Page 50 of Sweet Torment

“Look at you,” Owen breathes, the hand from his good side fisting his own cock slowly, spreading the wetness at the tip down the shaft. His chest rises and falls rapidly, pain and desire warring in his expression.

I move to straddle him, my thighs bracketing his hips, careful not to jostle his injured side. The heat of his skin against mine makes me dizzy.

“Nice and easy,” Freddie says, his hands on my hips to guide me. His fingers dig into the soft flesh there, betraying his own need. “Be careful.”

Careful. The word is absurd when every cell in my body is screaming. But I force myself to move slowly, positioning myself over Owen while Freddie keeps me steady. I can feel slickness running down my inner thighs. I’m embarrassingly wet.

“That’s it,” Owen growls, his good hand sliding between my legs, fingers tracing through the wetness there. “Fuck.”

His fingers slide through me, and just that simple touch has me biting my lip and wanting to scream. When he pushes two fingers inside, I can’t stop the sound that comes out. The stretch burns in the best way, my walls clenching greedily around him. “So fucking tight,” he says, voice strained. “Gonna stretch you open on my knot.”

“Owen,” I whine, grinding down on his fingers, chasing more.

“What do you need, Princess?” His thumb finds my clit, the callus on his finger creating delicious friction against the sensitive spot. “Tell me.”

“You,” I gasp, my hips jerking as he presses harder. “I need you. Inside me. Now.”

He pulls his fingers out, and I nearly cry, but then Freddie helps me lift myself into position, the broad head of Owen’s cock pressing against my entrance.

“Go slow,” Freddie warns, his breath hot against my ear.

“Fuck slow,” Owen growls, his hand moving to grip my hip. “Ride me however you want, Princess.”

But I do go slow at first, sinking down inch by careful inch, taking just the tip before lifting back up. The tease is killing us both—I can see it in the way his face scrunches up and in the trembling of my own thighs.

“More,” Owen demands. “Stop babying me.”

“You were shot,” I remind him, still moving with agonizing care, watching his face for any sign of pain. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You think I give a fuck about my shoulder right now?”

“I’m sorry you can’t fully enjoy this,” I whisper, guilt mixing with pleasure as I sink down another inch. “Sorry you got hurt⁠—”

“Princess,” he cuts me off, his voice intense, eyes locked on mine. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this? Since the first time I touched myself. I wouldn’t change a damn thing. Now stop apologizing and fuck me.”

That breaks my control. I sink down harder, faster, taking more of him. He’s so thick; the stretch makes me whimper. “That’s it,” his hips bucking up to meet me. “Take it all.”

Freddie’s hands move to my breasts, cupping their weight before rolling my nipples between his fingers while I ride Owen. The dual sensation makes my rhythm falter. “You look beautiful like this,” Freddie murmurs, his voice thick with want.

“Oh god,” I sob, my head falling back as pleasure builds at the base of my spine. Every touch sends sparks through my overheated body, every nerve ending alive and singing.

Tristan moves closer too, his attention split between checking Owen’s shoulder and the way my hips are moving. “She’s close,” he observes.

“Fuck,” I gasp as Freddie’s mouth replaces his fingers on my breast, sucking hard. The wet heat of his tongue against my nipple sends a jolt straight to my core, and I bear down on Owen.

“So responsive,” Tristan murmurs, reaching out to rub his thumb over my bottom lip. The pad of his finger is rough against the sensitive flesh before he leans in to press a soft kiss against my mouth.

It’s easy to lose myself in them. I’m tired of hurting. I just want to feel good. My movements are more erratic now as I chase the orgasm building low in my belly. Owen’s face is tight with strain—his shoulder must be screaming, but he doesn’t complain, his eyes fixed on where our bodies join.

“Owen,” I whine, feeling myself flutter around his length.

“Back the hell up,” Owen suddenly barks, aimed at Tristan and Freddie. “Both of you. Now.”

“She’s ours too,” Tristan points out, though he does ease back, and so does Freddie. The loss of their touch makes me whimper.

“Not while my cock’s inside her.” His hand slides up to cup my breast possessively.

“Be nice,” I gasp, already missing their touches. The more, the merrier in my opinion.