Devin swore himself as he buried himself to the hilt, his hips coming flush with mine. Then with a hard thrust and those strong arms working together, he started to shift me into a new position.
My arms were still tied, but with impressive strength and dexterity, Devin shifted so that I was straddling his lap, and my breasts were pressing into his hard chest.
With my arms stretched straight out behind me and my legs turned to jelly, I was completely unable to get any leverage myself.
All hopes of me somehow proving myself as a sexual goddess, moving my hips in a way that would drive this man as mad as he’d driven me, were dashed.
Instead, Devin was fucking up into me, matching each hard pump into my body with a sexy, throaty grunt. I wasn’t tiny, couldn’t be terribly light, but he barely broke a sweat as he kissed me hard and started to use his big hands to guide my hips, too.
“Soon, angel, I’ll teach you how to really ride my cock. How to chase your own pleasure. But for now, let me handle it. You’re so fuckingsweet.”
I was lost to the rhythm, the indescribable pleasure of Devin filling me up, stretching me to my limits, fucking me hard enough that I forgot everything but my need to come again.
“Come all over my cock, baby girl,” Devin growled as he picked up the pace.
He was slamming my hips down onto his lap now, reaching depths inside me I didn’t think were possible, much less so delicious.
And then his broad thumb was sliding its way toward my front, finding the perfect spot at the hood of my clit to send me completely over the edge.
With another few thrusts, some hard circles against my sensitive bud, and some breathy pleas I barely recognized as my own, I was coming apart in Devin’s arms.
With this final orgasm, I’d hit my limit, at least for tonight. After the perfect tensing, the involuntary jerks, the hard clench of my inner walls urging the perfect cock inside me to finish, too, I practically collapsed.
Limp, sated, and perfectly tired, I slung my released arms around Devin’s neck and gave myself permission to just be.
He swore again as he slid free from my now-aching pussy, and with a few rough thrusts against the cleft of my ass, he finally came, spurting hot and crude andperfectover it.
All the while, he told me, “Fuck, baby girl, just wait until I have time to worship that pert little ass. You’ve got so much left to learn. From all of us.”
In the afterglow, I was vaguely aware of the three men cleaning me up. Wiping their seed off me in three different places with warm, wet washcloths.
Finally removing the heels from my feet—and massaging them for good measure, which had me moaning from a different sort of pleasure.
And before they eventually left me in the large bed alone, closing the door behind them as they quit the room, I was starting to realize all the references they’d made towhen. More.Future trysts, more planned pleasure that made my body thrum back to life a little, but not enough to keep me from curling up in the silken-soft sheets and yawning.
Maybe someone smarter than me would be afraid of the prospect of more. Someone more suited to this kind of adventure would know to demand her money and her freedom from the presence of the three sexiest men alive, no matter how thoroughly they’d rocked her world.
Wildly, instead of worrying about how and when I’d get to leave and never see the three of them again, I found myself wishing I had their bodies with me in this bed as I fought sleep.
They didn’t seem like cuddling types, of course.
But damn, they’d been so warm. It felt chilly in the bed without them. And maybe part of me was afraid that without the proof of their skin against mine, I’d forget that the three men—daddies—were even real.
I officially wasn’t a virgin anymore.
As much as I’d always tried to tell myself, even as I craved closeness and pleasure and sex, that I’d be the same me with or without my v-card, I definitely didn’t feel like the girl who’d gotten in the limo all those hours before.
6
JONATHAN
The shit was preparing to hit the fan, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.
The Butera family headquarters, essentially my dad’s evil villain lair, was the definition of opulence twisted with a sinister edge.
Dark marble floors gleamed under the warm glow of antique chandeliers, casting long, sharp shadows across the room.
The air smelled like expensive cigars and something darker, a memory of blood that had been spilled and cleaned up never quite forgotten.
