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“So fucking perfect,” Dante says in a sexy sigh. Can a sigh really be sexy?
Fight-or-flight takes over, and I reach for the edge of the blanket. A large hand wraps around my wrist, and I look up into the stormy eyes of Lucian.
“Do not hide from us, little lamb.” He braces himself on one knee on the bed next to my hip and leans in close. His eyes burn into me, seeing more than just what’s on the surface, seeing straight into my soul. “You. Are. Fucking. Beautiful.”
His lips descend on mine again, stealing the air from my lungs. My mind grows heavy with every passing second he holds my lungs hostage, unable to breathe. My eyes drift shut, and I melt to his will.
Hands caress over my bare breasts, teasing my dusky nipples to hard, sensitive points. I arch my back, trying to press further into the contact. A chuckle to my right draws me from the dense fog clouding my consciousness.
Lucian pulls back just enough to turn his gaze and attention on Dante. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing funny, just amused. She’s drowning in your kiss, and, yet, her body is still very responsive to touch. It gives me an idea.”
Fingers play over my lower abdomen, ghosting a featherlight touch as they draw random spiral-like patterns. Zings of electricity jump from nerve to nerve as the fingers move lower, entering the small patch of curls that point in the direction my body and mind crave their fingers to go.
I open my eyes, finally, and take notice that both of my hands are pinned above my head in Lucian’s large grip. I peer down the length of my body when the fingers stop moving, an incredulous comment hanging heavy on my tongue. But when I find all three men staring intently at my face, looks of hunger—desire—burning in their gazes, the words evaporate, and, suddenly, my mouth is very dry.
The finger poised at the opening of my slit delves deeper, brushing over my clit. I gasp, my hips bucking off the bed. Two hands pin my hips to the mattress, and the thumb rolling over my clit presses harder, rubbing slow, measured strokes over the bundle of nerves.
The guys lean in closer to each other, whispering low enough I can’t hear a word they’re saying. I should care, right? But as a finger slips inside of me, rubbing along my inner front wall, I honestly don’t give a fuck what they’re discussing. They could be talking about football—or hell, plotting to kill me—but in this moment, I honestly can’t bring myself to give two fucks. So long as they continue to do what they’re doing.
Another finger slides along the first, sinking deeper inside and waking nerves I forgot I had. He makes a come-hither motion, catching that sweet spot with the tip of his finger, and my back arches off the bed as I moan.
“Oh, fuck, yes. Please, don’t stop.”
The thumb on my clit slows, letting up on the pressure, and I whine in protest. The fingers inside draw back and slowly glide in and out.
My gaze catches on each of the men surrounding me. Lucian and Dante on either side of me. Lucian lays down, the length of his body pressing against my side, his large hand still holding mine securely in place. He leans in, peppering kisses along my collarbone, down my sternum, and over one breast before sucking my nipple into his mouth.
Dante sits beside my right hip, one hand resting on my stomach. Gently, he glides his finger up to my other breast, tracing around the nipple and up my arm before repeating the motion in reverse. Over and over, he drives the sensitive nerves along the path crazy with continuous light touches, leaving me covered in goosebumps.
A nip at my inner thigh draws my startled attention to where Otis is laying between my open legs. He dips his head, his tongue peeking between his full lips, and licks a strip over my clit, sending a bone rattling shiver shooting up my spine. Fuck me, I really want him to do that again. No one has ever been between my legs like he is.
A vivid image of seeing his bright hazel eyes peering up at me as he devours my pussy sears itself into my mind, erotic and all-consuming.
I drop my head back into the pillows and stare up at the dark ceiling, unsure what I’m supposed to do in a moment like this. Do I moan, gasp, fake some kind of over-the-top reaction, or just let it be natural? Do I writhe around, trying to break free? God, why do I have to be such a freak? Three men toy with my body, waking nerves I never knew existed, and, yet, I’m too in my head to fully enjoy it.
As though he’s fully in tune with my internal dilemma, Dante saves me, giving me directions. “The only thing we want you to do tonight is lay there and enjoy the way we worship your body,” he trails his finger around my tight, sensitive nipple, “giving you everything you need and desire. To do that, we want you to focus on what you feel, not what you see. Therefore, I’m going to blindfold you. Would that be okay?” A black silk cloth hangs delicately from between Dante’s fingers when he brings his other hand, the one not toying with me, into view.
Apprehension floods my mind for just a second. No. I won’t let my hang-ups stop me from denying what I want, and saints know I want this. I want them.
Devin
Darkness. Nothing but utter darkness coats my vision. The men have pulled back, removing all forms of touch from my body. My soul aches for the connection again. My body demands their touch, urging me to reach out and take it back.
A knuckle brushes over my cheek, along the line of the blindfold. The sudden silent touch causing me to flinch, a rush of flight-or-fight instincts.
“You doing okay there, little lamb?” Lucian’s voice is taunting, but at the same time, it holds an edge of concern. His lips brush over my ear as he whispers in a tone so low it sends vibrations straight to my clit, “Let go, little lamb. You don’t have to be in control. Just. Let. Go.” He punctuates his point by biting down on the junction of my neck and shoulder.
A long moan escapes me, and I melt into the bed, angling my head to the side to give him better access. Encouraging him to maintain the point of contact. My hands are gathered and coaxed over my head again. I don’t fight or protest, conceding control and giving in to the promise of pleasure they continue to give me.
“Such a good girl, princess.” Hands wrap around my ankles, and massage up both legs, over my knees, to knead my thighs before making their way back down to my ankles and repeating the movement. “Fuck, you look so goddamn sexy stretched out in front of us like this.”
Something about those words resonates inside of me. The praise he speaks gives me a little thrill of excitement. Part of me wants nothing more than to continue to please him and have him say those things to me again and again.
Heat crawls through my body. Fingertips trace the same path from my navel up between my breasts before the weight of a hand settles around my throat. “He’s right, you know. You are the sexiest thing I have ever seen. God, how I’d love to paint you, just like this. A colorful blush of bright shades of red on milky pale skin, highlighting the valleys and curves of your breasts.” A single finger traces over my right breast, circling my nipple. “The dusky rose of your areolas and pale pink of your nipples.”
“Don’t forget about these red curls leading us to the sweetest nectar any man would happily drown himself in.”
