Page 53 of The Perfect Ingredient
Jean arches up suddenly, kissing my chest, my throat, sucking wet bruises into my skin. The movement shifts us, pulls me back against Hessou’s chest until I’m sitting up, my head lolling on his shoulder. I feel like a prized doll, perfectly positioned between them, cherished and used for their pleasure.
Feels amazing.
“I’m not going to last,” Jean chokes.
Hessou bites at my shoulder, still thrusting. “Not yet.Hold it.I want to feel him come first.”
Jean moans a wrecked sound, and grips my thighs harder, sweat dripping down his temples.
And then Hessou’s hand slides down my front, his fingers wrapping around my cock, stroking hard and fast.
That’s all it takes.
My body snaps.
I scream as I come, my cock jerking in Hessou’s fist, painting Jean’s stomach and my own chest in hot, white streaks. Myass clenches hard around them, and both men groan in unison, cursing, gasping.
“Fuck, I can’t—!” Jean’s voice cracks as his cock throbs deep inside me. He grips my hips like a lifeline as he falls apart andcomes.His whole body seizes, a deep moan ripping from his throat as he pulses again and again inside me, so hot andso muchit makes me sob.
Hessou holds tight to me, thrusting faster now, deeper, wet and messy and desperate, the slick friction of Jean still softening inside me making every movement more obscene.
And then he stiffens, fingers digging into my hips, his mouth pressed to my ear as he groans.
Heslamsin once, twice, and then he spills inside, his cock jerking deep, filling me with hot, endless pulses. I cry out again at the sensation—so full now.
Jean collapses and drags me down against him, with Hessou pressed to my back, chest heaving.
We lie there in a heap of heat and breath, our bodies too heavy to move, too slack for words. My thighs are trembling, hips loose, chest streaked and shining. Jean is still inside me, thick and softening, his hands slowly roaming as if in disbelief that I’m real. Hessou is draped against my back, still sheathed deep, his lips pressed to my shoulder, breath cooling the sweat there.
Then, he stirs.
“Louis, I’m going to pull out now. Don’t let a drop go to waste.”
He kisses my neck. “Clench for me,mon amour. Hold it.”
I try.
But my muscles are shaking, wrecked, still quivering with aftershocks. My legs won’t obey. My insides flutter uselessly, too used, too softened to hold a thing.
“I can’t,” I breathe.
Hessou hums. He kisses the nape of my neck again.
“That’s all right,” he says.
And then he pulls out.
I feel the loss at once, feel the slick spill start to ease out, thick and hot between my thighs. But before it can trail far, Hessou’s already sliding down behind me, mouth open.
I tense with surprise as I feel him press in again, not with cock, but lips. His tongue traces a slow path through the mess, circling where I’m stretched and soft, drinking down every trace of what they gave me. I can feel his lips parting, sucking, tongue lapping with obscene tenderness, and all I can do is pant, my whole body shivering from overstimulation and the unbearable intimacy of it.
Jean pulls out next, slow, with a drawn-out moan, and I sob at the emptiness, at the way I’m still soopenand wrecked. But Hessou doesn’t stop. His mouth stays relentless, his fingers gripping my hips, his tongue thorough. He sucks until there’s nothing left to spill, until I’m gasping and raw.
And then, just as suddenly, he sits back on his knees. His mouth is full, jaw tight. With one hand, he strokes my lower back; with the other, he signals Jeansit up.
Jean nods, understanding without a word. He shifts from his elbows to upright, gripping under my thighs. He lifts me carefully, and sits up with me still in his lap, my arms wrapped around his neck, my cheek against his shoulder.
Hessou leans forward, cups Jean’s jaw and tips it up. He kisses him, then part his lips just enough tospitall the mix ofcum and saliva into his mouth. Jean takes it with a moan, hands squeezing my waist, his whole body tensing beneath me.
