The last note of the song hangs in the air and then fades into a ringing silence.
Before I can even catch my breath, Cast is on his feet. He crosses the room in three calculated strides, like a predator finally unleashed. His eyes are locked on me, dark and unwavering, and there’s no mistaking the intensity burning in them.
I stay exactly where I am, sprawled on the edge of the bed, my breath still uneven from the performance. The sheer robe has fallen completely open, the red lace beneath on full display. He doesn’t falter—doesn’t pause to admire or hesitate—because this isn’t about admiration. This is about unwrapping what’s been tantalizingly dangled in front of him.
When he reaches me, he stands there for a heartbeat, towering over me, his shadow swallowing me whole. His fingers twitch at his sides, and I can practically feel the heat radiating off him.
“Hands to yourself,” I murmur, my tone bratty and teasing, but there’s a shiver in my voice that betrays just how much this moment is affecting me too.
“The dance is over,” he growls, low and dangerous. His hand snaps out, grasping the tie of my robe and yanking me closer. His gaze never wavers from mine as he gives it a sharp tug, letting the fabric slide open fully, revealing every inch of the lingerie beneath.
“Now it’s my turn.”
His mouth crashes down on mine, a brutal, possessive invasion that steals the last of my air. It’s a battle for dominance I’m more than happy to lose. My hands fly up, not to push him away, but to tangle in the dark silk of his hair, holding him to me as my lips part in surrender. I can taste the expensive whiskey on his tongue, the raw, masculine heat of him. It’s everything I want.
A low chuckle rumbles from behind me. Damien. “Seems she’s all talk and no fight, Cast. Look at her justmeltfor you.”
Cast breaks the kiss, leaving my lips swollen and tingling. He grips my chin, forcing my head to turn towards the other two men. Vincent is watching from the armchair, his gaze a physical weight, hot and appreciative. Damien is already shrugging out of his shirt, a predatory smirk playing on his lips.
“Look at my pretty little toy,” Cast smiles, his voice a rough gravel that vibrates through my bones. “Waiting to be undressed and fucked.”
The humiliation is a sharp, sweet sting. It makes my core clench, a fresh wave of heat pooling between my legs.Yes.This is it. To be laid bare, not just my body, but my wanton desperation for them.
“Let’s see the gift then,” Vincent says, his voice deceptively soft. “All of it.”
Cast’s hands move to the straps of the red lace teddy. With a strength that makes me gasp, he doesn’t unfasten it. Heripsit. The delicate lace gives way with a sharp tearing sound, and the ruined garment falls away from my breasts. The cool air hits my peaked nipples, and I moan, arching my back instinctively.
“No,” Cast commands, his hand pressing flat against my sternum, pushing me back down onto the silk duvet. “You don’t move unless we tell you to. Understood? You’re ourcanvas. Ourtoy. You don’t get to make the art. You just get to feel it.”
A whimper escapes me. “Yes.”
Damien is on the bed now, kneeling by my head. He strokes my hair, a strangely tender gesture that contrasts violently with the possession in his eyes. “Such a pretty mouth. It looks so innocent. I think it’s lying.”
Vincent moves to the foot of the bed, his hands smoothing up my calves, pushing my knees apart. The world narrows to their three points of contact. Damien’s fingers in my hair. Vincent’s hands on my inner thighs. Cast’s possessive grip on my hip.
“Who gets her first?” Vincent asks, though his eyes are already fixed on the wetness gleaming at my core.
“We don’t take turns,” Cast says, his voice absolutely final. “We take what we want. You can take all three, can’t you baby?”
I nod mindlessly, and Vincent tsks at me.
“You know you have to use your words, Princess.”
I nod, my voice wavering as I talk. “Y-yes I can take you all.”
Damien guides himself to my lips. I open my mouth without hesitation, my tongue darting out to taste the salty pre-cum beading at his tip. He lets out a guttural groan.“Fuck, yes. Just like that. Your pretty little mouth was made for this, wasn’t it?”
The words are a brand. I suckle him, taking him deeper, the stretch of my jaw a delicious ache. I am nothing but sensation. The weight of him on my tongue. The musky, clean scent of his skin.
At the same time, Vincent’s thumb finds my clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles. I cry out around Damien’s cock, the sound muffled, vibrating through him. He thrusts gently into my mouth, a shallow rhythm that promises so much more.
And Cast… Cast is behind Vincent, pouring something slick and cool into his palm. I hear the click of a bottle cap. Lube. My heart hammers against my ribs. He’s not aiming for my pussy. He presses a slick, insistent finger against my other hole. The tight, taboo ring of muscle.
My eyes fly open, meeting Damien’s. He sees the shock there, and his smirk widens. “Shhh, sweet thing. Just relax. Let us in.All the way in.”
I force my body to go limp, surrendering completely. This is the ultimate act of trust. The ultimate degradation. To be filled in every possible way.
Cast’s finger works me open with a ruthless precision, the burn exquisite, transforming into a deep, shocking pleasure as he crooks his finger. Vincent replaces his thumb with his tongue, lapping at my clit with a focus that makes me see stars. I’m moaning uncontrollably around Damien’s cock, my hips straining, desperate for more.
