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A large four poster bed, big enough for six bodies, sits front and center in the open space. I run my hand over the dark red comforter. Black velvet swirls decorate the bedding, giving it a gothic look that matches the feel of the room very well.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, my eyes catch on various toys, including handcuffs, whips, and blindfolds hanging invitingly on the far wall. Below them, on a low table, laid out in a row, are dildos of all sizes and shapes, clamps, rings, bottles of lube, and so much more. All of it puts my trusty little collection to shame.
Excitement and nervousness war in my veins, lighting me on fire from the inside. I can feel the heat settling in my cheeks, burning behind my eyes. Pulling in a tight breath of air, I let my eyes fall closed, and my hands rub firmly over the tops of my thighs. My body rocks back and forth, an attempt to dispel some of the excess adrenaline-fueled energy pumping through me. I take a deep breath and another and another. Four slow breaths have that familiar centering calm washing through me from my head to my toes.
When I open my eyes, I’m shocked by the sight before me. Lucian, hazel eyes from the elevator, and a newcomer with gemstone green eyes and messy brown hair all stand in the doorway, their hungry gazes fixed firmly on me.
“I have a feeling I’m going to need a safe word,” I pant, my voice cracking on the last word.
Three menacing smiles flash in my direction as they all stalk forward like predators, and I’m their helpless prey.
Devin
Lucian comes to stand in front of me, his grey eyes sparkling in the low light of the room. He hooks a thumb in the direction of my elevator savior and says, “This is Otis, and that,” he points to the newcomer, “is Dante. They’re here to help sate your need for touch and fulfill your body’s every carnal desire.”
He places his large hands on my shoulders and caresses down my arms until his hands meet mine. Taking both of my hands in his much larger—and stronger—ones, he tugs me forward, urging me to stand, and leads me to the foot of the bed.
Dante closes the door, flicking a switch on the wall that lights up red. I give him a puzzling look, and he smiles as he states, “That switch turns on a red light above the door, letting everyone know that this room is occupied. We don’t lock the doors for safety reasons, but we also don’t want people to just walk in when things start getting heated.”
“Good thinking,” I say, swallowing the nervous lump in my throat as they each step forward, surrounding me. The bed at my back, Dante on my right, Otis on my left, and Lucian the ever-present form in front of me, my hands still in his. His thumbs rub soothingly over the backs of my hands.
“Breathe, little lamb,” he whispers, bending down to my level and meeting my gaze. “No one is going to do anything here this evening that you don’t consent to.”
“If what you want is to climb on the bed, fully clothed, and have us sandwich you in a cuddle puddle, that’s what we’ll do. If you want to spend the night with just one of us, then the other two will leave. This night is about you and your desires, about letting your inhibitions go and just being free to explore. But no one, least of all, us, is going to force you into something you’re not comfortable with,” Dante says, stepping closer and tucking a stray hair behind my ear, his hand coming to rest on the back of my neck.
Otis steps closer, placing a hand on my shoulder before rubbing it up and down my back. “You’re safe with us. We won’t judge you, nor will we let you judge yourself for what you want. But I will ask you for one thing before anything happens between us.”
I look at Otis. “What?” I ask skeptically.
“What’s your name, princess?”
A smile splits my face, and I lean forward, my forehead landing on Lucian’s chest as a comical laugh rips its way through me. An equally loud rumble of laughter vibrates through his body, tickling my face.
Collecting myself, I stand straighter and look over to Otis. “I’m Devin, but my friends all call me Devy.”
Otis’ hand slides around to my side, and his fingers press into my hip, tugging me into his body. In a low sensual tone, he whispers in my ear, “And are we friends, Devin? Do I get to call you Devy? Whisper it in your ear when you’ve drawn all the breath from my lungs with your gasps and moans of pleasure as you writhe beneath me, chasing that sweet release?”
Images conjured by his words flit through my mind. My greedy pussy quivers, and my knees go weak, threatening to send me to the floor.
Otis’ arm around me tightens, holding me to his body. Lucian and Dante step in closer, crowding me in between their bodies. Hands skim over me from head to hips, touching every inch they can.
“Do you want what we’re offering you tonight, little lamb?” Lucian asks, the warmth of his breath cooling the beads of sweat forming along my forehead.
His words filter through the haze of lust, desire, and confusion muddling my mind. A needy whimper escapes me when lips press against the sensitive skin below my right ear, sucking gently before pulling away. “Yes,” I say, breathy with yearning, my greedy body taking full control and demanding I accept their proffered offering.
My hands fly up and grip Lucian’s forearms when he cups my face in his large, calloused hands, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Say it, little lamb. Tell us what you want.” His eyes search mine for a long moment.
Nervously, I lick my bottom lip. The movement causing a grin to break out on Lucian’s face before he descends on me, sealing his lips to mine. He devours my mouth, demanding my submission. His tongue pokes at the seam of my lips, and I open for him. He explores my mouth, licking along my teeth before caressing over my tongue, coaxing me into deepening the connection.
Hands continue to roam my body, never daring to touch areas considered inappropriate before gaining permission. In the back of my hazy thoughts, a glimmer of appreciation for their respect of my feelings and boundaries takes root.
I tighten my grip on Lucian, and he lets me up for air. “Fuck, I want it all,” I rasp between bouts of air.
Permission granted, six hands scrabble at my clothes. The buttons of my pants, the hem of my shirt, and the zippers of my boots. Before I can utter a protest, my clothes are flying across the room, and I'm being lifted by a strong pair of arms and deposited in the middle of the bed.
Three sets of eyes trail over my naked body in what feels like a physical caress. Heat fills my veins, burning me from the inside out. Oxygen hisses through my clenched teeth, filling my lungs with ragged, shallow breaths. Electricity shoots through my body, causing the hairs on my arms to stand on end.
My first instinct is to cover myself. To run and hide from their slow, agonizing perusals of my body. From what feels like silent judgment. But Dante’s words replay in my mind. I need to let go, be free to indulge in what they’re offering.
