The cool froth of beer landed on my ass as he poured the last bit of his drink on me. He rubbed his finger against me before pushing it inside. I gasped, tightening around Shotgun’s cock and making him groan. Sonny spit behind me and before I could tell him no, he pushed the neck of the bottle into my ass. My body tensed at the intrusive feeling of the cold, smooth glass, and I bit back the moment of discomfort as I stretched around it. He groaned and worked the bottle in and out of me as Shotgun continued to thrust beneath me. I felt full, but I wished it was Sonny’s cock instead of a bottle.
Sonny spit again and began to rub his cock with slow and sensual strokes, and the way his hand wrapped around himself made me hungry for him. “You’ll take anything we can give you, huh?” he asked as he pushed the neck of the bottle inside me with his crotch. He fisted my hair as if he were fucking me with his cock instead of glass. The smell of beer wafted up to me.
“You could use your cock,” I whispered. I'd rather feel the familiarity of that than the bottle.
He smirked. “Oh no, I’m saving that because I’m going to fuck your tight cunt again. You’ll wait for it like a good whore.” His words made me twitch between my legs.
“I wanna come on your pretty face,” Shotgun moaned.
Sonny pulled the bottle out of me and set it on the table. He helped me to my feet, tugging me off Shotgun’s lap and pushing me to my knees by my shoulders. Hedrew the hair from my face and craned my neck, forcing me to look up at Shotgun as he stood. Shotgun held the base of himself to keep from coming before my mouth opened for him. My lips parted with eager anticipation, and he painted my tongue with his come, finishing with a final flick onto my cheeks. I licked my lips, tasting the salty remnants of pleasure as I looked up at Sonny.
“Wipe that shit off your face,” he said with a rough voice as he released his grasp on my hair. I grabbed my shirt from the floor and cleaned my face as he commanded. He lifted me to my feet and grabbed my arm, dragging me toward the pool table. He picked me up and set me on the rail, and I held myself up with my hands as I leaned back and spread my legs. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for,” he said as he tugged me closer to the edge and let his warm cock rest against my pussy.
Sonny wrapped a hand around the back of my neck, dragged himself against me as he drew his hips back, and pushed himself inside me once more. He leaned over me, his breath hot in my face as he gripped the back of my head and started slamming into me. The pool table creaked with every thrust.
“Open wider for me,” he growled.
I was open as wide as I could get for him, but he spread my legs further and moved his hand to the front of my neck with a rough grip. His other hand slid behind me and squeezed my ass, pulling me against him. I felt his touch everywhere. It was too much, bringing me close to the edge all over again. My pussy was stretched and used and so sore, yet I still wanted more of Sonny.
“I’m going to fill you up,” his groan wasgravelly and thick as he pulled my hips against his, giving me no choice but to take his come. His thrusts slowed and he kissed me, releasing a satiated moan against my mouth. “Such a perfect whore,” he whispered as he pulled away from the kiss, his cock still throbbing inside me.
My fingers slowed, my heartbeat calmed, and I dropped the book in my lap. I came so many times I lost count. I rubbed my hands over my breasts, enjoying the feel of my sensitive flesh. The front door slammed, making me jump, and the book fell to the floor with an ominous thud. I rushed out of bed, snatched my pants from the floor, and pulled them on. The door cracked open. Michael stood there with his tie undone and bags under his eyes. He looked tired.
“What are you doing in here?” he asked, lifting his eyebrow as his head swiveled around to check the room.
“Just getting dressed. I’ll be right out.”
“Okay.” He looked at me like I was having an affair. I would never.
Not in real life, at least.
Chapter Four
“This has been the longest week ever,” I said with a groan as I sat at the table. I lived for the weekends. To do absolutely nothing andnotbe around people. “Are you sure you have to work tomorrow?” I asked with a pout of my lips. I knew the answer.
He slid a heaping plate of ziti in front of me and cocked his head. “You know I do. You act like Iwantto be away from you on the weekends.”
“I know. I know.” I looked at the clock behind him on the stove as I lifted my fork and stabbed at the sauce-covered pasta. I normally loved ziti, but my stomach was tense and I had no appetite for the meal he’d slaved over. I forced down as much as I could. “I’m going to go read in the bedroom for a little while, I think. Maybe it will ease my headache.”
“That seems like it would do the opposite,” he said with furrowed brows.
What I planned to do would definitely help with the headache. I brushed what was left of myuneaten food into the garbage and put my plate in the sink. Heading toward the back of the house, I passed the framed pictures decorating the hallway. Our wedding photo greeted me the moment I walked into the bedroom. It never failed to make me smile because of the expressions of pure contentment on our faces.
I grabbed a book off the table, lay in the bed, and pulled the soft, warm comforter over me. I curled up on my side and let my head hit the pillow as I studied the book’s cover. It featured a man bathed in shadows. The light only illuminated his tough, handsome face beneath the hood of his open jacket. Tattoos crossed his bare chest. He looked menacing, but not in the same way the biker had. This image captured the essence of one-sided infatuation. Frustration. Jealousy. Possessiveness.
I opened the book and started reading. The crisp new pages turned faster than any of the others I’d read so far. Consent didn’t matter in this world. It hardly existed.
I rested my hand beneath the waistband of my pants, ready for what was to come.
I got out of my car and walked the half block toward my house. No one peppered the sidewalks this late in the evening, not like the morning rush when children and parents preparing for school and people heading to their day jobs waited everywhere I turned. I hated walking in the dark, but I’d stayed too late at the office—yet again—which meant there were no parking spots on the road. Snow fell in thick flakes, sticking to everything aroundme. I shivered and stepped over the pile of snow covering the sidewalk as the night air blanketed me. My unfortunate heel found the hidden patch of ice on the other side, and I flailed my arms with a yelp. Just as I had accepted my fate and started to fall, strong arms wrapped around me.
“Whoa there. It’s icy,” the man said with a sweet smile. Flakes of snow landed in his dark hair, and haunted lines surrounded his rich amber eyes.
I blinked up at him, thankful he’d caught me but uneasy because I hadn’t noticed him before now. “I guess it is,” I said with a flush of heat rising into my cheeks despite the bitter temperature.
He steadied me, his grasp clinging to my hips a moment too long. His rough hand hovered over mine. “Don’t you live in the blue house? The one with the big—”
“The magnolia tree. That’s the only way people know my house. Forget all the money I spent on the rest of the landscaping.”
