27. Ophelia
OPHELIA
I’ve never experienced anything like this before.
It’s as though I’m caught in one of my erotic dreams, but only this time, I know it’s real.
Cain’s big hands are all over my body, touching every dip and curve.
Malachi’s lips are soft against my skin, but he uses his teeth to bite and graze.
He finds the strings holding the back of my dress together and plucks them undone.
The material falls from my body, leaving me in only the silky, champagne slip I’d worn underneath, and the tiny thong panties.
“Fuck, Ophelia,” Cain groans as he observes my body from behind his hooded mask. “You got all grown up.”
He pulls on the straps of my slip, pulling the front down over my breasts, baring them for him.
My nipples pucker and harden even further, and I’m so aware of their sensitivity, it’s as though all my focus is drawn to them.
Cain pulls up the front of his mask and drops down to cover one nipple with the heat of his mouth.
I gasp in response, the ache between my thighs coiling, my clit pulsing.
I’ve never had a man—or men—touch me like this, and it’s like I’m on a high, unable to get enough.
Malachi wraps a length of my hair around his hand, then pulls.
He forces my head back and angled, so I lift my chin, and he covers my mouth with his, kissing me from behind.
I kiss him back with a new level of desire, our tongues tangling.
I can feel how much he wants me; it’s pressed into the small of my back.
He keeps his hold on my hair while Cain moves to my other nipple, lavishing it with equal attention.
I wait for the voice in my head to tell me I’m a sinner, but none comes. For the first time ever, I’m free to do as I please. It’s as if I’m flying. I’m giddy with the sensations bombarding me and the freedom to enjoy them without the constant damning internal dialogue.
Cain moves down my body, dropping to his knees in front of me.
He pulls my slip the rest of the way off so it pools around my feet, and I step out of it.
He yanks off his mask completely, dropping it to the floor next to him, and he stares at my core, his expression pained.
He leans in, then presses his mouth to the front of my pussy.
I whimper in response, the sound filling the space, echoing in the high ceiling of the water tower.
This is so sinful, so wrong, but it feels so right.
I’m letting two men touch me at the same time, as another one watches—how can it be anything but wrong?
—but I can’t stop. Cain’s breath heats my skin through the skimpy material of my panties, and I reach down to lace my fingers through his soft hair.
I tilt my hips forward, wanting more, and he pushes his tongue against the front of my panties.
I freeze, Malachi’s mouth still on mine.
“I want to taste you, Angel,” Cain murmurs against my skin. “Nothing between us. No barrier.”
I know what he means, and I’m not sure I’m ready to go that far yet. “Taste me?” I say in shock, pulling away from Malachi. “There?”
He licks his lips. “Every inch of you.”
Surely people don’t do this? Isn’t it wrong? Dirty? But every part of me wants to feel his mouth there, to have his tongue inside me.
He doesn’t wait for my answer anyway. Cain growls and pulls my panties aside.