"Such a nice guy." Brant snorts.
"That's good old Saint Nick for ya." Cole laughs, too. "Always thinking of others."
I don't want to have sex with him at all, but I especially don't want him to make me come. I don't want him to make me feel good.
Noah made me feel good, but it wasn't like this. He was slower, gentler, and he loved to tease me, building me up with his tongue and then pushing me over the edge. This, though? Nick is relentless, demanding as he circles three fingers over my clit, rubbing it in vigorous circles and breathing heavily as he watches my face, trying to look for cues.
The heat is building fast— painfully so— and I can feel it pushing and pulsing beneath my flesh, pressure begging for release. I can feel my toes, too, curling so hard that they feel like they're cramping, and my body is stiff, rigid as I try to deny what is going to happen regardless of whether I want it to or not.
I can't hold back the gasp anymore as it nears a flashpoint, and I hate myself.
I hate myself more than I've ever hated anyone, more than I hate Nick or Cole or even Brant.
I hate myself because I'm weak, a stupid whore wilting so easily, giving something that was never meant to be shared with him.
"Look at her face! She's going to blow."
I'm holding so tight to the air in my lungs that I think I may suffocate on it, and I'm trying not to breathe, not to let myself relax into it. I turn my head, trying to hide the shame searing into my soul.
I'm going to hell for this, I know.
A hand closes around my throat, turning me back to face him...them.
I knew that Cole and Brant were watching, but I think some part of my brain was trying to protect me from realizing the full impact of that. But now, I'm face to face with Brant, whose hand is wrapped around my throat, keeping me from turning away from him.
My thighs ache, but the feeling is returning to them enough to allow me to try and push away.
Nick moves with me, refusing to release his grip as he slams himself on my thighs again, pinning me back against the ground. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to deny the rapid building inside of me, the devastation that is seconds away from ravaging me.
I fight as best as I can, trying to get some freedom from the pulsing between my thighs, to slip out from his touch, to free myself from the hand closing off my air supply and intensifying everything I can still feel.
A sharp slap to my breast sets off a chain reaction, making my eyes fly open as I gasp, strangling around the lack of oxygen and the lightheadedness that was starting to set in. A choking sound slips out of me before Brant squeezes harder, and Nick doubles down, circling faster as everything inside of me reaches a crescendo, a point of absolutely no return.
"I think she likes a bit of pain." Someone laughs.
They test that theory, pinching a nipple between rough fingers and twisting, hard, at the same time Nick thrusts his fingers inside of me... the fingers of his other hand.
The combination is too intense. All the sensations are too much, and I can't even focus on a singular one. My body doesn't let me. Instead, it folds, and I come, screaming as my walls clamp around his fingers, trying to pull them deeper now instead of forcing them out. The grip on my throat shifts lower, not letting go of me as Nick releases my clit, his fingers pumping into me, gliding easily now.
He doesn't let me down, just fucks me through the release with his fingers, not letting me recover from the orgasm before it seems like he's trying to coax another one.
I don't know if I'm relieved or horrified when he stops just long enough to pull his fingers from inside of me and replace them with his dick. He lines it up with me easily, magnetized to my core even without him having to look, and begins to push inside of me.
He goes in so easily that my body feels like an even bigger traitor than it did seconds before, sinking deeper inch by inch, reaching a place no one has been before and making me sob harder at how fucking easy I made it for him.
My virginity belonged to Noah— the promise ring he gave me in tenth grade, the one still on my left finger, was a symbol of that.
No one else was supposed to have this... especially not him. Especially not like this.
I'm choking on my sobs, tears flooding my face as he lowers himself overtop of me, sinking inside so that we're connected at his base, and I can feel his balls against my ass cheeks, which are still dripping with my arousal.
I know I should keep trying to get away. I should keep trying to appeal to him, to get him to stop. But what's the point? He's already taken so much... made me give him so much.
"Shut up." Nick growls, his frustration evident as he presses his hand to my mouth. The scent of my own desire floods my nostrils, and I hope I fucking suffocate on it. I deserve that. If I don't die from that or the hand on my throat, it will certainly be on my shame.
Nick digs his fingers into my lips, prying them apart, seeking entrance to another part of me, asking me to give him more. And if I don't give it, he will just take.
"Suck." He commands, shoving them against my tongue so hard that I gag, his fingers in close proximity to the back of my tongue.
