Wanted by the Bikers – Screaming Eagles MC Read Online Stephanie Brother

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Mafia, MC Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
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“Ooooooh,” I gasp. My pulse races, thundering when I'm finally settled in his lap, all that dick inside me. God, it feels good.

I brace my palms against his muscular chest, then move my hips, just a little bit up and a little bit down. Big hands grip my ass, and then the next time I rise, he helps me right up, and when I come back down, he groans too as I find just a little more of him to take.

A hand presses between my shoulder blades, directing me forwards. Now what? I lean forwards, resting my head into the hollow between Tank's neck and shoulder. More slick liquid is poured over my ass before the finger returns, reminding me what it's like to be filled both front and back, but this time, there's a real cock in my pussy. A shiver raises goosebumps all over my body. It's a stretch, but it feels amazing.

“You like that, baby?” Wraith says in a low growl. Is it his finger? Nitro’s? I don’t know. “Are you ready for more?”

A second finger joins the first in my ass, and I find myself moving back and forth, fucking both Tank and the fingers together. Stretched, in a dirty, erotic, sinful way that old Kaylee would've thought was just the realm of twisted fantasy and naughty romance novels, but now is becoming decadent reality.

I moan into Tank's neck, clinging to him and letting the sensations fill me, overwhelm me. And then pause as the fingers are taken away. “Don't have to stop,” I moan.

“Oh, we're not,” says Nitro, and then there's a new pressure there, along with new squirts of lube.

I groan, deep in my throat, as a cock presses against my ass. “Slow. Go slow,” I get out between pants. Tank keeps still so I only have to worry about one cock at once. Like his monster somehow isn't enough.

“We’re not gonna hurt you, sweetheart.”

It starts with little thrusts, slow and careful, just easing a little more inside with each one, and constantly adding more lube every time I so much as wince. Amazingly, while I'm feeling fuller and fuller, and more and more stretched around them, it doesn't hurt. A little ache, a stretch well beyond what I'm used to, but it's nothing compared to how it excites me. I'm being sandwiched between two of my three favorite men as they claim me in a way I wouldn't have thought possible.

When he finally bottoms out, I'm at my limit, but I've done it. I've taken two of them. Two huge cocks, at once. Holy freaking cow. “Just… wait a little. Let me adjust—get used to it.”

“Of course.” He shifts just a little as he wraps his fingers in my hair and tugs just a little.

Tank slides his hands from my hips, and up my sides until he can cup my breasts from the front. His thumbs stroke my rock hard nipples. My whole body tenses. I swear I can feel both of their pulses through their cocks, one in front, one in back. I swallow hard, building some courage.

And then I try to move.

I ease forward, and now that I'm getting used to the fullness, the feeling of both of them sliding out feels strange. Like something's missing. I don't go far, before I push my ass back, taking them right back to their roots. God, there it is, that fullness again.

“Jesus fuck,” Wraith whispers, giving away that it’s him fucking me alongside Tank. His hands go tight around my waist, and I can feel the tension in his grip as he fights to keep from letting loose. It's got to be as excruciating for him as it is for me. He hisses hoarsely, his voice dark and smoldering with passion, “Fuck, Kaylee, stop me now, or I'm not going to be fucking able to.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” I push back at him, and that's all he needs. Wraith’s grip tightens, and he starts to fuck.

My breath is pushed right out of me in a guttural moan. I don’t even have words to describe how crazy it feels. So freaking sexy.

And then Tank starts to move beneath me, his hands moving back to my thighs and gripping them as he thrusts upwards. I dig my fingernails into Tank’s shoulders and cry out. Even behind the blindfold, my eyes squeeze shut, and bright shapes dance over the insides of my eyelids.

Wraith's strokes are steady, fast, just refusing to stop, while Tank's technique is slower, more languid, a little less predictable. Sometimes one's pulling out while the other thrusts in, but other times, they both drive in at once, and that's when I have to hold on just a little extra, digging my nails into Tank's chest. I ache, but it's so good. I feel so stretched, but so connected to them, like we're all one big oversexed organism that can't stop.


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