Patrick seemed unruffled by his friend’s dictatorial tone, and he took the tube of pearlescent gel in his hands, squeezing some into his palm, then applying it to Elyssa’s belly and breasts, smiling at the lather as it bubbled up and frothed her skin, slathering it over her curves. Elyssa pushed her head, which Jay was rinsing now, back like a cat demanding more stroking, thrusting out her ribcage and breasts for more of Patrick’s careful washing. Jay’s hands were on her hips, his fingers drumming on the top of her thigh, while Patrick leant into her, giving her the solid support of these two male bodies. Now that they were so close, she could feel Jay’s hard cock prodding her buttocks, while Patrick’s dinted her stomach. Four hands soaped her, sometimes vigorously, sometimes whisper-lightly, until she felt that every inch of her had been claimed. The sensory overload was intense, but addictive, and she angled her pelvis towards Patrick, looking for the one touch she had not yet been granted—that most intimate location.
Both men slid hands between her legs at the same time, and they managed not to struggle with each other, one finding her clit, the other circling her entrance with wet-tipped fingers. Patrick’s other hand caressed a breast, his tongue dipping low over her nipple, while Jay held his free arm braced across her stomach, preventing any thought of escape. His mouth attached to the base of her neck, nipping and sucking at the tender flesh, voracious with unsated lust.
Elyssa rocked and twisted between the walls of their chests, feeling herself double-ravished, twice-kissed, twice-fingered, twice-importuned by their impatient cocks, which threatened to bruise her pale skin with their unyielding stiffness. Jay’s fingers slipped up inside her, spreading and stretching her walls, while she ground her clit down against Patrick’s hand, wild for more, for all of it, her legs thrashing and sometimes kicking the air while the two men sustained their attentions to her crotch, urging her onward with all the assistant force of their teeth and tongues and mouths and rolling hips.
When she came, it was with utter abandonment, her senses taking her beyond the knowledge that she had two men watching and making her orgasm, into a place of pure animal need. She poured her cries into the tumbling water and swirling steam, into Patrick’s wet hair, into Jay’s iron-taut arm, anywhere that would take them, until her body was limp and she could see again.
“Nice, Elyssa, good girl,” crooned Jay into her ear. “See, it’s good, isn’t it? Lots more of that to come, sweetness.” The two men fell on her with their lips, kissing her face and hair and neck all over until she came down and the strength returned to her legs.
“Can I help you wash, Jay?” she offered, once her breath was back.
“Oh, yes, I think I’m going to need a hand. I’m filthy,” he said, handing her the shower gel. Elyssa got to work, rubbing the foaming cleanser into the
smooth skin, finding its secret hollows, its curves and bumps. His back arched perfectly beneath her touch and when her caressing hands slid lower, to his hips and belly, he seized them and pushed them down where his cock stood, proud and unsheltered from the insistent shower-rain. She ran her wet, lathered palms up and down, up and down, then she knelt, so that her face nestled against his thigh, and used her tongue to bathe his balls, licking an upward trail to the soapy-tasting cock.
In the end, it was just too soapy—she had gone a little overboard with the gel, she realised—so she stood back up, using her fingers to flutter to the tip of the shaft and back again while he held her against him. Behind her, between her bottom cheeks, she felt the sudden touch of Patrick’s cock, rubbing itself forward between her thighs, prodding her flesh so insistently she feared bruising. With her free arm she reached behind her and took its base in her hand, circling it tightly between finger and thumb, squeezing it while he slicked up and down inside her opening pussy lips.
They both seemed appreciative of her attentions, but Elyssa knew that much more of this would give her the most monumental crick in her neck.
“Back to bed?” she suggested.
Jay grinned, reached up and turned the spray off. “Best offer I’ve had all day,” he growled. “Towels! Now!”
Patrick was first to the pile of warmed, fluffy bath sheets, and he wrapped himself and Elyssa into a clean, dry embrace, leaving Jay to sort himself out. Only two bathrobes hung on pegs by the door, and somehow the two men managed to appropriate these, so that Elyssa was forced to re-enter the bedroom in an abbreviated towel-toga, with a towel-turban on her wet hair.
“You look good like that,” Patrick remarked, first to the bed, lying with legs sprawled, finishing off a piece of cold toast as if he’d been starved for a week. “You don’t show your legs off enough.”
“How the hell would you know?” retorted Elyssa. “It’s been fifteen years since you were qualified to comment on my dress sense.”
“Fair enough,” he shrugged. “So you don’t dress like you used to then? All long skirts and plaited belts and ethnic jewellery?”
“Hey, it was boho chic,” Jay reminded him, one eyebrow raised. “She was doing it long before Sienna Miller stole her style.”
“I bow to the fashion guru,” said Patrick sardonically, frowning a little as Jay put his slender hands on Elyssa’s shoulders, massaging them firmly as they stood by the mirror, gazing at themselves and the picture they made.
Elyssa caught a glimpse of his expression and realised that this was going to take some hard work to make sure Jay didn’t ride roughshod over Patrick and his hopes and desires, in that maddeningly charming and charismatic way Jay had.
“Come to bed,” he said, holding out a hand.
“I would, darling, but I need to do my hair,” said Jay.
“Not you. Elyssa.”
“Who gave you first dibs?”
“Sorry, didn’t realise we had to draw up a rota.”
“Look!” said Elyssa, holding up a hand. “Stop this. Stop locking antlers. There aren’t winners or losers in this relationship. We’re all getting what we want. And, quite honestly, I’m not a piece of meat that you get to divide up. All three of us are going to have to learn to listen and to understand what each other wants. I know that’s going to be hard for both of you—”
“Going to be hard?” said Patrick ruefully, staring his erect cock in the eye.
“We need to communicate. Be open and honest. No verbal sparring or jealousy or resentment or feeling left out, or it’s doomed. I don’t want to be a bone of contention.”
“I’ve got the boner of contention,” said Patrick.
“Jeez, Patrick, you really do have a one-track mind today!” Elyssa exclaimed.
“It’s not me! It’s my cock! It won’t leave me alone!”