Chapter 33: Cash drops to his knees beside the anvil, his tongue darting out to lick where Ronan's thick cock disappears into Elle's dripping pussy. 'Fuck, she's so tight around you, Stone,' he groans, biting her inner thigh hard enough to leave marks as Ronan's thrusts grow rougher, the anvil creaking beneath their combined weight.
The world was a模糊, heat-hazed thing. Elle lay boneless on the anvil, the cold steel a stark contrast to the liquid fire Ronan had poured into her. Her muscles felt like water, her mind quiet for the first time since Cash had dropped her off. The relentless buzz was gone, replaced by a deep, throbbing fullness and the dull ache of being thoroughly used. She could smell him on her skin, in the air—soot, salt, and sex.
Ronan had already turned away, his broad back to her as he fed a new billet of steel into the forge’s maw. The casual indifference was as grounding as the sex had been. He had taken what he needed, given her what she craved, and now the world moved on. The hammer would rise and fall again. She closed her eyes, savoring the residual tremors in her thighs.
The creak of the heavy forge door shattered the rhythm.
“Knock, knock! Delivery for a Ms. Vance? One slightly used, thoroughly fucked redhead?” Cash’s voice, bright and mocking, cut through the dampened air.
Elle’s eyes snapped open. Ronan didn’t turn, but the set of his shoulders tightened minutely. The hammer in his hand stilled.
Cash sauntered into the circle of firelight, his gaze immediately zeroing in on her. His eyes, alight with wicked amusement, swept over her splayed form, the dress rucked up around her waist, the evidence of Ronan’s possession glistening on her inner thighs. A slow, devilish grin spread across his face.
“Well, well. Stone, you didn’t even clean her up for me. That’s just rude.” He clicked his tongue, stepping closer. The scent of his cologne, something clean and citrusy, fought with the forge’s heavier smells.
Ronan finally turned, his expression unreadable. “You’re early.”
“Got bored. The silence from little miss’s toy was deafening.” Cash’s eyes flicked to the workbench where the black vibrator lay, still and silent. “I take it you found a better use for her.”
He reached the anvil and ran a single, possessive finger from Elle’s knee up the inside of her thigh, through the wetness there. She flinched, a fresh spark of sensation jolting through her spent body. Her brattiness, momentarily extinguished, flickered back to life. “Don’t,” she muttered, trying to squeeze her legs shut.
Cash laughed, a light, easy sound. “Oh, she’s got some fight left in her. Good.” He leaned down, his mouth hovering near her ear, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that Ronan could undoubtedly hear. “You feel that, Ellie? Still so sloppy and open for me. Stone here did the hard work. Stretched this sweet little cunt out nice and ready.”
His hand slid higher, his fingers probing, slipping easily into the slick heat Ronan had left behind. Elle gasped, her back arching off the anvil despite herself.
“Get on with it, Cash,” Ronan grumbled, his voice a low thunderclap. He didn’t look at them, instead picking up a pair of heavy tongs and turning back to the fire, but his presence was a wall at their backs.
Cash’s grin widened. “You hear that, baby? Permission granted.” He unbuttoned his jeans with his free hand, the sound of the zipper loud in the tense space. His cock sprang free, hard and eager. He used his thumb to smear her own wetness over the head, his eyes locked on hers. “Now, let’s see if we can’t make you forget his name for a few minutes.”
He didn’t guide himself in. He notched the tip at her entrance, still stretched and sensitive from Ronan’s invasion, and pushed. It was a different feeling—smoother, a relentless, filling pressure that made her cry out. He was thinner than Ronan, but he fucked with a agile, penetrating rhythm that sought out new, untouched places inside her.
“That’s it,” he breathed, his hands gripping her hips, his thumbs digging in. “Take it. You’re so fucking wet. His come is still in there, isn’t it? You’re a mess, Elle. A perfect, filthy mess.”
He drove into her, his pace quicker, more playful than Ronan’s brutal pounding. Each thrust was a taunt, a reminder of his control. He leaned over her, his face inches from hers. “You like this, don’t you? Being the filling in our little sandwich. Used and passed around. It’s what you really want. To be our pretty little fucktoy.”
His words were a violation as profound as the physical act, and they sent a shudder of pure, shameful arousal through her. She hated him. She wanted him to never stop.
The rhythmic clang of Ronan’ hammer started up again, a heavy, metallic counterpoint to the wet, slapping sounds of Cash’s thrusts. It was surreal, being fucked on an anvil while a giant forged steel a few feet away, the heat of the fire bathing her skin.
Cash changed his angle, hitting a spot that made her see stars. “There we go,” he purred. “There’s my girl.” He reached between their bodies, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing tight, frantic circles. The dual assault was too much. Her second orgasm ripped through her with shocking violence, a silent scream tearing from her throat as her body convulsed around his invading length.
Cash groaned, his rhythm faltering as her internal muscles milked him. “Fuck, yes. Squeeze that cock, baby.” He pistoned into her through her climax, his own control fraying. With a sharp, guttural cry, he slammed into her to the hilt, his body stiffening as he emptied himself inside her, adding his own release to Ronan’s.
He collapsed over her for a moment, his weight a familiar burden, his breath hot against her neck. Then he pulled out, the sudden emptiness a small death. He tucked himself away, zipping his jeans with a finality that felt like a dismissal.
Elle could barely move. She felt utterly wrecked, filled beyond capacity, a vessel for their shared desire.
Cash patted her thigh, almost companionably. “Good girl.” He looked over at Ronan, who was quenching another piece of steel, the hiss deafening. “All yours again, Stone. Though I’d say she’s all warmed up.”
Ronan set the tongs down. The water in the barrel settled. He turned and walked towards the anvil, his gaze intent. Cash, with a final wink at Elle, ambled towards the door, whistling.
Ronan stopped beside her. He didn’t speak. He simply looked at her, sprawled and glistening, covered in the evidence of both of them. He reached out, his soot-stained fingers surprisingly gentle as he smoothed her dress down over her legs, a small gesture of possession and care amidst the carnage.
“Get up,” he said, his voice low. “You’re not done yet.”