When a fourth man dropped to his knees before her, shouldering open her legs with more dominance than any of the others had up until that point, dipping his head immediately, she didn't realize who he was. His tongue was hot and wet, and he groaned against her as he licked a broad stripe up to her clit, puckering his lips around it and sucking hard. Thrice more he repeated the action, and it very nearly felt good — nearly felt divine — but there was an edge of pain to the way he sucked her, one she did not think was accidental. It made her slightly uncomfortable, and that was enough to make her push on his shoulder. It was the werewolf who’d opened the door for them, the blonde she-wolf's husband, the one Ainsley claimed had been trailing them. The blonde herself was only a few feet away, making her way to take her place behind the blue-skinned girls. Another lick, another suck, just on the edge of feeling good; her head dropped back prepared to quiver in pleasure . . . when once more, he sucked hard enough to make it hurt, and she winced.
"That's enough," she bit out, remembering that they didn't owe these people anything. The man didn't immediately release his grip on her thighs, but before she even had a chance to repeat her rescission of consent, Ainsley had hooked his hands under her arms from behind, lifting her like a doll, out of reach of the werewolf.
"She said enough." His voice was harder than she'd ever heard it, brokering no discussion, and she was reminded that he was, in fact, an orc. He had already tucked himself away as best he could and disentangled himself from the fin-eared duo, swinging her into his arms easily, as he'd done that night at the pub. She thought perhaps in other company she would've wanted to leave; would have wanted to leave straight away, putting the entire evening behind her, but instead, her blood thrilled in excitement — the pleasure that had been sparked by the Sylvan man's tongue was yet unsated, the knowledge that Ainsley was rock hard in his jeans was not something she could ignore, that hard note of command in his voice making her knees shake. Best of all — she had spotted a long bank of mirrors against the upstairs hallway, not something to which she had paid attention during their earlier tour, too aggravated by the she-wolf's attentions and lack of decorum. Ris had never felt so much like Silva as she did at that moment, even thinking such a thing . . . but it was true.
"I want to go upstairs," she murmured into his ear, scraping her teeth against his throat as he carried her away from the wolf couple. "I want to go upstairs and suck you off."
"That's a coincidence," he gritted, "because I want to bend you over one of these tables and empty my balls into you. I suppose we'll have to meet in the middle." She squealed when he hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, rubbing a hand over her bare ass as he ascended the steps two at a time, dodging around the figures loitering there.
One of the backless chaise lounges suited her purposes as she dragged the corner of it to be perpendicular to the mirror, pushing him down to the tufted upholstery. Ris wasted no time dropping to her knees, pulling the solid rod of his cock out once more. He had swelled under the ministrations of the several different women who had been sucking and stroking him, the thick bar of flesh standing rigid, so swollen from the leather cockring it was nearly purple. His sac was just as swollen as his shaft, his testicles pulled painfully tight, hot in her hands as she cupped them, pulsing them lightly.
He groaned at the first stroke of her tongue against his glans, chuckling deeply when she sucked him into her mouth. The sound was intimately familiar, soimpossiblysafe and comfortable, even after such a short amount of time, and she shivered, her stomach flip-flopping. Turning her head to the glass against the wall, she watched the Ris in the mirror sucking that Ainsley's cock, appreciated the way he thrust slightly, and wondered if her mirror twin was able to taste the pre-cum he was seeping. She wondered ifthatAinsley was able to feel the drag of her nails up the seam of his fat, swollen scrotum; if he enjoyed the pull against his foreskin as much as the Ainsley before her did.
The Sylvan had followed them, she realized, edging in behind her, and she met his glossy dark eyes in the mirror, nodding her consent before he even needed to ask the question, raising her ass high in the air as her head dipped, swallowing Ainsley’s cock again. When the smaller man's tongue pressed into her from behind, licking into her determinedly, she moaned, the vibrations moving up Ainsley's shaft until he fisted her hair. It occurred to her, as she hummed, that it wasthisscenario she had been expecting at the orc resort. Sensual and pleasurable for all parties involved.If only we didn’t have an audience.
She watched the way her mirror twin pushed back against the Sylvan man's face as she came up for air, watched her mouth drop open as his tongue lapped at her clit. She had just curled her tongue around the weeping tip, about to swallow him again when Ainsley pulled her to her feet abruptly, spinning her around. She gasped when he breached her, the thick press of his head catching at her lips, pushing in and stretching her pussy wide. He pulled her slowly down the thick length of his cock until she was straddling his legs on his lap, her thighs stretched open.
"Make her come." His words were directed at the Sylvan man, she realized, squeaking when he pulled the edge of the chaise, tilting them so that she would be able to see the man kneeling between her legs. "I want you to lick her clit until she comes around my cock."
There wereso manypeople watching them, Ris realized. A whole ring of onlookers, slowly jerking off as they watched her stretched over Ainsley’s lap, pussy on display. On display, at least until the Sylvan man lowered his face to her once more, and began to lick. She reached a hand back to scratch at Ainsley's chest as the long-eared man flicked his tongue back and forth against her, catching at the spikes through his nipples and tugging. Ris had the thought that she would be enjoying herself tenfold more if they were alone. Alone in her condo, or alone in his apartment, no witnesses to the way she was stuffed by him. She wondered if the other man's chin was bumping the root of Ainsley's cock as he ate her, watching as mirror Ris pushed her fingers through the man's head, holding him in place when he landed on the spot that made stars burst behind her eyes, watching mirror Ainsley cup her small breasts and scrape his teeth against her shoulder.Don't pay attention to them, she told herself, forcing her thoughts away from the bystanders, closing her eyes.None of them are real.
"Are you going to squeeze my cock, Nanaya? Are you going to give this cockring a run for its money?"
Ris knew she was not going to last long. The Sylvan had fastened his lips around her clit, his tongue fluttering around her as he sucked, the fullness of Ainsley's cock leaving her breathless in the exhilaration, and the sight of herself as the long-eared men began to nod his head up and down as he sucked, his tongue catching the side of her clitoral hood as he did so, and Ainsley had begun to thrust himself upwards into her, the barest hint of movement, but just enough to remind her of how big he was and how amazing he felt. She felt the tremors begin around her knees, shaking up her legs and tightening her thighs.
Her clit felt like a live wire, and every sucking pulse sent electricity shooting through her veins; her hands tightening in the young man's hair, squeezing as she held him in place, throbbing against his tongue. Ainsley groaned against her temple, arms encircling her.
"Just like that, Nanaya. You're going to milk it right out of me."
She cried out in disappointment when he pulled out of her, wanting to do exactly as he suggested. Once again, she became all too aware of the onlookers, the throng of men frantically beating off, watching her orgasm; or else being sucked off by willing partners. She didn't know what he was planning on doing next, not until he produced a foil-wrapped condom which she quickly took from his hands, ripping it open, and rolling it down his swollen shaft.
"Let me get a few good grinds in," he groaned against her neck, pushing to his feet. He walked her to the staircase banister, kicking her feet open as she braced her hands against it, testing its strength. "Otherwise I'm going to look like a two-pump chump in front of these weirdos. Let me at least build a bit of a rhythm before you open the dam." She laughed in spite of herself. She disliked being a spectacle this way, would have enjoyed having him and the Sylvan young man together in a quiet hotel room perhaps, might have even welcomed the kitsune, but this ring of overly horny onlookers left her cold. Even still, there was no one else she’d rather be here with. Ainsley began to pump into her with a slow, steady rhythm, like the rocking of the boat, pulling her back to meet him, his speed slowly increasing until he slammed into her with a steady slap, skin on skin, the sound of carnality. It took a bit of maneuvering, but she was able to reach her hand down to where their bodies were joined, giving his balls a squeeze before she found the end of the leather strap, setting them free. His arm came around her, fingers seeking her heat, knowing exactly what she liked and what it would take to bring her over the edge again. It was unnecessary, for she still felt touch over sensitized from the Sylvan's mouth, but she appreciated his consideration and knew he liked the clench of her. She was still tingling, still sensitive, and he knew right where to press. Quick, tight circles, an upward pull, just the right angle . . . It was a shallow, weak orgasm, but her core still tightened and her muscles still clenched around him, her head lolling. She realized he had been holding himself back, for as soon as she slumped against the banister, he was pulling her tightly against him, his hips jerking as he groaned in her hair. The condom kept her from feeling his heat, but she was able to feel the pressure of being filled, his full balls emptying themselves in rhythmic convulsions, spurt after spurt, until he slumped.
Her head felt impossibly heavy, and the only thing she wanted to do then was curl up beside him beneath the cool sheets in his giant bed, or snuggle against his chest as he attempted to fit in her much smaller one. Instead, she realized, panting, they were still in this ugly house, surrounded by these too eager people and their slightly creepy hosts.
Glancing down the banister that she’d gripped for support, Ris made eye contact with the other half of their host couple, at the same time that Ainsley withdrew himself from her, pulling out carefully. She didn’t know what face she’d made at the backward drag and sudden sensation of emptiness, but the werewolf smiled, holding her eye for an interminable moment before his head dropped back, mouth opening in ecstasy as he gripped the hair of the woman kneeling before him.
"Are you alright?" Ainsley’s voice was a low purr at her ear, his hand spanning across the bare skin of her stomach beneath her tank. Ris considered the question.Wasshe alright? The public hedonism of the nudist resort was an experience she was glad she’d had, but ultimately not one she was eager to repeat. Was this any different? His breath was hot at her neck, tusks grazing her skin as he pressed his lips to the skin behind her ear. "Ris?" he prodded, soft enough for her ears alone. "I need to hear your words."
"Yes," she answered, turning her head and meeting his mouth. Cinnamon gum and whiskey, tobacco and clove. Familiar and safe. She didn't want to do this again, but she was glad she'd tried it with him. "Yes," she repeated, happy that she meant it. "I’m good."
"Good . . . can we please leave?"
"Please. Right now. I think I saw someone in a tuxedo, it’s probably time to put you on the spit."
His hand was tight around hers as they maneuvered down the staircase, once their clothing was restored. He pivoted their positions on the landing, placing himself fully between her and the sharp-eyed werewolf, pulling her quickly down the staircase to follow. She squealed when the icy air hit her bare arms at the front door, but they never slowed, and his fingers stayed tightly knitted with hers until his car came into view.
"I was a woodland scout," he chuckled, pulling two pepwaters from a bag on the backseat, along with a bag of restaurant-style chips. "Always prepared. I’m also starving. I didn’t pack the guac though, sorry."
For several long minutes, the only sound was the hum of the engine and their chewing, the heat blasting from the registers warming her skin as the lights of downtown Starling Heights neared. The silence, like everything else about him — like every moment spent in his company — was comfortable.
"So . . . I think I hated that."
"Oh, thank the stars." His head dropped back with his exclamation. "It was terrible, right? Those people were creepy predators, please tell me that wasn’t all in my head."
"They were! They didn’t respect boundaries at all."
"I’m not going to pretend I didn’t like watching you with that Sylvan guy—"
