He brings his hand up and staring right at me, he palms my breast through my top.
A soft gasp leaves my lips and I arch my ass into Faust as I push my chest further into Sylvan’s big hand.
He laughs, like he’s amused, then he pinches my nipplehard.
I suck in a breath, my fingers curling into fists, but I don’t stop him.
He jerks up, like he’s tugging me along, and I rise on my tiptoes in my heels, like that will ease the pain.
He watches my eyes, mocking me. “Such a good toy,” he whispers.
“I’m not your fucking toy?—”
He squeezes as hard as he can and I double over, causing Faust to grab Sylvan’s wrist and force him off me. I don’t think I wanted that, though. No one has touched like Sylvan has, and Ilikeit.
But Faust jerked him closer, and now both boys are a breath away, over my shoulder.
“You don’t like when I hurt your plaything, Captain?” Sylvan murmurs softly, his eyes dipping down to Faust’s mouth.
Faust doesn’t speak, but he doesn’t let go of Sylvan, and he doesn’t move his hand from my hip.
Between them, I feel like I’m on fire.
“We could take turns. Put her legs behind her head and each fuck both holes before we switch off.”
Oh, fuck.
I feel dizzy.
Humiliated.
But I don’t hate it.
“Where did you learn shit like that?” Faust snarls.
Sylvan brushes his lips over Faust’s, and Faust doesn’t pull away. “You don’t know me. You have no idea where I come from.”
And I can’t resist. “Wherever it is, you learned to be a really sore loser, huh, baby Connor?”
Sylvan pulls back, then his hand is at my throat, knocking my skull back into Faust’s chest.
He’s not holding tight enough to leave a mark or stop my breath, but the motion has me gasping all the same.
“Where I come from, girls like you would’ve learned to respect their betters at this big age.”
Anger flares inside me. I breathe in, then, for the second time, I spit on his pretty boy face.
It lands on his cheek, his fingers flexing against my throat, and without warning, only flashing his teeth in a heartbeat of a smile, he leans in, and his mouth crashes into mine.
For a pulse, I don’t react.
His mouth is cold, probably from his drink, and the taste of whiskey and mint explodes on my tongue as I part for him.
The sensation I notice first is the way Faust’s fingers tighten on my hip.
How, involuntarily, I press further against him, and I can feel his erection on my spine.
But my fingers come to Sylvan’s chest, clawing against his shirt as I jerk him closer, and finally, I’m in control enough to kiss back.
