American Queen

Embry nods, his mouth opening to make words, but they don’t come out. And I’ve gone from lying on the bed to kneeling, fighting the urge to run my fingers over my clit as I watch. I want to spend all my orgasms all on their bodies, not waste one on my own. But fuck it’s hard to hold back, especially with the rough way Ash rubs Embry, rougher than I would ever dare to be with a man.

And Ash is different with Embry than he is with me, not just rougher but faster and more demanding, like he’s less afraid of hurting Embry than he is of hurting me. He fists a hand in his best friend’s hair and yanks him down to his knees, while his other hand undoes his fly in a few jerky, savage motions. Embry and I exhale in unison as he draws out his erection, which so hard that the skin on his shaft looks shiny. There’s already pre-cum beaded at the top of the swollen, fat tip. His cock is so obscene like this, framed by his tuxedo pants, dark and hungry as it bobs in front of another man’s mouth.

And that other man opens his mouth obediently, training his eyes on Ash’s. Ash waits a moment, one hand in Embry’s hair, the other on his own cock, looking like some sort of vengeful king meting out the most humiliating justice possible. And then he shoves his penis down Embry’s throat without warning, without mercy, drawing out only when he feels like it and pushing in as hard and as fast as he likes.

“Pull yours out,” Ash tells Embry. “Pull it out and rub it while you suck me.”

Embry does as he’s told, unfastening his pants and tugging them down far enough past his hips that he can expose himself. His dick is hard and shiny like Ash’s, slightly more slender with a slightly less flared helmet, but just as long and veined and hungry.

My mouth waters, and I slide one leg off the bed to move closer, to see how Embry would taste, but Ash’s voice stops me in my tracks. “Stay there, little princess.”

“But—”

“This little show is for you, remember?” He turns his gaze away from Embry’s handsome lips wrapped around his dick and looks at me. “I will tie you to that bed if you can’t follow directions. Understood?”

I pout. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girls get rewarded, Greer. And bad girls get what’s coming to them. Just remember that.”

“And what exactly do the bad girls have coming to them?” I ask a little coyly, fluttering my eyelashes.

Embry laughs around Ash’s cock, and it must feel good because Ash swears violently and then narrows his eyes at both of us. “Behave.”

Reluctantly, I obey, sitting back on my heels in a pile of lace and silk and watching Embry stroke himself as Ash mercilessly fucks his mouth. And as abruptly as he pulled Embry to his knees, he forces him back to his feet and pulls him into a wet, searching kiss.

And then he wraps both of their cocks in his huge hand and squeezes them together.

“Holy shit,” Embry mumbles, breaking away from the kiss and dropping his head onto Ash’s shoulder. “Fuck.”

Ash says nothing, but his jaw is clenched tight as he begins to work his hand up and down their dicks, the undersides and heads slippery and rubbing against each other with each punishing pull of Ash’s hand.

Embry is mumbling feverishly into Ash’s neck and Ash is nodding at his words, but his hand doesn’t let up, doesn’t slow or slacken its grip. He jacks off those two cocks as easily as if it were just his own, and more and more pre-cum comes out as he works, making things slippy. Messy.

Neither of them mind the messy, the slippy, the bare biology of stimulation and compression and release. Instead, Embry is rocking into Ash’s grip, moaning into his shoulder, and Ash is staring down at the two cocks in his hand like he’s never seen anything like it, like he’s awed and humbled at the same time.

And me? I’m as tight as a snare drum, my cunt so hot and aching that it feels like a wound between my legs. It’s beyond sexy or sexual, those words are for a different woman in a different place. This is pure physiological need, this is body instead of mind, this is feeling without thinking.

“I’m gonna come,” Embry says, his voice muffled by Ash’s neck. “I’m gonna come.”

“Me too, little prince,” Ash says, almost soothingly. “It’s okay. Just let it happen. Just give it to me.”

God. Does it get any fucking better than this?

Also, it’s the first time I’ve ever heard him call Embry that, little prince, and it makes me wonder about all the times he calls me little princess. Which of us got our name first, I wonder, and where did the nicknames even come from? And then I decide I don’t care. I like that Embry and I are the little prince and little princess, the king’s matched set of consorts. I like that we belong to Ash, that our names belong to Ash, that he considers us special and royal and apart from everyone else, but still miles below him, at least in the bedroom.

And Embry must like it too, because Ash murmurs, it’s okay, little prince, you don’t have to be strong anymore, and Embry erupts with a pained cry, shooting thick, pulsing spurts over Ash’s fist. Ash strokes up once, strokes down once, goes up one more time, and then he gives a soft grunt and ejaculates onto his semen-covered fist, his other hand reaching for Embry’s hair and pinning Embry’s face against his neck as he shudders his release all over his hand and Embry’s flesh. And then he pulls Embry’s face to his, rewarding his little prince with soft, sweet kisses even as their cocks still twitch in his hand.