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My eyes widen when Markus drags a blindfold from his pocket. The black piece of fabric looks innocent enough, but the idea of losing my sight around these volatile predators is terrifying.
Tiny mewls escape me as Markus wraps the fabric around my head, soaking my world in darkness.
Grigory releases me and pushes me forward. Into the warm embrace of Markus’s arms.
Suddenly, it’s like all the primal hunger has faded. Markus holds me tenderly as he presses tiny kisses to my head, and I sink into him, inhaling his familiar scent.
Grigory is as gentle when he gathers my arms behind my back and starts twining rope around my wrists. It’s a strange sensation, standing here between the two men, feeling utterly safe even as fear flickers in my mind.
Markus caresses my back, soothing me with slow strokes, and as I sink into the trance of their control, I realize the blindfold is a relief. It keeps me safe in the darkness—away from the barren atmosphere of the room and their hungry eyes.
But when both men suddenly step back, all sense of safety vanishes into thin air.
My world is thrust into wavering uncertainty, darkness, and loss of control.
Standing completely still, I listen for them, but I can’t hear anything but my own breaths and the pounding of my heart. So I turn around, take one step forward, then two backward. With a few more uncertain movements, I lose all sense of direction.
“Where are you?” I say, my words coming out in a thin voice.
No answer.
I tug at my arms, needing to remove the blindfold—to see where I am, to see where they are. But the ropes hold them firmly in place, and as I stagger back and forth with small steps, I grow more and more disoriented—scared of bumping into something or stumbling and crashing to the floor.
Finally, I do bump into something. A hard chest.
The relief barely registers before I’m shoved backward. I cry out as I lose my footing, stumbling blindly as I prepare for the crash with the floor. But I never hit the ground. Someone catches me, hauling me into a warm body.
“I’ve got you, sweetie,” a warm voice whispers. Markus.
Heat rushes through my system, cleansing the shock from my tense muscles. I melt back into him with a moan.
“Good girl,” he says, planting a kiss on top of my head.
And then I fly forward, into a new set of arms.
A rumbling sound of appreciation vibrates in Grigory’s chest as he holds me close, allowing me a moment’s reprieve before shoving me back to Markus.
They keep going like this, passing me between each other, and soon I lose all sense of who is who. I moan, yelp, pant, and squeal. Adrenaline spikes in my blood each time one sends me flying. Then I’m heaving a sigh of relief as I snuggle into whoever catches me. A moment later, a new wave of shock tears through me as I stumble across the floor.
But no matter how much my feet shuffle, I never fall. They always catch me, and at some point, the fear fades. Submission takes its place—trust. I give in, slackening my muscles as I let them send me flying through the air.
“Is she wet?” someone asks, but I can’t gauge if it’s the man holding me or the other one—can’t figure out if it’s Grigory or Markus.
A hand slides into my pants, and I let out a startled moan when fingers touch my mound. My skin is hypersensitive. The mere graze of fingers has me shuddering, and I buck from the intense burst of sensation as a finger slides over my clit.
There’s a satisfied hum, or maybe a mocking huff, as the finger dips between my folds.
My dripping wet folds.
I gasp. I didn’t realize I was wet. Barely realized I was turned on. But suddenly, I notice how my entire body pulses with desire, my inner walls clenching like they could draw the finger deeper.
“You like being helpless, huh?”
I don’t get to answer before I crash through the air again and into another chest.
A strong hand clamps around my waist as fingers slide into my pants, straight down to my opening to shove a finger in.
I let out a startled moan. I’m panting hard, grinding to gain a little more friction. But the hand draws back.
