1. 2
“You’ve been doin’ an awful lot of staring,” he chuckles.
The country accent melts me in seconds.
I tilt my head. “I could say the same for you, mister.”
“I like what you’re wearing.” He scans my body, pink lips lifting into a smile.
What I’m wearing isn’t anything exciting.
There was no strict dress code for the party, but when one thinks masquerade , the mind automatically shifts to that one scene in The Vampire Diaries . Formal dresses. Suits and ties. Clothes that promote a sense of allure. That’s what the majority of people have turned up in.
I’m wearing denim shorts and sneakers, because what’s the point of getting glammed up when people already know who you are? You can look beautiful and wear the best dresses, but at the end of the day, this is a party and we’re all getting fucked up. Heels will be removed by the end of the night. You might as well be drunk and comfortable.
I stare at the bikers. My stomach twists and I don’t know why.
Seeing other girls gawp at them worsens my state. It’s like I’ve already branded them mine, and other girls have no right to them. They’re on my beer pong team.
Not like I’m an active participant.
They could be married.
“Are you married?”
“No.” One of them shakes their head. “None of us are.”
They each display their hands. Wow, so calloused.
And bingo, no rings.
I can’t help but notice this guy’s hair. It’s long, and skirts around his ears. A gold chain dangles from his neck holding a pendant shaped like a horse. At least, I think that’s what it is. White Claw and beer don’t mix well.
Not in my head, anyway.
One of his friends asks, “What are you two talking about?”
“I was saying…” I actually don’t know what I was saying, but I’m just gonna roll with it. “How much I wanna fuck you…”
Sober brain catches up with me, but it’s too late.
There are two things you can’t get back in life.
One: Time.
Two: Words when they’ve been spoken.
Country boy readjusts his mask as if to make sure it’s over his eyes. “That’s very forward, sweetheart.”
I shrug. “Well, that’s me.”
“How drunk are you?” asks another. This one has blue eyes.
Very blue eyes.
“Tipsy, but still able to consent to sexual activity if that’s what you mean.” I take a step closer and almost lose it when I smell their minty cologne. “I want all of you. Come on. Let’s address the elephant in the room. We’ve been having eye sex all night. We might as well cut to the chase.”
I lower my eyes, and that’s when I see it.
Let’s just say that leather pants don’t leave much to the imagination.
“Are you hard?”
Country boy grunts.
So does the taller one. “Be careful, gorgeous. My friend here doesn’t have much restraint.”
“None of us do,” chips in blue eyes.
“Especially,” continues Godzilla, “when it comes to a girl like you. Look at you.” His eyes scroll up and down my body, and that alone increases my desire for them. “You’re so gorgeous.”
“You can’t even see me.”
“I just know.”
“Yeah,” says blue eyes. “My friend here has good intuition.”
“Tell me your names.”
“Like we said before—” Country boy closes the space between us, and I feel his length press against my stomach. “It’s a masquerade. We can’t.”
Is it the masquerade rules preventing them from revealing their identity, or something else? Maybe they’re criminals, and pose high risks to the safety of Vegas.
Maybe they’re wanted by the police.
Maybe all three of their names are pinned on the noticeboard.
Maybe police are currently searching for them, and they’re here because this is a good place to hide.
It should terrify the average person. When three mysterious bikers attend a party and are adamant on staying anonymous, you should take that as a red flag and run in the opposite direction.
Trouble is, my pussy burns so much for them.
I extend my arm and stroke a finger up and down country boy’s dick.
Another grunt.
“Princess,” says Godzilla. “I’m serious. Don’t torment us.”
“But what if I want you all to fuck me?” Somehow, even though all three of them stand like pillars, I manage to push past them and make it to the corridor. I turn around. Waggle my eyebrows. “Are you coming?”
They will be.
I’ve had my fair share of hookups, but adrenaline has never thumped through my bloodstream like this before. It feels like a race. A need. Stronger than the two-day hunger I experienced when Father once forgot to buy groceries.
I sit on the bed and pat the space next to me for them to join.
“Are you sure about this, sweetheart?” presses the blue-eyed one. “Once we start, we won’t be able to stop.”
“Have you ever had group sex before?” the tall one asks.
I shake my head.
“Innocent,” country boy says to the others.
“No,” I snap. “I’m not innocent.”
I lie down on the bed and tease a hand between my legs.
“Let us take care of you,” says the tall one. “You look stressed.”
He lowers onto the bed and rides the hem of my top up over my head. The blue-eyed one snakes a hand up my back to undo my bra.
And that’s when it hits me—I’m topless in front of all of them.
But it doesn’t stop there.
Country boy shimmies down my shorts and peels away my panties. Then he strokes a finger between the folds of my pussy.
Sex has never felt this riveting before, and we’re not even to the main event yet. Maybe it’s because they’re older. Maybe it’s because there are three of them and it makes a crowd.
Maybe it’s all of that plus the aspect of danger.
I don’t know who they are. They’re not boys I walk past in the corridor everyday.
They’re masked strangers who are secretive about their identities.
And that is so fucking hot.
I spread my legs, and six eyes stare down at my pussy.
“Oh wow, look at you.” Country boy’s finger strokes between my folds. “She’s nice and wet for us too. God, darlin’, I could just bend you over and slip right in.”
“Patience, my friend,” says Godzilla. “A woman this beautiful deserves our full, patient attention.” He grabs me by the hips and slides me further up the bed. “Hold up her legs so she doesn’t have to do it herself.”
Jesus fucking Christ. That does it. Those words in that voice.
All I wanted was a quick fuck.
But I’m getting more for my money here.
Godzilla buries his face between my thighs and flutters his tongue over my clit. Then he’s licking a stripe down my center, dipping two fingers into my slit.
“How does this feel, gorgeous?”
“Good,” is the only word I can manage. The action renders me speechless, and arousal burns in areas of my body I didn’t even know were capable of feeling desire.
It’s the first time a boy has gone down on me, but these aren’t boys.
They’re men.
And I think that’s why I’m on the verge of cardiac arrest.
It feels like my first step into adulthood.
The other two clamp their hands around my ankles and keep my legs spread like it’s the only thing that matters. I’ll probably have bruises there tomorrow, but that won’t matter. Father won’t question it, just like he doesn’t question anything unless it has something to do with business.
My pulse beats thick in my throat.
If Godzilla continues French-kissing my pussy like this, I’ll be coming before any of them have time to stick it in.
Which is not what I want.
Especially when my eyes land on their dicks.
They’re huge.
“Oh god.”
“What is it, sweetheart?” blue eyes asks.
“You’re just so…BIG.”
The tall one gives a throaty chuckle.
“I’ve never had this big before,” I admit. “I don’t think they’ll fit.”
Blue eyes palms my mound. “Don’t worry about that, darling. Feel here.” He guides my hand to touch myself. “Feel how wet you are. We’ll slip in, no problem.”
The novelty isn’t wearing off. “I just… god. You’re all massive.”
Another throaty chuckle from the group’s tallest. “We’re not gonna get any smaller, sweetheart, with you naked in front of us like this.”
“Can you hurry? I need one of you in me now .”
“What’s the rush?” says country boy. “Aren’t we allowed to take our time and cherish a princess?”
I don’t know what to make of the words. Cherish a princess? What the fuck? In the bedroom, I normally get called dirty slut and whore .
But I never normally reach the point of begging. Guys always slip it in before I even have time to get wet.
“Okay.” The blue-eyed one dips his finger inside of me one more time. “I think you’re ready for us, darling. Who would you like first?”
“I don’t care.”
“Come on. You’re the focus here, and we don’t take offense. Choose.”
“Suprise me.”
They’re all equal amounts of attractive. It’s like trying to choose between a sweet and savory snack—both are delicious in their own ways.
My heartbeat starts to lose rhythm.
Maybe they’ll be the death of me.
I don’t know how to describe the feeling. Maybe it’s the masks. Our identities are all concealed, so maybe that’s why I feel so comfortable around them. Maybe, if I saw their faces, I’d refuse to beg.
Then again, in this state, I’d bend over backward and submit to anything.
Still, I’m glad about the masks. Once, I went home with the captain of the soccer team, and he commented on how sad I looked on the walk to his house. Apparently the expression returned to my face as soon as the sex was over. He asked if I was depressed, and I said no way—clearly, he hadn’t met my sister.
Maybe I just have that sort of face.
But I’m anything but sad right now.
Especially when the tall one volunteers as tribute and goes first. He splits me in half. But I’m still alive, and one could argue I’m more alive than I’ve ever felt before.
That thing is a weapon.
It slides in hot, in and out of me.
Already, I feel an orgasm on the horizon.
Normally I worry about not being able to orgasm, and find myself trying to chase something that just doesn’t seem to arrive.
Tonight, I’m more concerned about coming too fast.
I watch his long dick slide in and out of me, and I think about my previous sexual encounters. Looking down to where my hookup and I are joined always used to freak me out a little. It deepened the situation, like it made me realize I was being penetrated by somebody I didn’t even know.
One could argue that I know these mysterious bikers even less, but somehow it’s hot seeing our bodies join. A thick vein bulges down one side of his length, and I can’t tear my eyes away from it.
I didn’t really think much about dicks before these three came along.
They’re all so pretty. Long with just the right amount of girth. And what they make up for downstairs, they probably lack in the face area. So the masks are a good thing, but I’m enjoying this too much to even consider what they look like.
“OH! It feels amazing !”
“I can’t hold on much longer.” He grits his teeth. Loses rhythm. “God, I’m gonna?—”
The injection of hot liquid does the talking.
He stands aside and the other two move forward to examine my pussy as cum spills out. What little I can see of their faces paints the most beautiful picture, so wanton and hard and desperate to go next.
Who will it be?
I look over to the window. It’s steamed. Teagan’s red-and-white floral bedsheets are crumpled, stained with cum.
I widen my legs and invite number two in—blue eyes. The tall one is slightly girthier, but this man possess the same impressive length.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “OH MY GOD.”
He catches a hidden gem inside of me. One that has never been uncovered before.
The feeling is foreign and my body doesn’t quite know how to react to it. All I know is that I want to feel like this forever.
He hits it on every single thrust.
And then he withdraws. Catches my clit.
It’s too much—a faint spell crashes over me.
The four corners of Teagan’s room edge away until there is no room. It’s just me and him, and his two friends watching.
I reach sensitivity overload.
My hand fists the bedsheets, but I’m no longer holding mulberry silk. It’s the very fabric of the universe, and it bends and contorts under my grasp as pleasure winds through me. His dick penetrates so deep that I almost feel our souls entwine. Something stirs in my stomach. His presence feels familiar, like we’ve met in another universe before or something.
He groans as he releases inside me.
And god, it’s a generous amount.
Enough to hydrate a dozen survivors on an island.
I feel my pussy sink when he pulls away, because I wasn’t ready for it to be over so soon. A need still burns there. It’s time for the third to step up and take me all the way.
Country boy flicks gray strands of hair away from his face. I expect him to dive in since he’s been waiting the longest, but he grabs my breasts instead.
He tweaks my nipple. “You have the most perfect breasts, sweetheart.”
The sensation shoots straight to my clit.
“Ah! AH!”
One of the other two swats my hand away. “No touching. Let us pleasure you .”
Men are supposed to be selfish creatures that only care for themselves. Leather-wearing motorcyclists, according to the movies, are supposed to be unforgiving degenerates that steal and break speed limits, and commit all sorts of selfish acts because riding a 1600cc plus automatically makes you better than the majority.
But I’ve been proven wrong.
Number three enters me.
My walls contract.
“God!” he says, turning to the others. “She is so tight.”
“I know,” replies the tall one. “Isn’t she just.”
“She’s ready to come,” says the blue-eyed one. “So hold off until she does.”
I close my eyes, grip the silk bedsheets until my fingers no longer have strength to hold them. I’m floating. It feels like my soul is leaving my body without the dying part.
Who knew sex could be this liberating?
“FUCK!”
The two watchers reach to grab my nipples, and it tips me over the edge. I release the most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced. It’s so intense that I don’t feel human. I’m the ocean on a high tide. I’m the wind blowing through the desert.
I’m the moon.
I’m the stars.
I’m the milky way.
I’m fucking everything.
Which is strange, because after sex, I usually feel nothing. I feel full, but not in a satisfied way. It’s like scarfing down a Raising Cane’s meal—some kind of fast-food junk that your body craves.
But you always feel disgusting after.
I don’t feel like that. There’s no panic. No rush to get dressed and get the hell away so I can leave before the guy inevitably does.
For the first time, I feel light. My stomach feels sated, and the paperweight feeling in my chest brings sleep to my eyes. It’s rare I get a good night’s sleep these days. Even melatonin pills can’t make me feel this relaxed.
I settle my back into the mattress and let it hold me. The three motorcyclists slip back into their pants, their figures blurred as my eyes lull shut again. Everything goes dark. Everything feels so peaceful. There’s no urge to leave and get back to the party, because my soul dances here.
Everything feels light, and my head feels like it’s in the clouds.
I’m seconds from drifting into a deep sleep when I feel one of them kiss my forehead.