Chapter 18 #3
Yet again, my legs begin to tremble, and I’m seconds from coming with a firestorm of ecstasy about to roll in… But I don’t say please.
He removes the vibe, again, and waits out my gasping and my useless swearing through the gag.
Instead, I feel the ass plug sucked out then a cock push at me there.
“Fuck, yeah,” Mr. Loxland grates out as he tunnels his cock into my ass and halts inside me. Then he squeezes in deeper, before withdrawing then slowly pushing in again, and I’m so needy, so ready. Frustrated, I sob and gurgle words that can’t possibly be understandable.
“Close enough.”
And the vibe returns, pressed hard against my mound, my clit, humming in and before I can do more than cry out once, I’m coming with the storm destroying all thoughts as I keen and shake.
Legs wrecked by the climax, I crumple into the ropes with one man reaming my ass, while Tomás unclips my ankle cuffs from the rope. He picks up my legs, adjusts his arms where they’re under me, and waits for Loxland to pause.
Then he pushes his cock into me.
Both men, I’m being fucked by both.
I’m slapped into at front and rear and I can’t hug Tomás or do anything except be a target for them, a warm wet hole, as one of them called me earlier.
My mouth seems permanently open, my huffs and groans endless, as they build to a faster tempo, and the remnants of my orgasm make me feel the force of every inch of each thrust a thousandfold. The tug of the clamps on my nipples adds a zinging hurt.
This is more in every way than what happened at the hall. Two men inside me at the same time, taking my ass, my pussy, while the glow from my orgasm ramps up and builds.
The clamps hurt as they swing wildly. I’m sandwiched between the men, and being thoroughly reamed, held by the ropes in their thrall.
I want to claw at Tomás’s shoulders and can’t.
Harder, faster, with them swearing when one man’s thrusts mistime with the other’s and one of them stops—Loxland. Then he rams in and goes fully deep and grunts, and I splutter as I feel him start to come.
Finished, he pulls out and grabs my hair, holds it tighter, twists it until I’m gazing up at his night-darkened eyes looking down at me. “Do her, hard, man. I’m watching.”
Which makes Tomás ram in solidly, jarring me, slapping up into my legs, once, twice, three times, before he stiffens, and every muscle goes rigid. He clasps my hips as he grunts and lets me have every ounce of come that pulses from his cock.
Loxland kisses me, then releases my hair and lets Tomás control my head.
“Fuck.” Still inside me, he kisses me, messily, over the gag, breathing, rasping, biting my lip then burying my face against his chest. “Damn, that was good.”
Loxland undoes the hand cuffs then pulls me into a hug. Still sandwiched between them, I’ve so much come dribbling down my legs, I’ll be sticking half the beach to me if the wind picks up.
When Mr. Loxland turns me around, I collapse a little, my legs jelly. He hefts me into his arms, cradling me while Tomás unties the gag.
“Get the car. I’ll bring her closer to the road.” He nuzzles my cheek. “Be quiet and good. Don’t want to make anyone driving by thinking we’re kidnapping you. Unless you want to be spanked by the roadside.”
Car? What else did they lie about? That the moon isn’t made of cheese? I hiccup and laugh, sniffle back some tears that have found their way into my nose. One of them must have parked it here earlier. “As if you’d do that to a lady.”
“A lady?” Mr. Loxland drums his fingers on my thigh. “A very bad, well-fucked, naked lady, if you are one of those.”
“Mmm.” I watch his face as he carries me. They’re handling me like their own private fucktoy, and it’s exactly what I want and, maybe, it’s just what I need.
It’s only when the car pulls over in front of us that I remember the previous time I was at a beach at night. With Riley.
The moment descends abruptly into a stark realization of the contrast between then and now. Both times were joyful, but she is dead.
Live life? It’s harder to do than that simple saying suggests. I’ll never forget her, but I should relive the good parts of our friendship as well as seek vengeance.
Once in the car, with a towel around me and on the seat, I curl up against Mr. Loxland’s shoulder and ponder the complexity of grief as the car winds down the road that leads to our hotel. All the roads on this island go there, eventually.
“You okay, angel?” he asks in the most concerned tone.
“I am, I think. Hey, If I’m an avenging angel, what are you?”
“You think you’re an avenging angel, little psycho?” He ruffles my hair.
I shrug.
“Hmmm.”
From the front, Tomás answers, “We’re your big, bad demons.”
“A bit up yourselves, boys.” I could not help adding that.
That they both laugh says a lot about how this relationship is going.
“How do I get into the hotel, like this, without being arrested for indecent exposure?”
“We might just toss you through the door,” Mr. Loxland says.
I headbutt his arm, softly, before I snuggle back into him, and he pulls me closer.