“Fucking hell, angel.” Marcus’s voice is rough as sandpaper. “I’ve never seen anything as perfect as this. Touch yourself.”
My amputated arm is braced on Theo’s leg, and my fingers are still wrapped around his cock. I’ve never wished so much in my life that I still had my right hand as I do right now.
But Theo doesn’t miss a beat. Reaching down, he loosens my grip before fisting himself again, holding his cock steady as I continue to work him up and down between my lips. My hand is wet with a mixture of spit and precum as I drag it down my body, trailing between my breasts and down the line of my stomach before the pads of my fingers land on my clit.
Sensation explodes inside me at the first touch, my body so desperate for release that I’m almost shaking. My jaw aches a little from holding it open, my knees press uncomfortably against the hardwood floor, and I gag a little every time I deep throat Theo. But every one of those feelings takes a back seat to the pleasure racing through me.
My fingertips become a blur on my sensitive nub, flying over it in desperate, hard circles as my hips move restlessly.
When I come, I lose my rhythm entirely, nearly choking on Theo’s cock as my body bucks and writhes. Only his tight grip on my hair keeps me steady as sparks dance in my vision and a low groan spills from my throat.
There’s nowhere for the sound to go. It’s trapped by Theo’s cock, the vibrations traveling from my body into his.
He grunts, then tugs on my hair suddenly. When I release him with a wet slurp and look up into his eyes, there’s a wildness in them that sends a shiver of anticipation through me.
“Get up here, Rose,” he murmurs, his chest rising and falling fast. “I have to be inside you. I want to fucking fill you up when I come.”
He’s got a tattoo on his ribs, I notice—the only piece of ink I see on his body. I make out several letters, but I can’t decipher the words and am too distracted to try.
I rise unsteadily to my feet and am about to crawl back onto Theo’s lap when he stops me. When I blink down at him, he grins sinfully at me, then grasps my hips in his hands and turns me around.
“Marcus wants to see, remember?” he murmurs, his hands running up and down the outsides of my thighs. “So does Ryland. Let them see.”
A flush rises up my chest, heating my skin as I look at the other two men. They’re jerking themselves off as they watch us, and the expressions on their faces are… indescribable.
There’s heat—so much heat—but there’s something else too.
Something almost like awe.
Just as my gaze locks with Marcus’s, Theo wraps his hands around my hips again, tugging me backward to sit astride him. My legs fall open, draping over his and splaying me wide, and I feel another gush of wetness leak from me.
“Fuck, Ayla.” Ryland’s fist moves faster, his jaw clenching. “Jesus.”
He looks almost as undone as he did the night we fucked in the kitchen, just from watching me with his friend.
“Come here, sweetheart.”
Theo tugs me backward a little more so that my back drapes against his chest. Then he reaches down to line himself up with my entrance and rolls his hips, sliding inside me.
We both catch our breath as he fills me, stretching my walls with his thickness. He can’t get as deep from this angle as he’d be able to from some other position, but he’s big enough that it doesn’t fucking matter. I feel him everywhere.
I feel his piercing, hard and unyielding as it drags against my walls.
“God, that feels good,” I breathe as my head lolls on Theo’s shoulder. My back is arched a little, putting even more of me on display for these men. I’m laid out like a fucking banquet as Theo begins to thrust shallowly inside me, gripping my hips to get leverage as he moves.
This time, Marcus doesn’t even have to tell me what to do. I just came, but my body is starving for more, desperate for more. My fingers move down to my clit again, pressing delicately at the over-sensitive bundle of nerves. Marcus and Ryland both match my tempo as I begin to swirl my fingers, and the three of us fall into sync as Theo fucks me from behind.
“I’m not gonna last long, Rose,” he murmurs into my ear, pressing a sloppy kiss to my hair and the side of my face. “I can’t. You feel too fucking good, and I’ve wanted this for too fucking long. I’ll fuck you slow next time, but right now, I just need to come inside you. I need to feel you take my cum. I need to make you mine.”
You’ve taken my cock. You’ve taken my cum. You’re fucking mine.
His words are an unconscious echo of what Marcus said to me once, and they make my toes curl as I grind my ass against his hips, clenching around him as I try to drag his cock in deeper.
I am his.
I belong to this man as much as I belong to Marcus.
As much as I belong to Ryland.
As much as I belong to myself.
Our beginnings were born of violence and pain, but maybe that’s why the bonds between us feel so unbreakable, so unquestionable.
They were forged in flame.
I make a noise that’s half groan and half whimper, squirming against him as another orgasm builds steadily inside me, threatening a hurricane of pleasure as warmth spreads through my limbs all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes.
Since words are impossible at the moment, I just turn my head and capture his lips in a kiss, fingers strumming
