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30
Rory strides down a vast corridor containing classrooms larger than any in Lochkelvin, testing each door along the stone strip like an experienced carjacker until one gives way.
He ushers us inside. It’s some kind of computing lab, with a bank of black-screened monitors. The temperature here is warmer than anywhere else as dozens of computers tick and crick and creak in a windowless room, processing noisily in the background. There are signs of former habitation in scrawled abandoned notes and empty lidded drinks but for now no one else is here.
“I don’t know how long we’ve got,” Rory mutters into my hair, and he grabs my hips to draw me closer to him. Instantly, his thick erection digs into me, and I feel myself already growing slick. It’s been too long. “All I know is I need to do this to you.” He crushes his mouth against mine, so swift and brutal that my arms cling around his neck and I end up dipping backward and dragging Rory down with me.
I collide with Finlay’s shoulder. He steers me upright, looping his arms around my front. The three of us end up grinding together, and it’s just like that magical night in the Lochkelvin loch, when the three of us made love beneath the moonlight.
“You ready to come in record time, little saint?” Rory whispers close to my lips. His hand deftly undoes the button of my jeans while Finlay yanks down my zipper from behind.
He doesn’t bother to pull my jeans to my knees. He doesn’t even peel aside my underwear to expose me. Instead, his hand dives instantly inside the fabric and his fingers land on my clit as though magnetically attracted. My hips buck automatically against his warm fingertips, craving the hot sparks he fires down my veins.
Finlay’s lips brush adoring kisses across the back of my neck. And perhaps my new shirt really is the sexiest he’s found me, because his erection grows steadily firmer against my backside the more he fondles my breasts, his fingers tracing the black text stretched across them.
“You have the cutest arse,” Finlay mutters as he grinds into me. “The cutest tits,” he adds, plucking my nipples into tight, budding peaks. “The cutest fuckin’ everythin’.”
“Tell me, little saint,” Rory suddenly growls, his hand ceasing all movements, “what do you want?”
I give a needy moan, jerking my hips closer to Rory, attempting to force his hand into resuming its actions. “What doyouthink?”
“I want to hear you say it. And remember,” he adds in a dark, teasing tone, “anyonecould come in here and see you on the verge of coming. So I’d recommend you answer quickly.”
I’d glare daggers at him, but I’m overwhelmed by Finlay rolling my breasts beneath his palms and Rory’s hand hovering so achingly close to my cunt. I make a soft gurgling noise instead.
“Answer, little saint,” Rory commands, and a small, wicked smirk beats at the corner of his mouth. “Answer, or I’ll get Fin to open the door. Do you want the entirety of St. Camford to see and hear you come?”
The threat is enough for me to clench with burning desire. His smirk widens, his silver eyes glittering knowingly as his fingers become slicker between the heat of my thighs.
“Ye say that like I can tear my hands aff her,” Finlay mutters unevenly, his breath coming out in shallow pants as his cock digs insistently against the crease of my backside.
“Do you like having your cock touched?” Rory drawls, and Finlay’s hands on my breasts give a shaky pause. I groan beneath him, desperate for him to continue. “Then you’d be wise to do as I say.”
“Aye-aye, master,” Finlay mutters, deeply sarcastic, but he can’t hide the private jolt of his cock against me as he speaks these words.
“She seems to be quite the exhibitionist, anyway, so perhaps it’s not punishment enough.” His lips graze my cheek, and my senses are engulfed by Rory in every single way. Paper, ink, spice. His fingers lightly trace my wet folds, the soft caress enough to send me wriggling between Finlay’s arms. “Tell me what you want, little saint, and I’m all yours. That’s all you have to do.”
“Give me it,” I pant, breathless.
“Give what? Come on, little saint, you can do better than that,” Rory murmurs, his gaze on me penetrating. “Talk dirty to me.”
I swallow and lick my lips. “You. I want you.”
“Still not dirty.” His mouth brushes across my cheek, and his lips whisper sin into my ear, “I want to see you desecrated.”
My stomach flips.
There’s that word again.
Desecrated.
“I want to break you to build you better. In this chaotic world, someone who knows their own mind is an unstoppable force. So tell me what you want, using specific words, and you’ll be all the stronger for it, little saint.”
My throat is too dry to speak. Finlay’s heart bangs against the back of my ribs like a secret knock.
“I want you… to take your fingers,” I whisper brokenly, my eyelids fluttering. My head rolls back onto Finlay’s shoulder, exposing my throat, and I gaze dreamily at the cream ceiling tiles, at the fan whirring lightly above us. “Move them all over me… my clit. Push them inside me and…” I pause, wetting my lips, “fuckme hard enough that I scream. Make me come. Make me come so hard that your tongue has to lick me dry, until I don’t know what day it is or who I am anymore.” The silence thickens and heats around us, and in a softer voice I whisper, “Please.”
Rory’s cock surges against my front. “Better,” he murmurs approvingly, and then ravishes my mouth with his.
