Page 56 of Double Shot
“God save the queen,yes,” he said and I smiled, he moved his hips in counterpoint to mine and slipped inside me. I was wet, primed, and ready to take him. No waiting. No need to ease into things, and Godyes,he filled me up and filled me out so perfectly.
I sighed in contentment and rolled my hips low and slow, grinding against him, my clit throbbing and a fresh orgasm already building as I heard the cap to a bottle of lube click off to one side and Kyle said, “So fucking perfect watching you two together. Ride him, baby.”
I put a little more roll into my hips and kept my eyes on Conan, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as I listened to Kyle make himself ready, the sticky sounds of him spreading lube on his cock. I stole a glance in his direction, standing off to the side, nude and perfect, running his cock through his fist, wanting to join in so bad he was crimson and throbbing in his hand. His dark, gleaming eyes roving over the pair of us in front of him as we made love for his eyes and edification.
He got up onto the bed behind me, and ordered us to keep going, spreading my ass cheeks. I expected him to tease my asshole with fingers or thumb but he went down on me back there. Teasing me with his tongue eliciting a gasp from me and a grunt from Conan when my pussy throbbed around him in sheer pleasure.
“Easy, mate. Don’t want to go too quick,” Conan warned and I felt Kyle kneel up behind me.
“Sorry not sorry,” he said and I could hear the smile in his voice.
He used some lube on the pad of his thumb and gently rubbed it against me, slick and cool, the pressure light and pleasing, and I gasped again, panting, bowing over Conan’s body. Conan’s arms went around me, and he claimed my mouth in a kiss, holding me to him, giving Kyle access as he eased a thumb against my asshole and pressed gently, the first joint slipping into me. I jumped slightly at the sensation and he made a soothing noise and asked, “Too much?”
“Not enough,” I murmured and fought not to writhe. He eased the digit in further and finding no resistance and no complaint from me, quickly added a finger, withdrawing his thumb, adding a second finger, and massaging them in and out of me in counterpoint to Conan’s slow and careful thrusting.
Conan hissed, and it sounded like it felt so good.
“You good?” Kyle asked and I knew he wasn’t asking me.
“Not going to be able to last long. She’s so wet, feels so good,” my lover beneath me said.
“I’m here,” Kyle said and his fingers left to be replaced with his cock. He pushed in so fuckingeasy, sliding into my ass where it felt like he honestly belonged and I shuddered against Conan’s chest. The pleasure coursing through me, my pussy lightly grabbing at his cock as he glided through my wetness which felt like it spontaneously doubled.
I screamed, sucking in air as the sound tried to escape, and it ended up being such a sound of pure, breathy delight.
I felt so full, socompleteand I never wanted this sensation to end as it felt as though my brain clicked off and went into some sort of standby where coherent thought was unnecessary, there were no bad feelings or emotions, and I could just float elegantly between my two men who spoke around and over me though I didn’t have a thought or a care as to what they said. Not when they made me feel like this.
* * *
We didn’t leaveOberhausen right away. By morning, Roan blasted the contents of Malmaison’s collection to multiple authorities, including German, Jewish, local news, holocaust groups, military museums, and the rest. It was, by all accounts, an absolutefirestormof news coverage, none of which I could understand because it was in German. Still the pictures were universal. Police images inside the museum uncovered the treasure-trove of artifacts and blasted them worldwide. In every shot, there were police everywhere along with censored pictures of the body, roving reporters fighting police for access to the gallery, and at least one thing stood out from the harsh clipped words falling from the reporter’s lips. A couple of names: Gustaf Malmaison and Escadrille.
Lach and Roan both seemed well pleased, I just wanted to leave; but when I asked, Roan had kindly explained to me it would look suspicious as hell if we picked up and took off right after a murder as gruesome as that Nazi fuck’s. It made sense, but I was restless. Eager to be back on American soil and for sure, back into a better bed than the one the German B&B was able to provide.
I was sleeping poorly, and that was compounded by the anxiety of air travel in general. We had an almost four-hour drive to Paris where we had only two hours before boarding a just over fourteen-hour flight to New York. Why so long? Well, we had yet another two-hour stop in the middle of that before the final leg of our journey back to the States.
Roan insisted on the drive, the whole time he chattered like an excited scholar about how this was a part of Germany packed full of WWII history, I listened, curled into his side in the back seat of the Bentley Continental as he told me and Kyle all about how this area was where the allies penetrated the Rhineland, we stopped for a few minutes near one particular bridge that the Nazis and Allies fought over with epic and heroic resolve; the Bridge at Remegen, and I smiled thinking about the movie we shared before our first time together about another bridge.The Bridge on the River Kwai.
I couldn’t sleep in the car. I could never sleep in a moving car again after my parent’s accident, and I definitely couldn’t handle sitting in the back seat by myself while both front seats were occupied. Long car rides werenotmy favorite thing, but Roan’s crisply accented voice with its rich, honeyed tone soothed the anxiety of the trip to Paris remarkably well.
When we arrived at the airport, I was surprised twice over. Once that there was a Burger World in the Paris airport, and again when Conan was the one to suggest we eat there. We shared a meal of burger and fries, surprisingly not as greasy as what we got in America, as if France even had the power to refine the worst food on offer from our home country.
Still, thankfully, it wasn’t long after that when we boarded our flight.
I couldn’t sleep on the plane. Every time I tried; I would wake shortly from a nightmare. Usually the old standby of the car crash that killed my parents. Sometimes, it wasn’t my parents, but Lach and Roan in their place. I would wake with a start, whoever was sitting beside me in our first-class seats holding my hand over the low wall between them on the Airbus A340.
I couldn’t even imagine what making the trip in the cramped conditions of coach would be like, but I almost longed for it when I saw the seats and how they were set up in first class.
There were four across the plane, window seat, then a fairly wide aisle, then two center lane seats separated by a low wall but at leastnext to each other, then another wide swath of aisle equal to the first and a window seat.
I couldn’t really effectively be close to either one of my men, and one would always be entirely too far from me in the window seat on the other side of that damn low wall.
I loathed that low wall between myself and whichever man was sitting next to me, they traded off sitting beside me every two hours or so to try and make things easier, but I hated it just the same. I could never be close enough.
I didn’t try to sleep anymore after the first nightmare. I was too restless, my thoughts spinning and whirling, my emotions vacillating wildly between righteous anger and soul crushing guilt over actuallyhelpingto kill another human being, the pictures – though censored – via the news outlets haunted me. Made it real. There was no out of sight, out of mind for this one and that bothered me, a lot more than I thought it would.
“What’s wrong, Poppet?” Conan asked me part way into the first leg of the flight from Paris back to New York. I sighed and shook my head, uncertain how to put any of it into words.
“Feeling guilty, yeah?” he asked and I smiled. I was getting better at keeping things off my face, I mean I had successfully fooled Malmaison, but my men? I could never fool either of them. Especially not Kyle who had known me the longest – even with the gap in our intertwined history.
