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“No, Dandelion. That won’t do. Open your eyes.”
I do.
“Good. Now look at me,” he says as his fingers rest along the lace of the panties.
I swallow hard but do as he says.
“Good girl. Do you know what we want?” he asks as he slides his hand inside the panties and cups my sex.
I find myself squirming and hate myself for leaning toward him rather than away.
“We want to watch you come.”
“No. I… No.”
“Shh.” Bastian closes his mouth over the pulse at my neck and sucks, and I’m up on tiptoe as Amadeo manipulates my clit. I hear the sound of it, of my arousal, and I smell myself. It’s not long before my knees are buckling, and I’m only upright because I’m leaning against Bastian.
“That’s it,” Amadeo says. “Give yourself over to it. You belong to us.”
“I… can’t…”
He leans his face to mine, the scruff of his jaw tickling my cheek as he whispers into my ear. “You can. You will. Come for us, Dandelion.”
With that, he does something with his fingers, dipping two inside me, hooking me as his thumb plays furiously with my clit. I exhale loudly, lean my forehead onto his shoulder, and close my eyes because my body is no longer under my control. It’s theirs. And I’m coming. I’m coming so hard I bite my own lip and cry out between the pain of it and the pleasure of Amadeo’s fingers inside me. Bastian’s mouth on my neck, his fingers at my nipple. I come. And when it’s done, when my orgasm subsides and I’m left trembling, humiliation sets in as the brothers look at me, watch me, eyes on fire, smiles playing along their lips.
“Kneel, Dandelion,” Bastian says, lowering me down as he does.
I can’t not obey because my legs have turned to mush, and I can’t stand on my own.
He crouches behind me, Amadeo before me.
“You’re very pretty when you come,” Amadeo says. He presses his fingers to my lips smearing the crimson lipstick with a glossy sheen of my own come. “Very pretty.”
They stand, and from my place, I see they, too, are aroused. I remain where I am as Bastian moves to stand beside his brother, and they both look down at me, towering over me, and there’s that reflection again. Me with my breasts exposed, my face flushed, mascara smeared along my temple as I kneel before them.
They wait until I turn my gaze up to theirs, and a lone tear slides down one cheek because what have I just allowed to happen? How could I come for them? How could I have taken pleasure from their touch?
“Now thank us, Dandelion,” Bastian says. “Thank us for making you come.”
“I hate you,” I tell them, wiping that tear and the ones that follow.
“You hate us because you came. Because you liked it,” Bastian says.
“I didn’t.”
Amadeo brings his fingers to his nose as if that were evidence to the contrary, and I guess it is.
“Thank us all the same,” Amadeo says. “And we can all go home. I don’t know about you, but it’s been a long night.”
“Fuck you,” I tell him.
They glance at each other, smiling. Amadeo walks behind me, and I’m about to stand when Bastian tsks and puts his hand on his belt.
“Stay,” he says.
I do.
Amadeo gathers up my hair and twists it high on my head. I know what’s coming, and I brace myself, but it still hurts when he tugs.
