Chapter 34: Ronan pins Elle's wrists to the anvil while Cash fucks her mouth in deep, rhythmic strokes – their combined groans and the wet slap of skin filling the forge as burning embers rain down around them, branding her skin with tiny starbursts of pain amidst the overwhelming pleasure.
The hiss of steam from the quenched steel faded, leaving only the crackle of the forge and the ragged sound of Elle’s breathing. Ronan’s command hung in the heated air, a stone dropped into the pool of her exhaustion. You’re not done yet.
Before she could even process the words, his hand was on her arm, his grip firm but not cruel, pulling her upright on the anvil. Her legs trembled, threatening to buckle. The combined spend of both men leaked from her, a warm, shameful trickle down her inner thigh. She felt hollowed out and impossibly full all at once.
Ronan released her arm and picked up a clean rag from his workbench, dampening it in a bucket of cool water. He turned back to her, his dark eyes unreadable. “Hands,” he said, his voice a low rumble.
Confused, she held them out. He took her right wrist, his calloused thumb stroking over her pulse point for a fleeting second before he began to wipe her palm. He cleaned her fingers with a methodical, practiced care, as if she were one of his finer tools. He worked his way between each finger, washing away the sweat and grime. The simple, domestic act was so at odds with the raw violation of moments before that tears pricked her eyes. She looked away, towards the dying embers.
When her right hand was clean, he moved to the left. This was the one. He paused, holding her gaze as he brought her fingertips to his lips. His tongue, hot and rough, licked a stripe across her pads. He was tasting Cash. Tasting them both. A shudder wracked her frame.
“Now you,” he said, his voice dropping even lower. He guided her cleaned fingers to her own mouth. “Taste what we put in you.”
A fresh wave of humiliation washed over her, hot and sharp. Her brattiness surged, a final, feeble defense. She clenched her jaw, pressing her lips together.
A shadow fell over them. “Having trouble with the instructions, Ellie?” Cash’s voice was a silken taunt from the doorway. He hadn’t left. He was leaning against the jamb, arms crossed, watching the scene with avid interest. “Does she need a demonstration, Stone?”
Ronan’s eyes never left hers. He didn’t need Cash’s help. His free hand came up and tangled in her hair, not yanking, but applying a steady, inexorable pressure that tilted her head back. “Open.”
The command brooked no refusal. A small, broken sound escaped her as her lips parted. He pushed her fingers past her teeth. The taste was musky, salty, profoundly intimate and degrading. She gagged instinctively, but he held her there, his expression granite.
“Swallow it,” he murmured, the words for her alone. “It’s yours now.”
She obeyed, the act a final surrender that seemed to dissolve her very bones. As she swallowed, Ronan released her hair. But the reprieve was momentary. In one fluid motion, he turned her on the anvil, bending her over the cold, scarred metal. Her cheek pressed against its unforgiving surface.
“Since you’re already on your knees,” Cash said, his footsteps echoing as he approached. He came to stand in front of her, unbuckling his belt again. His cock, half-hard and glistening with a fresh drop of moisture, was level with her face. “Might as well put that mouth to use. Clean me up.”
He didn't wait for permission. He fisted his hand in her red hair, the grip far less patient than Ronan’s had been, and pulled her head forward. The head of his cock bumped against her lips. “Open wide, baby. You know you want it.”
She resisted for a half-second, a token struggle that only made him tighten his grip. Then, with a sigh that felt like it came from the depths of her soul, she opened her mouth. He pushed in, not with a slow, sensual glide, but with a single, confident thrust that buried his length in her throat. She choked, her eyes watering, her nostrils filled with the scent of him and the forge.
“That’s it,” Cash groaned, his hips rocking forward, fucking her face with shallow, relentless strokes. “Take it all. Such a pretty little cocksucker.” His words were filthy, painting a vivid, obscene picture in the air between them. “Your throat is so fucking tight. Bet you can feel me in your belly.”
Behind her, she heard the rustle of Ronan’s jeans, the soft, wet sound of him stroking himself. The anvil was her entire world, the cold metal beneath her cheek, Cash’s cock stretching her lips, and the looming, silent presence of Ronan at her back.
She felt the broad, slick head of Ronan’s cock nudge against her from behind, probing the entrance that was still loose and wet from their earlier use. He pressed forward, a slow, immense pressure that made her gasp around Cash’s length. The feeling of being filled at both ends was overwhelming, a complete and total occupation. She was a conduit for their pleasure, a thing of flesh and heat and sound.
Cash laughed, a breathless, excited sound. “Fuck, yes. She’s all ours, Stone. Every fucking inch.”
Ronan answered with a deep, guttural groan as he sheathed himself fully inside her, his hips meeting the backs of her thighs. He set a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving her forward onto Cash’s cock, forcing it deeper into her throat. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The world narrowed to the slam of Ronan’s body against hers and the suffocating fullness in her mouth.
Cash’s fingers tightened in her hair, his thrusts becoming jerky, uncontrolled. “Gonna come, Ellie. You’re gonna swallow every drop.” He held her head still, burying himself to the hilt as he orgasmed, his release flooding the back of her throat. She had no choice but to swallow, the bitter taste a second branding.
The moment Cash pulled out, Ronan’s pace intensified. His hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he drove into her with a final, brutal series of thrusts. With a raw, animalistic sound that was torn from the core of him, he emptied himself inside her, his heat a stark contrast to the cold metal beneath her.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of heavy breathing and the pop of the forge. Then, Ronan pulled out, and Elle slumped over the anvil, completely spent. Dribbles of come and saliva slicked her chin.
Cash tucked himself away, running a hand through his hair. “Well. That was a productive evening.” He leaned down, his voice softening to a whisper near her ear. “You did so good, baby girl.”
Ronan righted her slowly, his hands surprisingly gentle again. He used the damp rag to wipe her face, then her thighs. He pulled her dress down, the simple cotton now a shield. He didn’t speak. He just held her upright as her legs threatened to give way, his solid presence the only thing keeping her from crumbling to the floor.
Cash gave a two-fingered salute and disappeared out the door, his whistle echoing faintly in the yard.
Ronan looked down at her, his dark eyes searching her face. He brushed a strand of sweat-dampened hair from her cheek. “Come on,” he said, his voice rough but quiet. “Let’s get you to bed.”