Connor let out a deep groan, the sort she knew she’d feel if she were pressed against him. “So, maybe you showed up expecting to ask us?” He ran his finger along her bare cunt, as if reminding her she’d chosen to wear no panties.
And ithadbeen a choice. She’d had the pair they’d sent, but after a good five minutes of staring at them she’d gone without.
She might have said ‘no sex’ at first, an easy thing to say when standing there in front of them—the reality was that she wanted to feel like she had again that first night. She wanted to be overwhelmed and out of control and at their mercy. How else could she possibly understand this need inside her until she really sank into it?
Connor didn’t seem to want an answer from her—the answer is obvious, isn’t it?—and he pressed two thick fingers deep into her.
She shifted forward, not out of fear but surprise. Again, the way they touched her excited her, as if they had every right, as if she were just a plaything for them to enjoy at their whim.
Yet each thing they did excited her, too. Each confident touch, each eager stroke all made her need more.
She couldn’t close her thighs, not with them bound and spread on the sawhorse. It left her exposed to Connor, to whatever he wanted to do. She was lower than them, so had to peer up to see their faces.
The power imbalance was clear…
Garrison left her for a moment, going back to the bag, before bringing something black and round. That fear started to creep in, but she refused to let it take hold.
Or maybe the way Connor fingered her did that…
Garrison crouched so he was eye level. He lifted the thing he’d grabbed—a ball, it turned out. He squeezed it, and it squeaked, then he tucked it into her hand. “If you need to take a break, if you need us to stop, you squeeze that. It’s loud enough we’ll hear it.”
“Am I not allowed to speak?” The idea of them stealing her voice terrified her.
Garrison stroked his fingers over her cheek. “I’m not going to gag you, and you’re always allowed to speak, at least unless we discuss it first.”
“So why do I need this?”
He moved two fingers from her cheek to her lips, sliding across them as if applying lipstick, then pressed past them. “I’m planning on putting your pretty little mouth to use. You drove me crazy with it that first night, especially when you bite your lips, when you lick them. I’ve been wanting to slide my cock between them ever since.”
He didn’t ask her if it was okay. Instead, he pulled back his fingers and pressed them in again, a mimic of thrusting, and Sunny did what he asked without needing to ask. She sucked, teasing her tongue across the joints, at the seam between his two fingers.
He withdrew them. “Give me a number, sweet.”
For tasting him? For feeling his cock with her tongue? “Nine,” she offered without hesitation.
“That’s a good answer.”
He rose, then undid the belt of his slacks. Another moment of fear skirted through her, but when he left the belt through the loops and removed his pants entirely, it faded away. He murmured,“Good girl,” so quietly, she wondered if she’d heard it at all.
He removed his boxers next, then set it all on the dresser. His shirt was last, leaving him finally naked.
He is absolutely mouth-watering.If she’d seen this the first night, no doubt she’d have begged them to take her. His body was flawless, with a sexyVthat led to a trail of dark hair from his navel to a neatly trimmed patch at his groin. His cock was curved up slightly, hard enough that it rested against his lower stomach rather than hanging forward. He was long but not too thick, with the head wider than the base and a vein she wanted nothing more than to trace with her tongue.
From her peripheral vision, she caught the other men disrobing, but didn’t get to ogle them the way she did Garrison.
He wrapped a hand around his shaft, stroking himself once from tip to base, letting out a deep, masculine moan. “I have to admit, I’ve been looking forward to taking your cunt, especially after the taste of it I got before, but there is something about your lips. I knew you’d make the perfect picture with them stretched out around me.”
His words weresographic, so filthy. He spoke as if he weren’t talking about her giving him a blow job, as though it were any old conversation. Yet she didn’t feel ashamed. They didn’t make her want to cover herself—they made her want to show him more, to prove he was right, that she was good.
Garrison came forward, grasping her chin with his free hand, then rubbing the head of his cock against her lips. He left wetness behind, like a gloss, and she used her tongue to taste it. Salty, masculine and absolutely addictive.
He pressed against her closed lips, and she let him in, opening her mouth to give him access. She moved her hands, trying to reach, to grasp the base of his cock.
The rattle of the hooks and her lack of progress reminded her that they’d taken all her freedom. She couldn’t control the speed, the depth, couldn’t demand more or less. All she could do was accept what they gave her.
And they gave her plenty.
Connor plunged his fingers into her, rough and quick. He twisted his hand so his knuckles rubbed against different areas inside her, sparking each to life. He still hadn’t touched her clit.