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I rest my hands on the back of the sofa and my chest on top, knowing I’m completely open to their eyes from behind. I can hear the rustle of material as clothes are shed, and anticipation tingles at my skin. Someone strokes their fingers slowly down my back, while another someone runs their fingers through my arousal, coating themselves before sliding one inside me, oh so slowly. Another is added, then another, and I have to work to keep my hips still, the slight pain of the stretch only ramping up my excitement.
“You want us to stop, and we will,” Sawyer reminds me from somewhere behind me, but I’m ready to beg them tonever, everstop.
“Fuck, you look so perfect, Harlow,” Ezra breathes. “Ready for us to please how we see fit. You won’t even know who is who—who is making you scream, or whose cock you’re coming on.” I drop my head forward as my muscles clench at his words, and I know they can see how that makes me feel. Someone swipes their fingers in it, and I hear the suction as they put it in their mouth.
“Please,” I plead.
“We’re going to make you come so many times you can’t remember yourself,” Sawyer promises. “Count them for us, Angel, okay?”
“Okay.”
There’s hands on my ass, and Ezra’s right—I have no idea who it is, or even how many hands there are. I could probably guess, but my brain is going haywire, overloaded with sensations, and I’m focused only on the emptiness of me, how desperately my body wants to be filled. My entrance is opened wider, then someone pushes all the way in, and I spasm around him. Handfuls of my ass are squeezed as whoever is inside me thrusts in and out steadily, and I’m right there, ready to tip over the edge. A fingertip grazing my clit is all it takes for me to detonate, my moans filling the room as pleasure shudders over my whole body. Before my orgasm has finished, he pulls out and someone else takes his place, driving deep into me. Big hands hold my waist, pulling me back onto him with a jolt, moving me as well as himself relentlessly. He’s wringing satisfaction out of me, and it’s working, building me back up with unabating thrusts of his solid length. My second orgasm crashes over me, making darkness dance at the edges of my vision as I scream. I’m panting and resting my weight on the back of the couch as whoever that was slips out of me, and the couch moves as they step away to join the others.
A light slap hits one ass cheek, and I hiss.
“You’re not counting,” Nico says, amusement in his tone.
“Two,” I say on a heavy breath.
“Two to our none. Maybe we should really use you now,” Ezra contemplates.
I think it’s Ezra lining up behind me now with gentle hands on my hips, and he slams into me without warning, pushing in up to the hilt before pulling all the way out of me quickly, and the feeling of emptiness nearly makes me cry. Then someone else takes his place, and another, as they take turns to mercilessly plunge into me—sometimes one thrust, sometimes a few, but never enough to tip me over the edge again. I can’t even try to keep track of who is who, just greedily taking whatever they give me, gripping futilely onto the couch while they take their pleasure. The reminder that they’re in control of what they give me—that I’m taking whoever wants me next—is the thought that has my next orgasm bearing down on me. I clench around the next guy, and he fucks me like it’s his sole purpose in life, his hard thrusts pushing me over the edge as his dick jerks inside me and his hips grind against me as he finishes with a growl. I whimper when he pulls out.
“Three,” I drawl out, barely able to do more than moan.
Sawyer groans. “Fuck, that’s a pretty view.”
“You know what we see, baby?” Ezra asks. “We see your swollen pussy leaking cum.” How do Ezra’s words still have such an effect on me, even three orgasms in? “We’re gonna use that as lube to carry on fucking you until you scream.”
I moan involuntarily, wiggling my hips in invitation, and someone obliges, pushing their cum back inside me with their fingers and twisting them to bring me more pleasure. Then the fingers are replaced by someone’s cock pumping in hard, fast thrusts, and they follow through on Ezra’s promise—they don’t stop until I’m hoarse from screaming.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Nico
I wake up blissfully, with Harlow fidgeting in my arms and pressing her soft lips to my throat. Somehow, we’re alone, the guys having disappeared, although I’m sure they’re not far.
“Morning,” I whisper, and she leaves a kiss on my jaw without replying. I lazily roam my hands over the dip in her waist, over her hips and around her ass, loving the feel of the bare skin of her smooth curves. I love the feel of her in my arms, in any way, shape, or form. Naked is an added bonus. Having the time to slowly wake up with her feels idyllic. It feels so normal that it’s bliss. Nothing matters when I’m here with Harlow pressed against me. The door clicks open quietly, but I don’t move, even as Harlow leans up on an elbow to see who it is.
“Morning,” Sawyer says to Harlow softly. “Get up, sleepyhead; we’ve got plans.” He claps as her eyes light up at his good mood.
“What plans?”
“I’ll tell you once you’re showered and dressed.” She narrows her eyes playfully at him, assessing her options.
“With coffee waiting?” she asks hopefully, and he grins.
“Of course.”
It takes a little while for everyone to be showered and dressed because there are so many of us using one bathroom, and no one dares to shower with Harlow this morning, knowing we’ve got somewhere to be and how easily a dripping wet Harlow can distract us. But finally, we’re all in the kitchen as Sawyer lets Harlow know we’re going to visit his parents. She’s as pleased as the first time I saw him tell her, and knowing it’s the last time before The Games probably makes it even better.
“Are you coming?” Harlow asks me, which is the last thing I’m expecting. Before I can answer, my phone rings in my pocket. I pull it out, see it’s my father calling, and put it straight back into my pocket. I’m not sure if the sinking feeling in my gut is for the call or Harlow’s question. “Nico?”
“I think I’ll leave you to it,” I say tactically, trying not to notice her shoulders droop. The last place I should be is chatting pleasantly in Sawyer’s parents’ house. I’m still not sure that he doesn’t hate my guts for what happened, and I can barely look him in the eyes from the guilt. I wouldn’t blame him if he does. Harlow leans up to me for a gentle kiss before Ezra opens the door for her, letting her go in front of him. I’m following them out a couple of steps behind when Sawyer speaks from behind me.
“They’d love to see you again,” he say casually, and my eyes shoot to him over my shoulder as I turn. I can’t help the hope that I’m sure is shining from them.
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell him. I don’t deserve any accommodation from him, especially not when it comes to this.
