Free The Mammoth Book of Threesomes and Moresomes by Linda Alvarez

squeezed her to him more tightly. She wondered why he hadn’t wanted to go first himself. So long as she had him eventually, she supposed it didn’t matter.
    Austin tugged DeVille forwards by the arm. “Kiss me,” she said, just before his mouth closed over hers. His clever fingers delved beneath the bandages she used to bind her bosom, and a moment later she felt another set of hands join in. Cotton fluttered down her sides and to the floor, and for the first time in six years, hands other than her own touched bare skin. She whimpered and sagged back against Harcourt, who cupped and held her breasts for DeVille’s hot, delicate mouth.
    She twisted in their grip for an eternity, until DeVille muttered something and Harcourt lifted her off her feet, with no more effort than she would have used in picking up a kitten. DeVille, she realized, was yanking off her boots, then her pants. She had just enough presence of mind to grab, but she wasn’t quick enough to prevent him from seeing the rolled bandage that provided the other element of her male disguise. He grinned up at her and kissed her right on the quim. “Maybe it’s time for those bedrolls,” he said. “Harcourt, do take off that blamed knife. And the rest of it, while you’re at it.”
    Austin lost some details after that. Both men seemed intent on making her lose her mind. She had never felt anything so good in her life as strong male bodies pressed both to her front and her back, their hands seeking out every sensitive spot she had. For a long time she did nothing but hold on and respond to whomever happened to be kissing her at the time. She could tell them apart even with her eyes closed: DeVille’s artistry and the scrape of his moustache, Harcourt’s smoother skin and more aggressive tongue and teeth. Harcourt’s hands were more direct, too, which she appreciated as she began to feel more and more wild for release.
    His blunt, calloused finger delicately traced down the line between her buttocks, then stroked the folds of her quim. She cried out. The finger pressed upwards, opening her with impossible gentleness. The tip of the finger curled inside, and she cried out again. Harcourt said, sounding out of breath, “I think she might be ready for you, Virgil.”
    “God damn … hold her for me …”
    She didn’t want to wait for anything. Austin grabbed DeVille’s cock. “Hurry up , you son of a—” She lost her breath as he nudged himself inside, stretching her deliciously; then Harcourt’s hands shifted her hips in some small way, and DeVille slid in even more deeply, until there was no more space between them at all. He rolled his hips, rubbing deeply into the centre of her pleasure, and she gasped, “Again!”
    “Anything for a lady,” he said, and after a little more of this she crested with a sharp cry, clinging to him until the waves of pleasure ebbed. She felt wonderful, but still wanted more. She squirmed between them both, sliding her hands from DeVille’s shoulders to his hips and back again. She could still feel him inside her, harder than before, and Harcourt’s cock like an iron bar digging into her waist.
    DeVille said, tightly, “I need her on her back right now.”
    Harcourt took her head in his lap. She hadn’t had a good look at his cock before now. She rubbed her cheek against it and kissed his velvety skin; after a muttered curse from him and a strained chuckle from DeVille, Harcourt took her shoulders firmly in his big hands and shifted her down, so she could no longer reach. She braced her feet on the blanket for what she expected would be a wild ride. Tense as he’d sounded, though, DeVille took his time, each stroke long and slow and sweet, punctuated now and then by his mouth on her breasts. Austin eased into a trance of pleasure, spiralling around DeVille’s cock and Harcourt’s gentle fingers playing in her hair and stroking her forehead and lips.
    She didn’t think she could come this time, but she