and powerful as I bucked into his mouth again, unable to help myself.
Only his palm on my belly held me in place. The other moved lower, and then I felt two fingers slide into my body. That earned him another moan, even as I tried to stop it. Ian didn't seem to care at all. No, he just pressed a little deeper before curling those fingers and making me want to come undone.
Between his mouth and his hand, I was panting for breath. I'd always thought of sex as something intimate and reassuring. This? It was wild, passionate, and euphoric. There was nothing boring about the sensations he was giving my body, or the way I couldn't keep still. I had to writhe, pumping my hips in time with his rhythm. Sparks shot up my nerves as the hardened tip of his tongue flicked across my clit. My breasts ached to be touched, the nipples so hard, and I could feel the pressure building.
So I let go of the covers and pinched one of my nipples. Between my legs, Ian moaned, the sound shooting straight to my core and convincing me to let go of him with the other hand. While he worked my pussy, I teased my breasts, clenching my jaw to keep from begging for more. I wanted to feel him inside me. I wanted more than just his hand and his tongue, but this was so good.
His hand thrust a little harder. His lips tormented me higher, and I stopped thinking just as the pressure became too much. My back arched and my body lost control. I felt my legs clamp around his neck as the rush of pleasure hit. Wave after wave, coursing through me, and the only thing I could do was clench my jaw and refuse to make a single sound.
Until it was over and my breath rushed out. Ian removed his hand and kissed the inside of my thigh before sliding off the bed. His eyes were still hungry, roaming across my naked body, yet he was dressed. Taking a step back, he finished releasing the buttons I'd never made it to. Then he opened his belt. Just as his back hit the wall, he opened his pants.
"You will stay right there," he said, his voice deep and rough.
Then he moved his hand - the same one he'd used on me - down to wrap around his dick. Letting the wall hold him up, with his shirt hanging open, and his pants sliding halfway down his ass, Ian stroked himself, letting me watch. He never wore underwear, he said, and I was starting to realize why. In all my life, I'd never seen anything as beautiful as a man half out of his suit, pleasing himself.
The shine of moisture made it clear his fingers had been plenty slick. The glide of his fist was hard, intense, and unforgiving. Right there, just out of reach, he leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and worked himself until his lips fell open. Another stroke, and he gasped. Then he grabbed the tip of his dick and groaned as I watched the cum leak between his fingers.
"Fuck me," he breathed. Then he took a heavy breath. "Yeah. I think I'm ok with level one." His eyes flicked up to me. "Get in bed, beautiful."
And then he walked right to the bathroom. I heard the sink running, and while it wasn't perfect, there was something so amazing about this. Somehow, he'd found a way to make not being able to fuck into one more way to prove these guys were the best I'd ever known. Last night with Lane had been the same.
I knew they wanted me. They made sure there was no doubt in my mind, but they'd found a way to walk that line between lust and commitment. They made me feel wanted, not just like a piece of ass or a passing fancy. They treated me like I was worth something, and after so many years of thinking I was good for nothing more than being my husband's maid, it hit me right in the heart.
These men actually cared about me. I wouldn't use the L-word yet. I wasn't quite there, but was that because I was scared? Listening to Ian clean up in the bathroom, I couldn't deny that there might be some truth to that. He was so amazing. Each of them were! Losing one of them would crush me, but this?
It