Page 51 of The Perfect Ingredient
“You want both of us inside you?” he asks against my lips.
I nod, frantically, mind gone. “Yes—God, yes—please. I want it.”
Jean thrusts harder at that, groaning loud, his cock twitching where he’s still buried deep.
“You’re already ruined,” he mutters, voice raw. “The way you’re swallowing my cock…”
“Not enough,” I gasp, clutching at him, nails scraping. “I want more!”
“We’ll make room,” Hessou murmurs, kissing Jean’s shoulder, then reaching for the bottle of oil again.
Jean nods against my cheek, kissing me once before dragging himself out with a drawn-out moan. The sensation of him slipping free knocks a cry out of me, a needy, ruined little sob. My thighs spasm, and my hole clenches around nothing, wet with spit and oil and Jean’s pre-cum.
“Come here,” he says, laying down on his back and pulling me up and into his lap. I straddle him, knees sinking deep into the mattress, and lean forward to brace on his chest. My cock leaves wet streaks across his belly as I grind down, desperate tofeelanything again.
Hessou moves behind me, the mattress dipping as he kneels close, pressing kisses to my back.
“Take him again. Let me see how open you are for us.”
I reach back to guide him in, his cock wet and hot and twitching against my hand. I sink down, moaning loud as I sit fully in his lap, hole stretched wide. Jean’s breath catches, head thrown back, his hands clamping around my waist like he might fall apart.
“Dieu,Louis,” he breathes, “You feel—God!”
“Hold him steady,” Hessou says, a hand firm on my hip, the other pressing between my shoulders to bend me forward. “Let me see how much he can take.”
He slicks his fingers again, more oil, more heat. He spreads me with both hands, thumbs dragging me open, and I sob into Jean’s neck.
“So open,” Hessou says, filthy and delighted. “Like a mouth waiting for the Eucharist. Begging for it.”
I moan, arching back against his touch.
His fingers push in beside Jean’s cock, and the pressure knocks the breath out of me. I jerk forward but Jean holds me, his voice strained and broken.
“Christ—fuck, he’s squeezing me… Your fingers—”
I drool against Jean’s skin, mouth open, whimpering as Hessou works his fingers in deeper. Jean’s cock twitches inside me, surrounded by the flex and pressure, and I clench again, trembling, every inch of me shuddering around them.
“Breathe. Let me in.”
He works slowly, so slowly, pushing against the tight resistance. His fingers are patient, coaxing, never too fast.
My whole body trembles.
“Please,” I gasp. “Please give it to me. I can take it. I want to befull, I want—fuck me, Hessou—now.”
“You are always so greedy,mon amour,” he murmurs, his voice slick with amusement and heat. “So eager to be used.”
“I want both of you. I want you to come inside me. I want to bedrippingwith you.”
Jean swears under his breath. Hessou kisses my shoulder, then bites it. I don’t know who groans louder, me or them.
I clutch Jean’s chest with both hands, breath catching in my throat, hips rolling involuntarily as the pressure builds.
“That’s it,” Hessou whispers. “Take me.”
Hessou presses forward behind me, steadying my hips in his hands. I feel the wet head of his cock against my hole, that’s already stretched wide by Jean. His fingers grip my sides, steadying me as he lines himself up. My whole body pulls tight, every nerve drawn to that one point where I’m already full—and about to bemore.
Jean clutches my waist, panting into my throat.
