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I open my mouth to protest and curse at him, but Thorne is a master at this kind of ambush, and I’m nothing more than a fumbling, incompetent student. Two fingers hook the corner of my mouth before I can get my words out, and with the other hand, he slides a hot palm up and over my rib cage until he reaches the curve below my breasts.
Drool quickly collects at the corner of my mouth, and I’m arching like a cat in heat as he teases my nipples through the velvet material of my dress. Without a bra, I’m able to feel every point of contact, and Thorne uses that to his advantage. Thumbing with an expert touch over my sensitive, hardened peaks until I’m making desperate noises against his fingers.
An ache starts to build in my shoulders thanks to having my arms crushed against his ridiculously hard muscles. The metal of the cuffs chafes and digs into my skin.
Thorne presses his fingers deep and firm against my tongue. “I don’t need a brat, Foxglove.”
Fuck him for the way he says my name and the fact that every time he does, it makes my pussy clench. Not only that, his voice makes me want to sink to my knees, worship his cock, and say thank you for the privilege of having him fill my mouth.
“I need a good girl who craves the feeling of submission. Are you going to be a good girl for me and let me finger this pussy whenever I want?”
Oh, my god. Yes.
I make a humming noise around his fingers. There’s a mess of drool down one side of my face, and the thong I’m wearing just burst into flames.
“Are you going to be an obedient little slut, who knows exactly who owns her, and opens her legs for us all?”
Fuck. Thorne Calliano has effortlessly tapped into a part of my brain that has been begging for a master.
His mouth is hot at my ear. “Is that a yes?”
I nod frantically against his two fingers. That seems to satisfy him because he lets my mouth go, allowing both hands to now wander freely.
Over the wild thudding of my pulse, I hear Ky shifting around in the front seat.
“Jesus,” he mutters as I catch his reflection in the rearview. There’s an anguished look of arousal on his face.
All I can see of Raven is the back of his wild hair and the whites of his knuckles gripping the steering wheel.
“You’re going to come on my fingers, while that wet cunt of yours drips all over me, and then when we get back, we’re going to fuck you until sunrise.”
Who is this person, and where did they bury the body of stern, silent Thorne? This man has a filthy mouth on him, and he wants to fuck me, and I’m so relieved I could weep.
He’s completely scrambled my brain and body, flinging my sanity out past the point of no return. So, I say the only thing I can think of as his hands roam over my tits, squeezing and pinching at my begging nipples.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
Thorne makes a feral noise, and his hips give an involuntary thrust beneath me. Oh, yes, he’s definitely a Daddy. I’ve never called anyone that before, but it slipped out, and now that I know it affects him, it’s my new favorite thing. That and the direction his hands are moving in. He slides them lower over the curve of my waist until he reaches the crease of my thighs. With one firm tug at the side of my thong, he rips the soaked lace off me.
“Ffffuck.” Ky sounds like he’s dying in the front seat. Which only gets worse when Thorne tosses him the scrap of fabric coated in the evidence of my arousal. “You’re such a dick.” Squirming, he readjusts himself like he’s going to crawl out of his skin.
“Got something to say?” Thorne growls and fuck me this man is so unfairly hot. “You’ve already disobeyed me once when it comes to her pussy, so you can sit there and listen to me finger fuck her until she screams my name.”
Hearing him be possessive over me shouldn’t be turning me on. But I’m a writhing mess, desperate for him to uphold that promise and touch me properly for the first time. Even if I have to beg for it.
“Did you like having both their cocks, hmm?” Thorne turns his attention back to me, sucking my earlobe into his mouth, and I nearly levitate off his lap.
“Yes.” God, yes. My head drops back against the crook of his neck. At this point I couldn’t care less about the way my shoulder joints burn or how the cuffs dig in relentlessly.
“Do you really think you can handle three of us?” His tone is rough but laced with unchecked arousal.
“I want all of you.” My breathy voice doesn’t even sound like me; the only noise in this car is my frantic breathing and tiny whines as his hold digs against the softness of my thighs, almost to the point of agony.
He’s got me panting and lifting my hips, and the man hasn’t even touched me properly yet.
“You’re ours. We own you. So no other man, or woman, fucking touches you. Do you understand me, Foxglove?”
Jesus. A wanton noise escapes me that is something of a cross between a yes and a fuck yes.
