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She shifts her weight on her elbow and holds up three fingers.
I drop the first aid kit and sink to my knees behind her, the wound in my leg protests at the movement, but I’m beyond noticing.
Cassandra sighs and relaxes into the pose, arching her back and lifting her ass.
I shuffle closer to her, my pants catching on the rough carpet. But then I remember her bloody feet.
“Butterfly.” I lightly drag a finger down the outside of her foot. “You’re hurting.”
“Hans, I’m aching.” Her hips shift.
And I decide I can multitask.
CHAPTER127
Cassie
Hans reachesaround my waist and starts to undo my pants.
“You’re going to have to hold still and stay quiet.” He tugs the zipper down. “If you can’t do that, I won’t let you finish.”
I nod my head, agreeing to whatever he wants, as he works my pants and underwear down my hips, stopping with the material bunched just below the juncture of my thighs.
Hans clicks his tongue. “Little Girl, what have you done to yourself?”
I feel his breath a moment before he presses a soft kiss to the center of my butt cheek.
A tickling sensation dances up my spine at the tender touch, but I stay still.
I can hear him shift behind me, but I’ve dropped my head forward so I can’t see what he’s doing.
A fingertip traces a pattern across my skin, then it ghosts down my crack, toward my entrance, without applying any pressure.
My legs are pressed together, but with the way I’m presenting myself to him, he can see my core. So I’m sure he can see how ready I am.
“Remember,” Hans whispers. “Stay still. And stay quiet.”
Even covered with blinds, the thin window does nothing to dampen the sound of the men on the other side.
I nod my head.
“Hand over your mouth, Butterfly.”
The bratty part of me wants to argue that I can stay quiet on my own. But the needy part of me wants to do whatever it will take for him to hurry up and put his dick in me.
I put my hand over my mouth, and Hans rubs his finger against my slit just as he pours water over the sole of my foot.
It’s cold. And I jerk at the shock, my body shifting forward, but at the same time, Hans shoves two fingers inside me.
Involuntarily, I make a sound between a moan and a cry, and I press my hand harder against my mouth.
Water splashes over my other foot, but the fingers inside of me stay put.
I squeeze my eyes shut. The mixture of arousal and discomfort swirls, making me even hotter.
“My poor girl,” Hans murmurs behind me, sliding his fingers in and out of me.
There’s a click, and I assume he’s opening the first aid kit.
