But Ash can see. And when he whispers, “Fuck her hard, Embry, fuck her like you wish you could all the time,” I know what he’s doing. Both feeding and riling the hungry jealousy between them. It inflames the Vice President, it inflames me, and like a barrel plunging over a waterfall, I abruptly go from anticipation to incoherent feeling, clenching wildly around Embry’s cock, gasping as the contractions drive all thought and knowledge out of my body. There’s nothing but deep, biological release, pure, hormonal pleasure.
Embry obeys Ash and pulls out, but I see from his clenched jaw and drawn-up balls that it’s a near thing. He comes to rest on his heels, his expression dazed. But it sharpens quite a bit when Ash says, “There should be lube in the end table. The usual place.”
The usual place? I wonder, but then remember those months between Jenny’s death and me. I shiver with unadulterated lust as I wonder how many times the men in front of me have fucked in this bed—it stirs me to think about at the same time it fills me with a familiar sense of fear and dread. They have so much history between them, so much love and sex and heartbreak, I feel like an interloper between them. Like I’ll always be on the other side of a curtain too thick for me to draw back on my own.
“Having you both in my bed is such a gift,” Ash says, as if sensing my thoughts. “I never could have imagined…” He trails off, shaking his head, and then extends his hand for the bottle Embry is handing him, all cold business once again. “On your stomach, Greer. Turn your head so Embry can use your mouth if he wants.”
Embry does want, and he kneels next to me and pushes past my lips the moment I’m ready. Ash puts a pillow under my hips, pinching my ass for wiggling it at him as he does.
“Don’t test me, Greer,” Ash warns. “You’ll want me patient for this.”
But his voice, his hands as they move rough and eager over my thighs and hips—his patience is already shredded, destroyed by the chance to fuck my ass. And he wastes no time once he has me ready, sliding a slick finger into the tight rosebud, probing and pressing around, readying me, as if anything can ready me for his huge erection. He adds a second finger and I moan around Embry’s cock, which sends Embry clutching at the headboard and my hair, muttering curses to himself.
“I can’t wait to fuck you here,” Ash says, those fingers beginning to thrust now in slow, twisting motions. “My little prince got to be the first inside you, but I’ll be the first man to come inside your ass, and I can’t tell you how much I’ve thought about it. How hot it will be. How tight. How shameful.”
I pull my mouth off Embry and give Ash a happy smile over my shoulder. “Yes, please.”
“Dirty girl,” he breathes, working his fingers harder, sending frissons of delight scurrying across my skin. “Fucking dirty girl.”
And then he positions himself between my legs, his fingers leaving me to ready his cock. I expect Embry to keep fucking my mouth, especially when I feel his hand curl around my jaw and turn my face back to him, but instead of his cock, my lips meet his lips and he gives me a long, lingering kiss. “I love you,” he whispers against my mouth. “I love you so much.”
When he pulls back, I search his face. I’ll never understand him, I think, not even if I have a million years to try. I’ll never understand how he moves from selfish to selfless in the space of seconds, his inconstancy, his enormous capacity for both love and jealousy. Because why say those words now, with Ash about to fuck me, why say them so Ash can’t hear?
Before I can glean any answers from that near-flawless, aristocratic face, he says a little louder, “Keep breathing while he presses into you, keep breathing and push against him. He’s prepared you well, but it will still be uncomfortable at first. Just breathe.”
I nod, and Ash’s fingers trail up my back. I know without looking that it’s not to soothe me or comfort me; he’s stroking my flanks and spine like a buyer stroking a prize horse, like a collector running his hand along the hood of his new sports car. The touch is owning, possessive, appreciative but selfish. His hand rests at the back of my neck for a moment and the message is clear. I am his plaything, his pet, his wife. He will do with me whatever he wants.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
He bends down over me, and I feel the first pass of his tip against my entrance, a grazing pass with almost no pressure. It passes again, pressing in this time against the prepared opening, then pulling back.
“Relax,” Embry says, rubbing his nose against mine. “You’re tensing up.”
I am, and I don’t even know why. I want this, I’ve wanted it for a long time, I’m so aroused that my cunt feels heavy and swollen, there’s even been plenty of lube and prep work…but it feels like such an invasion, deep and strange, almost wrong but not quite.
On my next inhale, Ash presses against my hole and keeps pressing, the slick lube doing its work and making everything wet and gliding but oh God, oh fuck—
“Christ,” Ash says through clenched teeth as his tip is squeezed relentlessly by my virgin hole. “Jesus, that’s so fucking good.” He pushes in deeper, past the initial resistance.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” I mutter, pressing my eyes closed. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
“Kiss her, Embry,” Ash says, stroking my thigh as if I’m a skittish horse, but his hand is shaking and I know he’s barely holding on to his self-control right now.