What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [97]
“Turn her around,” Brent instructed, and she felt her body being rotated, then Brent’s able grip at her waist as he hoisted her ass onto the sun-washed tree. It gave her a chance to see that the man so capably fucking her was Zack, who’d done so in the dungeon as well. He made a hot pirate, wearing a flowy white shirt, open across his chest, and through his long hair she spied a silver hoop in one ear. His erection remained upright, sprouting from undone pants, near the cutlass strapped to his side. Now Jenna knew what she’d felt pressing against her thigh—which told her the knives were fake, even if impressive visually.
The other pirate stood nearby, and she got a longer look at him now, too. He appeared to be of Latin descent, also sporting an earring. He wore only a black vest over tan breeches and black boots, and tattoos spanned his biceps. His dark eyes were as lust-filled as her own surely were, and a large bulge stretched upward at his crotch.
“Eat her pussy, Rico,” Brent demanded, and the Latin man came toward her. And then it hit her—Rico! Their waiter that first night in the gazebo. But he looked . . . well, different now, to say the least.
One of Brent’s arms was anchored around her waist, but he used his free hand to gather the skirt of her dress, pulling it briskly up. “Spread,” he whispered darkly in her ear, so she parted her legs.
Rico stooped down and leaned in, immediately devouring her—and she cried out, not expecting him to start out with such hungry eagerness. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d ever been eaten with such bold gusto before—she seemed to feel his tongue, teeth, and lips everywhere at once, stretching from the bottom of her cunt to the top.
Broken cries left her throat as her body responded involuntarily, her pelvis lifting, contracting in a jagged, unsteady rhythm she couldn’t control. Brent held her tight from behind and she clutched at his arm and relished the feel of his masculine body supporting her. Soon she lifted her feet onto the smooth log, allowing her to spread wider, feel it all more intensely. She bit her lip as she watched her new Latin lover go down on her.
She’d never even spoken to him, but that didn’t impede the hot pulsations echoing through her body, growing wilder each second. Wet sounds rose from where he worked and she met his tongue with her clit—again, again—moaning at each new burst of heat. Brent massaged one breast, then the other, kissing her neck, gently biting her shoulder.
She gasped when she knew orgasm was approaching. “Mmm, yes,” she murmured, nearly breathless, eyes falling shut, her head dropping back to Brent’s chest. And then—“Oh. God. Now,” she murmured just before the tumultuous climax hit, rocking her body, again taking all her control—but Brent still held her as she screamed her release.
When finally it passed and limp exhaustion came, the delicious pressure between her legs ceased and she loved recovering in Brent’s embrace. He let her rest that way for a long, tranquil moment—before saying, “Lie back on the tree, sunshine.”
She opened her eyes and peered over her shoulder at him, aware he’d broken out of character. But he didn’t seem to have noticed—he was easing away from her, yet still supporting her, helping her recline until her head rested against a large branch, broken off only inches above where it began, providing a good headrest. Her dress remained pulled to the top of her thighs and falling down over her breasts.
“Zack, let our pretty wench feel your cock on her tits.” She was just processing Brent’s words when he added, “And Rico, climb onto the tree and fuck her.” Jenna drew in her breath as a passing breeze set her skin tingling all over.
And yet . . . no Brent? Apparently not, right now.
But somehow he’d finally done it, filled her with enough brazen desire that it didn’t matter anymore.
Rico, the Latin now technically becoming her lover, boosted himself onto the log with the agility of a cat. This time, she didn’t even have to be told to spread her legs—she simply did it, letting them