Page 47 of The Perfect Ingredient
I try to answer, but Jean swallows around me, and the words turn to broken moans.
Hessou moves to behind Jean, his hands landing on Jean’s waist.
I watch through half-lidded eyes as he leans in and kisses the space between Jean’s shoulder blades. His mouth follows the line of Jean’s spine, then climbs again, kissing the side of his neck, one arm wrapping around his torso, dragging his nails over his chest.
Jean groans, his mouth faltering around me for a moment, and the vibration punches a new moan out of my lungs.
“Fuck, just like that—” I gasp, pressing my head back into the pillow. “God, don’t stop—”
Hessou keeps kissing Jean, biting softly now and then, marking him with small red blooms. One of his hands slides down Jean’s belly, then between his legs, and Jean answers with a sound that’s half-lost around my cock. He bucks slightly into Hessou’s hand, which only makes his mouth tighten around me.
It’s obscene.
Jean glances up, eyes dark and blown. He holds my gaze while he sucks harder, needier, sliding his hands beneath my hips to lift me even closer to his mouth like he never intends to let go. He grunts, and I nearly split apart.
“Hessou,” I pant, clawing at the sheets. “Touch me.Kiss me. I need—”
“I’m here,” he says, and then he claims my mouth again
Jean finally lets me slip from his mouth, chest heaving, face flushed and wet. Hessou turns slightly, leaning down, and kisses him.
Their mouths crash together, Hessou’s hand sliding from my face to cradle Jean’s jaw, pulling him deeper. Their tongues meet just above my cock, their breath mixing. Jean groans and chases Hessou’s mouth like he can’t stand the loss of it when they part. I watch from below, still spread open, my chest rising too fast, my cock wet and aching against my belly.
When they finally break apart, Hessou’s mouth trails downward—sucking a bruise over my ribs, nipping at the jutting bone of my hip—before settling beside Jean. For one dizzying second, I don’t know what they’re planning until I feel the hot wetness oftwo mouths.
Jean suckles the head of my cock while Hessou licks a stripe along the underside of the shaft, his tongue sinfully confident. They work in tandem, passing me between them like I’m a candy they’re sharing.
“Fuck, please—I can’t—”
“You can,” Hessou says, looking up at me, his lips wet. “You’re doing so well.”
Jean hums his agreement, the vibration shooting straight through me. He pulls back, and then leans lower to mouth at my balls, while Hessou takes over the shaft, sliding his mouth down with ease.
I twist in the sheets, back arching.
“Please,” I choke out. “Don’t stop… don’t—oh fuck—”
My whole body tenses, the pleasure cresting fast. I try to warn them, but Hessou growls low and pushes down farther, and Jean sucks hard and cradles me in his big, calloused hands, and it’stoo late.
I come with a sob, full-body, violent, hips bucking, throat raw.
They don’t pull away.
They share what I gave them.
Jean swallows with a happy hum, while Hessou tends to me, kissing my belly, my thighs, my spent cock. His mouth moves, tasting, nosing through the sticky mess they’ve made of me. My skin is buzzing. My bones have turned to honey.
I collapse against the sheets, not sure if I’m breathing properly.
“You’re glowing,” Hessou whispers into my skin.
Jean’s weight drapes across my right side, face buried in my neck, arms curled tight around my ribs. On my left side, Hessou lies just as close, trailing his fingers lightly across my stomach, drawing aimless shapes that disappear just as quickly as they come.
He shifts up onto one elbow after a while of quiet.
I hear the drawer pull open, then the soft clink of glass. When he turns back, he’s holding the dark little bottle we always keep close. The one that smells like clove soaked in orange zest—his attempt to catch my scent in a bottle. He pushes the stopper free with his thumb, and the familiar scent rolls out immediately.
Jean lifts his head, his eyes following the bottle like a moth to flame. His mouth is still kiss-swollen, cheeks flushed and shiny.
