American Prince

“Big,” I say, squirming. That earns me a slap on the ass from Ash, and then he nudges my ankles together again, making it tighter for him.

“Yeah,” Embry breathes, still rubbing himself. “He is.”

I get another smack on the ass. “Up on the bed,” Ash says, the ragged edge to his voice sending a prideful thrill through me. I did that to him, to the leader of the free world. By doing nothing other than being me, nothing other than giving him what he needed and letting him give me what I needed in return. I expect him to keep fucking me on the bed, but instead he sits against the headboard next to me, his cock glistening in the warm light. “On your back,” he tells me. “Legs spread. Embry needs your cunt right now.”

My breathing comes faster as I obey, my already tight nipples furling into painfully tight peaks as I settle onto my back, as Embry watches me with liquid blue eyes.

“Can I?” Embry asks Ash in a shaking voice.

“I’m not asking either of you,” my husband answers sharply. “I expect you to mount her. I expect you to fuck her. I expect you to make her come. And I expect her to let you.”

The rough words make me shiver hard. Almost as hard as the hot emerald gaze that settles on my face. “Look at me while he’s inside of you,” he commands. “I want to see your face.”

“Oh, Ash,” I murmur. I’m nothing but hormones and electricity right now, nothing but what he makes me with his words. He knows it too, a pleased tilt to his mouth as he watches Embry crawl between my legs and penetrate me.

My husband’s own cock is massive and dark, pointing straight up to the ceiling, but he ignores it, crossing his arms against his wide chest as he watches his best friend pump in and out of my pussy, slowly at first, then faster and faster as his eyes hood and he begins to lose control. Embry lowers himself completely over me, our bellies pressing together and his forearms under my shoulders, and with his face in my neck, he jabs into me with fast, selfish thrusts.

Well, not entirely selfish. His base grazes my clit on every stroke, the tilt of his pelvis ensures that he hits that perfect spot every single time. And as my orgasm builds, I know what I want more than anything. I know what I need. And if Ash did this to remind himself how it felt to claim me, if I did this because I wanted to feel the full weight of my own agency again…not to mention it’s something I’ve wanted for years…

Our eyes are still locked, and I reach out to him, sliding my hand under his crossed arms to rest against his chest. “I want to ask you for something.”

Embry doesn’t slow his pace or lift his head from my neck, but I know he’s listening, waiting to hear what happens next.

Ash captures my hand and moves it down the hard ridges of his stomach to pull on his waiting cock. He uses my hand the way he likes, with his larger one wrapped around my smaller one, guiding the pressure and pace. “How do you know I haven’t already planned on doing it?”

“You don’t know what I was going to ask,” I say. I mean it to come out teasing and coy, but Embry’s body is a machine that drives out any feeling other than my growing climax, and so it comes out breathless. Panting.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ash says, in that casual way that’s beyond arrogance. It’s fact. “I’m going to do anything that I want to you, and you’re going to let me.”

He’s still using my hand to stroke his cock, but he doesn’t even glance at it, his eyes still burning into mine. I think of the moment we first met in London all those years ago. “Anything,” I say, repeating the words I spoke to a young soldier in an unfamiliar library. “I’ll let you do anything to me.”

I mean it even more than I did at sixteen—anything is such a large word now, as a woman. I’ve seen the horrors of anything, I’ve felt them, and yet in the deep green depths of my husband’s eyes, I rediscover what I always instinctively knew with him. That with him, anything is the delicious crevasse I longed to visit as a young woman, anything is a realm of things both pleasurable and frightening, anything is any depraved, bruising act transformed into something loving by consent and mutual pleasure.

Ash’s lips twitch at my words—he remembers that moment in the library just as I do—and his Sir-face flickers for a moment, revealing the tired yet playful man behind. “And that’s what makes you so dangerous,” he murmurs, using his other hand to brush hair away from my sweaty face.

“I’m going to come,” I whisper to him and Embry both.

“Good,” Ash says at the same moment Embry bites my neck in acknowledgement. “Who do you come for, Greer?”

“You, Sir,” I say, squirming underneath his friend.

“Good girl. Let Embry feel you. He deserves that, don’t you think? After all he’s done to make you safe?”

I’m beyond speech now, and I think Embry might be too, because he lets out a groan when Ash says, “Pull out after she comes, Embry, keep that cock hard for me,” but doesn’t protest beyond that one agonized noise.

“Good boy. You’ve earned yourself some warm pussy after serving me so well, haven’t you? Some time between my wife’s legs. It’s good, isn’t it? It feels so good to take what you deserve.”

Ash’s words are cruel and demeaning in the tastiest way, but even tastier is feeling the change they wreak on Embry. His strokes change—long and needy to rough and hard—and his fingers dig into my back and his teeth into my neck, all pure male animal. And as I watch Ash’s face, I know this is deliberate—he knew those words would do this to Embry, that those ideas are ideas that burn behind Embry’s thoughts when he thinks no one can see.