"I don't want to." I shake my head, the only thing I seem to have control over, and the motion clears my fuzzy thoughts enough that I decide to do it more. I shake my head faster, quicker from side to side.
His fingers probe blindly between my legs. I feel every stab and catch of his nails as he seeks my entrance, and my tears build, flowing faster.
"Nick..." The rest of my plea fractures on a sob as he finds my core, his fingers fighting for entry, the uncomfortable friction burning as he tries to force his way in.
"So fucking stubborn." He grunts, irritation filling his voice as he pins my thigh to the ground, his weight crushing me as he tries to work himself in. I have the barest moment of relief when he pulls his fingers away, but he only spits into his hand before returning to my entrance. This time, his spit lubricates his intrusion... at least for a second. He pushes inside, forcing me to stretch even as I try to push him out, to break his fucking fingers.
"There we are." He smirks, pushing hard and deep and making me gasp, trying to crawl backwards away from him. But still, my limbs don't move. What the fuck is wrong with me?
"She's a dead fish." Cole groans. "You fucked up the dose, Brant."
The dose?
"Hurts." I gasp when he plunges deep, his fingers reaching so far inside of me that it feels like he may come out through my stomach. Each stroke feels like sandpaper scratching and stretching my insides, and when he thrusts upwards, it feels like he's pinching me.
"She needs to be wetter." Brant says. "Need me to cum inside and get her nice and soaked for you two?"
"Nick," I pant, trying not to suffocate on the panic or choke on my tears.
"Fuck, I love when you say my name. You're getting me so hard, Nikki."
As if trying to prove his point, he pulls away, and something thick and warm and soft nudges against my entrance.
"No!"
"It's okay. I'm gonna get you ready first... you need to loosen up."
I don't know what that means until his hand falls between my legs again. This time, though, he doesn't seek entry. He drags his fingers from my sore entrance to the top, dragging them along my slit and up, landing on my clit and procuring a gasp from me as his touch sends a jolt of electricity through me.
"Look, boys. I've found the mythical clit."
My stomach tightens in horror as he rubs his thumb over it, watching the way it moves beneath his touch before switching track, caressing it in small, slow circles.
The horror mixes with something distinctly less awful, and the two things blur into something even worse than what's been happening. The pain from his intrusion has subsided, and in its place is a warm sort of pleasure that is building with each small revolution.
This is wrong, and disgusting, and I don't want to do this with him.
But my body is coming alive by the second. I still can't make myself move, but sensation is returning to me in microdoses, rippling through me with each new wave of disgusting pleasure.
"Stop!" I beg, everything inside of me clenching as I try to fight it. "Nick... please don't..."
"Looks like she's getting close."
"Oh, she's soaking now. Look at that." Nick laughs, dipping his fingers lower for just long enough to run them along my slit, collecting the slickness that's gathered there... proof of my arousal. Proof of how fucking disgusting I am, that I am enjoying this.
Shame sears through me, the only emotion I’m suddenly capable of.
I can feel my fingers when I dig them into the ground, but it's not enough. Whatever they gave me still has a hold on me, and when Nick's fingers return to my clit, I lose the ability to focus again.
"Nick!" I beg him, but it comes out as a moan, a sound that causes laughter to ring out in the church.
The church.
Oh my God.
I cannot have sex with Nick in the church.
"Shh. I'm going to let you come first."
