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The sound of sex is a debauched symphony filling my senses as if I were inhaling intoxicating fumes. As if I were high on the destruction of this beautiful woman. I fucking love it.
I grip her hips, while Hawk cups her tits. Our hands tease and taunt, and the closer I get to the edge, I know we’re never going to let her go. Crow’s hand wraps around Lucille’s throat, and he squeezes, while his dick is buried deep in her esophagus. Her eyes widen, and he smiles down at her.
I watch as he leans in and allows his saliva to dribble from his tongue into her mouth as she tries to pull in air. The sight is so erotic, I dig my fingers into her hips, the soft flesh giving way, and I thrust one last time, my release filling her, coating her inside, making sure my mark is there.
“Fuck,” Hawk grunts, and his head drops back, pleasure painted across his features as he finds bliss, while Crow sucks Lucille’s tongue into his mouth.
He murmurs against her lips, “Our little slut.” He grins manically as she fights for breath, her cunt choking the life out of my now softening dick.
I can’t help smiling as I reach for her hardened little nub, and I pinch her clit until she’s mewling, the sound nothing more than a croak as she tries to call out one of our names. It could be a prayer, or it could be a cry for mercy, but Crow doesn’t know about leniency.
He moves into her mouth, and grunts before his own release paints her tongue, then her cheeks. “Such a pretty, dirty, little girl.”
When he moves away, I cup her face in my hands and pull her in, tugging her closer until she’s inches from me. With slow, gentle strokes, I lap at the salty release, and we share it in a kiss made of lust and desire. Passion ignites between us, and Hawk’s two fingers, dripping with his own cum is offered to us like the goddamned communion.
Lucille takes it without thinking, and I watch as she sucks both digits clean, before she tangles her tongue with mine, and we share the sticky, salty fluid.
I’ve never come across a woman so open to filth. To the darkness. I have never met a woman who enjoys the scenes we do, but she does. As her cunt drips down my thighs, I can’t help but enjoy the warmth of the three bodies around me.
This may have been our first foray into a foursome, but it certainly won’t be the last.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LUCILLE
The guys have been working, and I’ve been holed up in the guest bedroom. I’m no longer locked in a basement, which feels good. After our intimate evening, having them both practically worship me, I’ve been on edge. You don’t go from hate to lust so quickly. Granted, a hate fuck is always good. But with all three of them being busy with trying to find my father and his associates, I’ve been left to my own devices.
But boredom has set in. There is only so much reality television you can watch before you go stir crazy. I’m not allowed to leave the house. I don’t mind, because if Dad does find me, I don’t want to be vulnerable. That will only end up with me dead or sold off to some Bratva leader.
I still haven’t told them what had happened. It’s one thing which has been bothering me. I know if I confessed about my past, they would look at me differently. I don’t want to see the pity in their eyes.
I survived and I’m stronger for it. Most of those nights I’ve locked away in my mind. It’s safe in a box where it can’t hurt me. But the moment the lock is picked, I’m going to break down. Secrets can only be hidden for so long, and when they break free, there’s no stopping it.
I move through the house silently. There isn’t a noise coming from anywhere. I find myself in Crow’s bedroom, which is all black. It fits him. The darkness he exudes is so obvious in the furnishings. The sleek king sized bed on a platform of charcoal metal. I flick a switch by his bedside, and the floor under the bed illuminates with a deep blue. The headboard and nightstands are made of the same dark gray material.
The sheets are black along with the pillowcases. A floor to ceiling window overlooks darkness. The moon is hidden by the clouds, so the rest of the room is in shadows. The walls are painted in black, but the carpet is pure white. Cabinets with drawers sit opposite the bed, with a flat screen attached to the wall above.
I move through the space, inhaling his scent of cedar and cinnamon. It’s masculine, and yet, calming. In his walk in closet, I run my fingertips over the material of his suits, shirts, and his workout clothes.
