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Jon’s gloved fingers between my thighs were something else entirely. He touched me with the knowledge of a man who knew how to ply a woman and it showed. He played with me, varying the pressure from light to heavy and everything in between until I was practically panting in heat with half a dozen men watching.
My hips bucked a little bit more. I tried to stop them, but my body was betraying me at a frightening pace. I felt like I was on a train about to hurtle off its tracks. My core twisted harshly, a coil wound so tight that it was about to break.
The sound of my strangled cry broke the silence. One of the brutes standing by the door smirked and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to put my head out of this whole thing, but I couldn’t. Jon’s fingers pressed more firmly, and I gasped as the hard line of his cock pulsed against my hip.
“You stole from me, Mila. I’m going to teach you a lesson you won’t ever forget,” Jon said darkly, and my clit pulsed beneath his fingers. The promise in his voice was both terrifying and impossibly arousing and despite everything in me that tried to stop it, the very first tendrils of a powerful orgasm began to take hold.
My hips rocked back and forth, and I clamped my lips shut, but I’m sure the men watching heard my moans anyway. My core clenched down impossibly hard, and my inner walls fluttered with need, pulsing as brilliant hot unwanted bliss pitched through my system. Bright white light blinded me, and I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter, completely mortified.
My skin prickled with passionate fire, every single nerve set ablaze with powerful ecstasy that refused to quell for a very long time.
By the time that orgasm faded, I was certain it had been harder than any single one I’d ever had before.
No one had ever seen me come before. I swallowed forlornly. Now at least six men had watched one forced on me and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.
I wanted to hate it. I wanted to scream profanities at the unfairness of the whole thing and how I was utterly mortified to break apart like that in front of others, but my body was radiating with powerful heat.
There was a part of me that wanted him to do it again.
I hated myself for even thinking it.
The fight in me had been subdued somehow. I lay against the desk, thankful for its support. A soft shiver raced down my spine as I tried to catch my breath. My blood surged through my veins like whitewater rapids, fast and furious and full of blissful heat. My fingers and the tips of my toes tingled with sensation.
Jon hadn’t taken his hand away from my body. I whined softly as he pulled back, circling a lone finger around the entrance of my pussy in a manner that was both threatening and arousing at the same time.
One gloved finger breached my entrance, sliding in embarrassingly easily through my rampant wetness. He pumped that single digit in and out of my pussy slowly and I turned my head, hiding my face against the desk. His thick knuckles stretched my body open each time they pushed into me and before long, I was panting with need once again. I didn’t want to show that he was getting to me.
Fuck.
How could I make myself not respond to this?
He added a second finger and I gasped. This time, it hurt just the slightest bit. The burning stretch stung and settled in deep into my core. He pushed both fingers all the way inside and brushed a place deep within that made me cry out at the same time that it made my toes curl. He spread those digits apart a little, stretching my pussy open and I keened, pain and pleasure at war within my body. I didn’t want to like it, but my body wasn’t giving me a choice.
He was touching me in all the wrong ways, so why did it feel so impossibly good?
“I’m not hiding anything,” I pleaded, but my voice trembled, exposing how very much I was enjoying this whole sordid ordeal. He didn’t respond this time, instead focusing on shamefully searching my body. One finger slid forward and grazed my clit, causing another volley of desire to rattle me from within. My hips jerked, almost as if I was seeking him out.
I was mortified to be acting like this. He was a criminal and he wanted nothing more than to make an example of me. I just had to survive this.
He took his time to thoroughly probe my pussy, pressing his fingers in and out of me in such a shameful way that it made me shiver with need.
Why did I want him to keep going? Why did I want him to make me come this way too?
“I don’t think you’re keeping anything in this very tight, soaking wet pussy… No…” Jon pronounced. A fiery flush crept over my cheeks, and I curled my chin in toward my chest as much as I could so the onlookers couldn’t see how mortified I was right now.
He pumped his fingers in and out of me several times and my body unconsciously responded to him without my permission. My back arched in a way that made those thick digits sink even deeper. I couldn’t stop the way my inner walls clenched around him. I closed my eyes, drowning in shame knowing that he could probably feel every time my inner walls clamped around those gloved fingers.
My body was telling him things my mind didn’t want him to know and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
My mortification only grew a thousand-fold when he knelt down behind me. I tried not to think about the view he had of my most private of places, up close and personal enough to see every inch of my body that no one but me was supposed to see. My thighs quaked, but that did nothing to hide me from his inspecting gaze.
His fingers thrust into me more roughly after that, enough to make my pussy feel a little sore. Then he slowed down, thrusting his thick digits into me more purposefully.
Painfully.
A part of me wanted him to go faster while yet another yearned for him to replace those fingers with something else.
I bit my lip. No. That would not happen. It shouldn’t. I couldn’t let it.
