American Queen

Embry is right. Ash presses his cock against Embry's cock and my entrance, and I have this sudden moment of cold fear when I realize this won't be the gentle pushing and sliding of normal sex; Ash is going to have to wedge himself in, Ash is going to have to shove and thrust and punish.

I don't breathe.

And then he stabs inside of me with a merciless grunt.

I think I scream. I know I buck and thrash against them, my body trying to drag itself away from the brutal invasion, but their huge arms are clamped tight around me and my body is held still for their cocks to fuck.

"Greer, Greer," Embry soothes, and Ash does the same, his handsome face in front of mine crooning meaningless words to me, like I'm a skittish horse—stay and good girl, there's a good girl and it will be over in just a minute, just another minute, baby.

It's impossible. It's unlivable. I'm being split apart like an atom and my pain will burn down the world.

"You're forgetting to breathe," Ash says gently.

I'm still trying to move away from the pain, still straining against their iron arms, and all of us are sweaty with the effort of it.

"Hurts," I manage to get out. "It hurts."

"I know, baby," Embry says lovingly from behind me. "I know. But it won't in a minute, I promise."

"Breathe," Ash repeats sternly, and his President voice reaches me where his gentle voice can't. I suck in a sudden deep breath, and the rush of oxygen clears my head.

I burst into tears.

The men kiss me and murmur to me, their teeth and lips and words making up for all the pain their bodies are causing, and I don't know how long the minutes pass like this, with me sobbing and sweaty between them, and them hard and brutal inside of me, repeating over and over again how much they love me, how beautiful I am, how good they'll make me feel.

I surrender. Completely. I lose myself to the pain, sobbing against Ash's throat. I stop struggling against it, stop fighting it, and let it become me. Not for them, not even for my Sir, my President—not this time.

This time, the surrender is mine and my own. My choice, my need. My destiny.

"Breathe," Ash reminds me over and over again, and over and over again I do, each breath a gift, a chemical, astonishing gift. Each breath anchors me to myself, to this moment, to the two men I love, to the matching metal on Ash's and my fingers, to the rain outside. Each breath anchors me to the pain, and the moment I allow that fusion to happen, the pain disappears. Bit by bit, as if dissolved by my surrender, the pain is swallowed up by the swell of building pleasure, mere raindrops swallowed by a vast and endless sea.

"There she is," Embry says wonderingly. "There she is."

At some point their grip on me has loosened, freeing their hands to rub soothing paths along my thighs and my waist, and I realize that I'm staying there completely on my own, opening myself to their bodies not because they are forcing me but because I want it. Because it's starting to feel like more than pain, more than the sharp pressure of being so viciously stretched. It's starting to feel good, good like earlier.

Good like a different way to be cherished.

"Oh, angel," Ash says roughly, pulling back enough to see my tear-lined face. "You are too fucking beautiful like this." He kisses my hair, my cheeks, my lips. "You are amazing," he murmurs in an awed voice. "My amazing princess."

I can't speak. I can only nod.

"I want to fuck you now," my husband says with a yearning look down at my body. "But I need to know you're ready."

I nod again and he smiles. "Words, princess. I need to hear you say you're ready."

It's so hard to find the right words, like catching fireflies in the velvet dark that's become my mind. "Yes," I finally manage. "I'm ready."

They begin.

Ash goes first, pumping his hips experimentally, sliding the length of his cock against the length of Embry's, and I feel Embry shudder behind me and mumble something unintelligible.

"Fuck, that feels good," Ash grunts, thrusting in again. "It's like I'm fucking you and her at the same time."

I feel Embry nod against my neck, as if he's as lost in the sensation as I am.

Because I am.

Lost.

And then both men begin moving, going slow to find the rhythm that suits us all best, because of course it's not about finding the best way for two people, but for three, and then they find it, that perfect tempo, their two cocks rubbing together inside my pussy the same way they rubbed together inside Ash's fist earlier tonight. Underneath me, I feel the way their sacks press and rub against each other's, the tangle of my legs with theirs, the slippery wet way our skin moves against each other's—so wet I know we might have to call housekeeping for new sheets after this is all done.

I'm shaking now, shaking from fullness, shaking from endorphins and adrenaline, and I feel feverish—hot and cold and sweaty and covered in goose bumps, and the men are the same way, just long, lean expanses of sweaty, shivering muscles, and when Ash finds my hand and drags it to his mouth to kiss my wedding ring, I know it's almost all over for me. I know that the feverish pleasure is about to surge past every lingering ache and doubt and drown me as I lie.

"Ash," Embry groans. "God, Ash, your cock. And she's so tight, Jesus fuck, so fucking tight…"

"I know," Ash grunts, shoving into me, sweat dripping from his face. "Believe me, I know."