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“Yes. Yes. As loud as you want.” A deep chuckle—bastard—as he reached fingers under, ripping the X’s off her nipples. “Maybe even like that.”
“Unnnhhh.”
“Just wait, pretty one. Just wait.”
“Fuh you.”
“I prefer fucking you right now, darling pussy.”
“Mmmmm.” And she was really back to that? The mindless moaning? What the hell? But she couldn’t latch onto anything else to be, as the good part of “just wait” finally came. After the initial rush of blood back to the tips of her breasts, both mounds became sensitive, sizzling balls of electricity. With every new plunge of Franz’s cock, her nipples slid along the leather pad—then burst into brilliant spheres of sensation. She even wondered if she’d look down and see they resembled a pair of those purple plasma balls.
If so, then they were all about sharing the magic too.
Everything from her nipples to her knees was a network of light, lust, longing, need…and all of it got worse with every lunge her Dom took into her body. But Franz didn’t stop. Her clenching limbs and pulsing pussy only compelled him to conquer her more. Deeper and deeper he fucked, inspiring the other Doms to do the same, until all over the room, growls of discipline were laced with moans of arousal…and juicy sounds of rising passions.
“That’s it, girl. Take me deep.”
“Pinch your nipples while I do this. Such a good little querida.”
“Yes, boy. You may put your dick into your goddess’s grotto.”
“Your cunt is dripping for me, baby. Spread your legs; show me more.”
“You enjoy my cock in your ass, angel? Good, because I’m going to come there.”
It was so much.
Too much.
Freedom stripping her breath away.
A wash of joy, of inhibitions gone.
A completion she had to have. A flight starting low in her belly, firing sparks and heat and need, before swirling around the rocket of her ultimate pleasure…the final explosion of skin, magic, friction, fantasy, combustion—
Explosion.
She strained, head snapping back, as the cosmic force of it took her.
She screamed, lost to raw feeling, as it convulsed through her.
She surrendered, rocked to her core and taken to the stars, as John slammed into her then froze, roaring with the force of his own blistering release. She shuddered, feeling the fire of his come even through the condom…feeling the intimacy of his lips on her neck, even in a room full of strangers. No. Not strangers. She knew none of their names or faces or even what they liked on their pizza, but they’d made room in their schedules, their lives, and even parts of their hearts for a completely faceless woman tonight. They’d shown up to lend support but done so much more, sharing their intimate selves with her…then consummating one of the most beautiful parts of their humanity with her too.
She was humbled. Moved. And yeah, even floored to the point of having a punch-drunk silly moment, there in the confines of her sleek kitty mask.
“Imagining an audience in its underwear” just got a crazy new lens filter.
Talk about truth being way stranger than the coffee mug inspiration.
Stranger. And better.
If only…
So many things in her world hadn’t also gotten brand-new filters.
If only she wasn’t so obsessed with gazing through all those new lenses now—
Especially the one labeled John Keoni Franzen.
