Hands grip my hair, rough, controlling. My head is tilted back, and I’m fucked into. Not gently. My throat is used, my mouth filled completely.
Then it’s gone. Replaced by another.
I’ve lost track. I don’t know whose cock is in my mouth anymore. I don’t care. I just suck, desperate, aching, needing them to give mesomething?—
But they don’t.
Every time I get one of them close, they pull out. Leave me kneeling there, mouth open, drool on my chin, thighs clenched together trying to get some friction, any friction?—
A hand grabs my shoulder, yanking me upright.
“Look at her,” Rogue says, amused. “Can’t even help herself.”
I’m trying to rub my thighs together, desperate for pressure. My hands fly down between my legs?—
Strong hands grab my wrists, yanking them behind myback. Sting holds them there, one-handed, his grip like iron.
“No,” he says firmly.
“Please—”
“Spread your legs,” Armen orders.
I shake my head, tears streaming. “I can’t?—”
A boot nudges my ankle. Then kicks it. Hard.
My legs spread involuntarily.
“Wider.”
Another kick.
I spread them wider, sobbing now, my clit throbbing, every nerve ending on fire.
“You don’t get to come,” Armen says, voice cold and final. “Not tonight.”
“Please—”
“No.”
Sting releases my wrists. I collapse forward, catching myself on my hands and knees, gasping for air.
All three of them stand over me. Still hard. Still in control.
And I’m wrecked.
“You come when we say you can come,” Armen says.
“And right now,” Sting adds, “we say no.”
Rogue crouches beside me, tilting my chin up so I’m forced to meet his eyes. “Sweet dreams, Vi.”
Then they’re gone. The door closes behind them. The lock clicks.
I stay on the floor for a long time, legs shaking, thighs slick, every part of me aching for relief I didn’t get. I try to touch myself, fingers sliding between my legs, but I’m tooexhausted. Too wrecked. My hand falls away before I can finish.
I crawl onto the couch, curling into myself, and close my eyes.
