The soft way he takes my breast into his mouth surprises me. He’s taking his time, in no rush whatsoever to get inside, despite the hard bulge I feel digging into my thigh.
Make that two.
I open my eyes and find the third already displayed directly in front of me. Skipper is naked from the waist down and alreadydoing something about his erection, massaging himself while staring at me.
“Come here,” I order.
“Not yet, sweetheart. I’m happy admiring the view.”
“It’s a splendid view,” Vex chips in, removing my pants. “Very splendid indeed.”
Before I can take my next breath, he’s plunging a finger deep into my hole. I moan, arching my hips to get the finger even deeper inside.
I’m not surprised to see that his finger is soaking wet when he withdraws it.
I can deny it all I want, but the wet finger is concrete evidence that I have feelings for Carter and his two friends.
Not emotional ones.
I’m talking about intense feelings. Ones that are out of my control.
But is that a good enough excuse as to why I’m getting naked for three outlaw bikers instead of picking up my son from preschool? Mom wasn’t exactly in control when she was letting the vodka and the Vegas Strip rule her life.
As a seventeen-year-old girl with only her SATs to worry about, I thought that in life, everybody had a choice.
For the past three years, I’ve been choosing Otis, but that’s only because there were no other distractions in my life.
The real fun starts now.
Because as I lie back and let three dirty mouths plant kisses all over my body, I find myself growing out of that seventeen-year-old belief system.
Am I choosing this lifestyle, or am I letting it consume me, the same way Mom let male attention take over her life until she was too weak to change?
“I want you to scream my name this time when I fuck you,” Vex says.
Their voices are like music to my ears.
As the spiritual gurus say, there’s no time quite like the present.
I shove the spiraling thoughts away and bring myself back to the present moment. How am I supposed to walk away from this when all three of them are hot, naked, and desperate to get inside of me?
How am I supposed to walk away when the fantasies I’ve shared with my vibrator are suddenly real?
I don’t have to look up to know which one of them is inside of me. The girth speaks all for itself.
“Vex!” I gasp, already holding on to consciousness by a thread.
I’m between minds of begging him to go faster or telling him to slow it down so we can draw this out for as long as possible.
In here, reality doesn’t exist. I’m living in a bubble of dopamine that I don’t want to burst, even though I subconsciously know I need to, in order to get back to Otis.
But the annoying thing about human pleasure is that it makes you do selfish things.
I lie back and let him take me, his thrusts quickening. Carter and Skipper keep me pinned down so I don’t go flying. Vex ventures so deep that it’d hurt if I wasn’t so fucking turned on.
I’ll probably walk out of here with a bruised cervix and another child on the way, but all I can think about is how it’d be worth it.
Because once again—when a human is pursuing pleasure, it comes from a place of selfishness.
