Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
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H aley
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M y world spins upside down. As Camden carries me over his shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Wesley and Dean clearing the dinner table. Camden lays me down on my back on the purple tablecloth littered with mini orange dicks.
“What are you doing?” I cry, trying to get off the table and out of their grasp. Again. My body can’t handle this strange, deviant hold they have on it much longer. I’m disintegrating more and more with every touch. I’m also trying to grab enough of the tablecloth to cover my nakedness and failing. They see every part of me unhindered.
“If you wanted to come, all you had to do was ask, princess,” Camden says, then drags me down the table and parts my legs.
“What? I never said that. Are you a crazy person?” I yell, fighting to close my legs and again not succeeding at all.
“I would rather eat coal, thank you very much. I do not, under any circumstances, want to—"
I choke on my own words as my legs are spread further apart. The cool breeze around me amplifies how hot and wet I really am.
“So fucking beautiful,” Camden says, and then they take turns opening their mouths on my pussy.
Shocking bolts of lightning jolt me off my axis. The touch is so tremendously intimate it feels downright wicked.
“You can’t do that,” I snap, my voice high-pitched and uneven. “That should be—”
They suck up the arousal dripping from my center, growling in what I think sounds like appreciation as their tongues lap up the liquid fire coursing through me and making landfall between my legs.
“Illegal,” I say with magnificent effort, but now I don’t even sound like myself.
What is even happening right now? They deepen their oral exploration. In between indulging in the most secret part of me, they use their fingers to stroke my clit, caress my folds, and dip into my center, testing the depth of the well of my arousal that grows more and more with each touch.
Disbelief surpasses every other thought I’ve been capable of garnering until my brain completely glitches, leaving me unable to express the crazy momentous thing they’re doing to me.
The latching of their mouths to my pussy sends searing electricity surging through my veins, utterly blinding me.
“This can’t be right,” I screech hoarsely, stunned at the intimate sensation wreaking havoc through me. I lift my head off the table, trying my darndest to squirm away from them, but they’ve taken turns to pin me down with their tongues on my clit, my labia, and between my drenched folds.
Oh my god.
They don’t let up, sampling the innermost part of my body in the most salacious way imaginable. My defenses crumble, my grip on reality falters, and a mind-altering, mammoth orgasm usurps my entire body. I can’t catch my breath. I can’t douse the blaze of tremors wrecking every part of me.
“Oh god. What... how? This is so bad, so, so bad,” I say, tossing my head from side to side as Dean suckles on my throbbing clit, lulling me into more lascivious pleasure before he nips me, and I forget my name.
Wesley runs his tongue down my seam before easing a finger into my core, just deep enough for me to acknowledge his presence inside me, making me clench down so hard on him I wonder if I might break his finger in half.
Camden lays hot, wet, biting kisses on my mons, leaving an array of hickeys that lead straight to my clit. I know this because I lift myself up on my elbows and see the trail of red marks from him sucking on my mound.
I drop my head back down on the table, quivering uncontrollably now, unsure if I came again or am still climaxing from my previous orgasm.
I’m astonished that they’re touching me this way with their mouths. Worse, there’s a fullness inside me on the brink of breaking loose. I can’t come again. That would be terrible. So, so terrible.
“This...this... must be... just... sin,” I say, grappling for that last word. Nothing that feels like this can be good, surely.
“You want us to stop sucking this gorgeous pussy of yours?” Wesley asks.
“Stop taking your clit into our mouths and playing with you? Stop doing this?” Camden dips the tip of his tongue into my center, curls his tongue into my wetness, and swallows my essence.
“Tell us if you want us to stop, princess,” Dean adds softly, his words vibrating against my folds as fresh wetness pools at the entrance of my pussy.
No. They weren’t supposed to ask me that question. Conflicted, I say the first thing that comes to my mind.
“I plead the fifth,” I rasp, although I sound as if I’d growled out the words.
I slap my hand over my mouth, horrified at myself for divulging the direct opposite of what I meant to say. Pleading the fifth in this case is almost like saying, No, don’t stop.
“So you don’t want to tell us to stop, but you also don’t want us to stop?” Camden asks, and I hear the grin in his voice.
“Yes.” I’m both nodding and shaking my head at the same time. What am I doing?
Their chuckles are the last thing I register before everything I thought I knew about my body turns out to be untrue.
Their hot, wet onslaught on my pussy intensifies. Wesley’s touch is dark and commanding, leaving me whimpering shamelessly as he grips my clit with his teeth, increasing the pressure while he brushes his knuckles down my seam and lower to my bottom hole until I cry out in astonishment as I come yet again.
Dean’s touch is so soft and gentle that it drives me insane. I lift my hips and gracelessly grind my pussy into his face. And that’s when he opens his whole mouth on me and forces me to come apart on his tongue. How much wetter can I get?
Camden teases me mercilessly. Not only with his tongue and fingers, but he also snatches a strawberry and brushes it against my seeping core before using it on my clit.
What? Oh my god, what?
I drown out the coolness of the fruit, pushing myself against it while Camden taunts me with it. God, he’s using a fruit on my pussy, and I have no shame to stop him. Defeated, I allow my body to give in, and the climax that ricochets out of me leaves me mindless, boneless, otherworldly.
But they don’t stop.
I lose track of time. My body knows only two things: to accept their touch and give them my orgasms.
They use me like a platter, and I serve them whatever they want. They melt ice over my breasts before engulfing my swollen nipples in their hot mouths and sucking.
When they ask me what was for dessert and I tell them store-bought ice cream because the chef I hired was not really a chef, they cover my breasts and torso in vanilla soft serve and lick every drop off me while their fingers and thumbs brush my clit and part my folds, eliciting a stream of unending, riveting orgasms.
At this point, all my nerves have joined a circus as trapeze artists. I’ve come so many times—something I didn’t think my body was ever capable of doing—that I’ve lost count.
Also, this wasn’t supposed to happen.