could, before biting down; his hand cupped my breast, digging his fingers in, as his teeth dug into the other breast. When I made small, eager sounds, he did it harder. The feel of his teeth pressing hard and harder into the flesh of my breast bowed my back; his fingers bruising made me writhe into Micah's kisses, and then Micah's hand slid over my thigh and between my legs.
His fingers brushed me, and I spread my legs wider, so he could reach more of me. He played his fingers over and around me, not just going for that one sweet spot like it was a button, but exploring me with his fingers the way his lips explored my mouth.
Nathaniel set his teeth into my breast, his fingers almost crushing into the other breast. I was on the verge of having to safe-word on the breast play, but Micah's deep kisses kept me from saying anything, just as his fingers found that one sweetest of spots and began to play with it. The growing sensations between my legs kept the pain of the breast play on that thin line between amazing pleasure and actual pain. Every time I started to make too much noise, or sound as if I were going to say a word, Micah plunged his tongue into my mouth, caressing deeper, biting at my lips, and then turning it back into a gentler kiss, so that I knew he wouldn't let me safe-word. His kisses were my gag, and the thought that I couldn't tap out, couldn't say no to what Nathaniel was doing at my breasts, upped the sensation of it, helped me begin to slide into that place where what would hurt like hell becomes thrill and pleasure, and an intensity that nothing else seemed to touch, and all the time Micah played between my legs, never losing his rhythm now that he'd found it, even as he kept me muffled, helpless to say Stop. If we'd never done this before, it might have been too much; he and Nathaniel wouldn't have known my body, known my reactions even without words, so they could play right on the edge of what I could take, what I would enjoy.
Nathaniel worried at my breast with his teeth like a terrier with a bone, his fingers almost meeting in the flesh of the other breast. I might have forced a stop then, but Micah's hand pushed me over the edge, to a sudden orgasm that the breast play had hidden in an edge of almost-pain. The orgasm flowed from between my legs, up and over my body in a warm, joyous rush. Nathaniel bit harder, fingers crushing, and the pain mixed with the orgasm so that it grew together, making it all so much more. I screamed into Micah's mouth, body writhing, bucking, held down by Nathaniel's body at my chest, and Micah's mouth and body against my side. When my eyes fluttered in my head, my body liquid and helpless with pleasure, Nathaniel stopped biting, stopped bruising. Micah stopped kissing me, and then moved his hand from between my legs. I felt the bed moving, but I couldn't focus my eyes, or even open them enough to see what they were doing.
I felt Nathaniel between my legs, but he wasn't using his fingers. I felt the head of him rubbing against the parts that Micah had just finished playing with, and he made me cry out again, my upper body coming up off the bed, like a puppet pulled abruptly to life, and then the strings were cut again, and I lay boneless, half-blind with the afterglow of the orgasm. Then Nathaniel began to push his way inside me, one exquisite inch at a time, until he was as deep inside me as he could go, his body pressed tight and solid.
I fought to focus on him as he rose above me, his hands bracing his upper body so that he arched over me. I gazed down the line of our bodies and he began to pull himself out of me, and then in, before he'd finished the first stroke.
I whispered, "Oh, God!"
He found his rhythm, in and out, slow, deep strokes, but not too deep, until I felt that warmth begin to grow again, and then he brought me again, and I writhed underneath him, my hands grabbing for his arms, ready to paint my pleasure in scratches, but Micah caught my hands and gave me