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“Are you ready to get that pretty pussy filled again?” There’s an edge to James’s voice tonight that wasn’t there before. Is it because he couldn’t get into my room? I didn’t have anything to do with that, but I get the feeling I’ll be the one who ends up being punished for it. I can’t win either way. I can only hope one of them will come to my aid the way Nix did last night. But what are the chances of that happening? I’m not fooling myself.
James turns to Colt while Nix waits off to the side, staring at my body but not yet making a move to touch me. “You know what to do.” Colt lifts his hips to lower his jeans and his shorts. He isn’t quite hard yet, I see.
“Look at that body,” James murmurs, almost crooning the words as he turns his gaze on me. “Think of all the things you want to do to her. How you want to break her on your cock and make her sob out your name. And she wants to ride it, too. Just like the little slut she is, always hungry for more.”
The man is mental, top to bottom. Making these things up in his head for his own pleasure and amusement. Colt strokes himself, staring at my boobs while he does. Either it’s the sight of me or his father’s encouragement—he lengthens, hardens.
“Leni, you’re going to ride his cock tonight. Get on over there. Spread those legs wide, so I can see him sink into you.”
It’s like I’m not connected to my body anymore, dragging my feet over to where Colt waits for me with his dick sticking straight up. It’s better this way. I don’t want to feel connected to any of this. Colt slouches a little, making it easier for me to straddle him with my back to James. “Ease into it,” James orders. “Nice and slow. I want to see every inch sink into her. Take your time.”
I would rather be anywhere but here. My thighs are spread wide, and slowly Colt lines himself up with my hole before sliding inside. I’m still sore from yesterday, which I didn’t realize until this very moment. I lower myself one grueling inch at a time, hissing in pain. I hate every sound James makes, his satisfied little grunts as he begins stroking himself behind us. That sound is burned into my brain now. Skin on skin.
“That’s nice.” He sighs once I’m as low as I can go, locked with Colt, looking anywhere but at his face. “Leni, touch him. Show him how good you feel. Reach back and grab his balls. Play with them a little.” I have to put an arm around Colt’s neck to keep my balance while reaching behind me. Hesitantly, I touch the place where we are joined, padding my way down to his balls. The skin there is soft and warm as I start to fondle him. His quickened breath tells me I’m doing well, so I continue the motion, massaging them a little.
“You’re going to empty those balls into your pussy, aren’t you?” James mutters with a nasty little laugh. “Now fuck him. Ride that cock—but go slow. Real slow.”
Yes, why not drag this out? Why not make it even more unbearable? I’m not quite sure what I’m doing or how I’m supposed to move, but Colt’s hands on my hips go a long way toward helping me set a pace. I let him do it, handing it over to him for now because I don’t have it in me. I just don’t.
“Spread her ass cheeks,” James mutters. “I want to see her asshole.” I close my eyes and lower my head, a tear dangling off the edge of my lashes. James’s satisfied little grunt when Colt spreads my cheeks brings another tear, another. And all the while, I have to ride and pretend to enjoy it.
That isn’t the worst part, not at all. The worst part is the way my body seems to wake up a little with every downward stroke. I know why, too—I can’t help but grind my clit against him, and the friction is both terrible and heavenly. I don’t want this. I don’t want to feel good. As bad as this is, the thought of coming, of proving to James’s twisted mind that I’m enjoying this, is infinitely worse.
“I’m guessing you’ve still never had anybody in that tight little hole, have you?” James asks. “Maybe we’ll have to change that tonight.” I can’t help the whimper that comes out of me any more than I can help the growing disgust that spreads through me. “What do you think about that?”
“It’s okay,” Colt whispers. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t even want to think about what we’re doing. I can’t acknowledge him, no matter what he says.
