Cam scoots his chair around.  When I step between his feet, I’m facing him and, across the table, Cord.  I lean forward, nuzzling Cam’s ear, watching his brother, remembering what it was like to have them both inside me.  The plus-size dildo they bought to use while Cam was gone was a poor substitute for the real thing.

I catch his earlobe with my lips, caging it with my teeth and gently tugging.  My mouth slides down, following the line of his jaw to the center of his chin.  He was clean-shaven this morning, but Cam’s beard grows so quickly, he usually shaves twice a day.  Right now, there’s sandpaper abrading my skin, making my lips ultrasensitive.

I glance at Cord, who’s watching us with the intensity of a hawk in a fresh-cut field, who knows that patience is a virtue well-rewarded.  I just don’t know how prison has affected his control.  Telling myself that I’d better not test it, I give my full attention to his older brother.

Cam smells like I remember him, ocean breeze and woodsy musk.  I suck on his lower lip, hear the telling intake of breath, and know his body’s response.  I’ve seen it too many times on screen and in person.  He can go from flaccid to fully hard in seconds flat and can maintain an erection pretty much all night.

The memory jolts me, and I realize there is a tiny, tiny chance that my daughter is his.  He usually took my mouth or my ass, but in a marathon session the night before the last time he left, he had all of me, every way that he could take me, with and without Cord, who was still there, watching, when he wasn’t joining in.

I wonder what he thought when I said that he couldn’t be Hannah’s father.  Was he hurt, thinking that I could so easily forget?  Or did he realize the horrors that followed mere days later messed with my mind?

“I remember,” I whisper against his mouth.  “This.  Us.  I remember….”  It’s why he needed tested, too.  Oh, God.

I kiss him.  Open mouth, tongue thrusting, hands fisting in his hair, bent on ruining his hundred dollar cut.  Forgive me.  Punish me.  Take me.  Don’t hurt me.  My mind is a maelstrom, but my body is on fire.

The bag of peas falls to the floor.  Rather than fisting my hair and pulling it like he used to during kink, Cam winnows his fingers in my pixie cut.  If he rubs my scalp, he’ll feel the scar from the surgery, done to relieve the pressure on my brain.

My pussy throbs, outer lips engorged, inner folds getting wetter by the second.  I feel a terrible emptiness in my womb.  My breasts ache, hurting almost as much as they did when my sick baby Hannah slept through her feeding time.  I long for what once was.  For the three of us together, sharing my childhood home.

I wonder what Cord did with it.  Except for the thousand dollars I left to my parent’s church, he inherited everything I had, everything my parents left me.  The checking and savings accounts.  Stocks and bonds.  Daddy’s 401K and the insurance money divided into multiple CDs.  The house I was forced to abandon, the day I officially died.

I pull back, breathing hard.  Focusing on Cam, I look into eyes filled with pain, and hunger, and questions that I can’t begin to answer.  “I’m sorry.”  I touch my forehead to his, hoping he won’t press me to expound or to explain.

“You okay?” Cam asks, his voice hoarse with longing.

“I think so.  And you?”

“I think so.”  He quirks his trademark grin.  “Give me two minutes in the bathroom and I’ll feel better.”

Another hot teaser

I shiver, remembering our first time together, the three of us.  Cruz had told me that his brother was coming to visit from California, where he worked in the film industry.  He said he had a DVD and asked me to watch it with him.  It was an adult film, XXX with a thin plot and subpar acting, but Cam… sweet baby Jesus, he was smoking hot and hung like a horse.

In a pivotal scene, a female hostage was riding another woman who wore a strap-on dildo when the rescuing hero—Cam—burst into the room.  Quickly assessing the situation, he lubed himself, fingered the hostage’s backdoor, then sank his length inside her.  All twelve inches of it.  It was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen.

Double penetration.

There was no hiding my arousal.  My pussy was sopping wet and my nipples were hard as diamonds.  We stretched out on the sofa and locked in a full-body kiss.  Cruz palmed my bottom, then slipped a finger down the seam of my ass and pushed against my pucker.  It was so taboo, so dirty, so tempting.  I found myself pressing against him, wanting more.

“Fuck, angel,” Cruz whispered, wetting his thumb then inserting it into my most private place.  “Cam is gonna love you.”

 What?

Cruz felt me tense and worked his magic with his hands, mouth, and fingers.  I was clay in a master potter’s hands, ready to let him mold and shape me and bend me to his will.  He didn’t stop, not even when his brother let himself in the house and found us in the living room.

Cam dropped his overnight bag on the floor by his feet, his gaze locked on us.  On me.  He was as gorgeous as he was on the screen, adjusting himself, stroking his growing erection.

“Wait until you feel us both inside you,” Cruz said, fucking me with his fingers, two in my vagina, one in my ass.  “You’ll never want to do it any other way.”

He made me come so hard, I passed out.  When I came to, the three of us were in bed together.  Cam was stroking my back, palming my bottom.  I moaned, and he licked my ear, catching the lobe between his teeth.

“You sure she’s up for this?” he asked Cruz.

“Fuck, yeah.  Angel, tell him.  Tell Cam you want him in your virgin ass.”

Cam bit down, his breath hissing in my ear.  “Nobody’s tapped this yet, sweetheart?” he asked.  “From what I saw in the living room, I think you’re going to love it, but I’m not going to touch you until you ask for it.  You might not be jailbait, but this needs to be consensual, and not just because it’s what Cord and I like.  This is what we both want, but you’ve got to want it, too.”

They made me want it.  I never stood a chance.

You want some more teasing?

Their kisses pull me back to awareness.  I’m lying on my back.  My hands are still cuffed, but the sock is gone.  Cord’s mouth is on mine; his fingers caress my face, my hair.  Cam’s head is between my thighs.  He rubs his lips over my tattoos and traces each name with his tongue.  Cordell trails down my left side; Cameron scrolls up my right.  The last letter of his name brings his face close to my crotch.  He blows out softly, teasing me with his breath.

“I remember how you taste,” Cam murmurs against my mismatched nether curls.  “As sweet as wine.  As creamy as the finest chardonnay.  Let’s see if you’ve gotten better with age.”

The man has a tongue that could benchpress weights.  Long, strong, determined, relentless.  He tastes as far as he can reach, as deep as he can go, taking as much as I can give him and then demanding more.  He fucks me with his tongue, hooking my knees over his shoulders to claim my pussy, then my ass.  After he’s given me the most thorough of rimjobs, he kisses my thighs, my vulva, my fleece.  Poised above my clit, he presses it with his tongue like he’s squeezing cider and drinks the juices that flow.

Cord’s mouth and hand are lavishing my breasts, kissing away the hurt, adoring me despite my scars.  He opens wide and inhales a nipple at the same time Cam puts his mouth over my clitoris and seals us together with sweet, searing suction.  The bolt from Cord’s mouth strikes my core; tension builds in my body, desperately clawing, begging for release.  Handcuffed to the headboard, I am helpless, at their mercy.  I mewl, twisting in their arms, needing the surcease that I know they can provide.

It comes without warning when Cord pinches my nipple, pulling hard enough, my body arches off the bed.  Cam slides his arm beneath me, anchoring me to him.  His mouth is fastened on me but now he sucks hard enough to swallow me whole.  My body convulses as I climax, one mouth laving my breast, the other lapping my juices as my orgasm goes on and on.

“Angel,” Cord whispers.  “Our beautiful angel.”

Cam kisses my pussy and strokes his name on my thigh.  “God, you are so perfect.”

I know I’m not, but they make me want to believe it anyway.