Page 64 of Cruel Games

“You’re such a menace,” he murmured into the kiss. “Half the time, I want to strangle you and the other half I want to fuck you so hard you can only babble my name.”

“Ummm.” I kissed back with equal enthusiasm.

Orlando pressed into me from behind and nibbled on my neck. A tiny voice in the back of my head screamed at me that this was another trap. That they would lure me into their limo and get me into even more trouble than the sex tape.

But as Orlando’s hand slipped into the keyhole in my catsuit, under my panties, and between my dampening folds, I ground my ass against his erection and moaned.

“You sexy little minx,” Orlando whispered into my ear. “So wet for us.” He swayed his hips against mine, rubbing tiny circles over my clit.

Around us, couples and triples slow danced, too preoccupied with their own liaisons to notice the two boys pressing into my front and back.

“I can’t wait to see you on your knees, sucking us dry,” said Orlando. “Would you like that?”

The thought of pleasuring two gorgeous guys made my core muscles clench, but it was just a fantasy — nothing I would allow myself to do with Orlando and Maxwell.

Orlando’s finger stilled, and he was about to pull his hand out of my catsuit when I grabbed his wrist and broke away from Maxwell’s lips.

“Why did you stop? Too chicken to make a girl cum in the middle of a dance floor?”

Orlando slid the pad of his finger back and forth against my clit. Pleasure surged between my legs, making me moan.

Maxwell kneaded my breasts. “Are you too chicken to get on your knees?”

My legs trembled with the effort of keeping myself upright when all I wanted to do was lie back and submit to the intense sensations emerging from my clit.

Leaning against Orlando’s chest, I bit down hard on my lip. “I’m a bit busy right now.”

A drum solo played over the bossa nova track. Orlando sped up his fingers, intensifying my pleasure. Maxwell leaned forward and sucked on my neck, while Orlando teased my clit to a shuddering climax.

I twitched and spasmed against the onslaught of ecstasy, probably looking like I was having a fit, but the boys kept me upright until I cried out my release.

“That was so hot.” Orlando slipped his finger out from between my folds and sucked it into his mouth.

Maxwell grabbed my wrist and shoved my hand onto the hard bulge in his leather pants. “We’re going to the chill-out room. Now.”

A fast samba song started with a male vocalist singing in rapid Portuguese.

I swayed on my feet and fanned myself. “Thirsty.”

Orlando handed me back my bottle of Smirnoff Ice.

“Thanks.” As I downed the rest of the bottle, I spied the boys exchanging smirks. The kind of self-satisfied expressions that said they were due their blowjobs.

“I’ve got to take off my knickers,” I said. “They’re sopping wet.”

“Can’t you just ignore it?” asked Orlando.

Shaking my head, I backed toward the exit. “It won’t take a minute.”

I hurried into the garage room and glanced over my shoulder to find Maxwell and Orlando at my heels. Shit. That’s what I got for messing with two angry, horny boys.

A pair of security guards stood on the outskirts of the dance floor. I rushed up to the largest one and shouted. “Two guys won’t stop following me around. They want me to go to the chill-out room and suck them off.”

The guard scowled. “Where?”

I hooked my thumb over my shoulder. “The two shirtless wankers.”

The guard gave me a nod and walked toward them. “Wait here.”