Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
ADELINA
Something had changed.
The air in the room had a different charge once Sas tied my ankle to the table leg. The touch on my side and over the lines of my tattoo came gently. Not Sas’s rough handling of me, but. . .
Graff?
And then he traced the still-tender lines of the flower, pressing tenderly along the lines. Definitely Graff. I leaned into the touch until it suddenly disappeared. Then, I whimpered and writhed on the table trying to get it back.
Were they really both here? And I was going to lose my virginity to not one, but two men? Total opposites, but both so enticing in their own ways. The thought of them both seeing me like this made my inner walls clench hungrily, needing to devour what they could offer.
A double tap on the table vibrated through my body, and I stilled. Not knowing where that came from. Was it Graff trying to calm me more? Sas was probably barking orders at him, telling him not to touch.
That was fine. Just the fact that he was here, watching, drove me insane with need.
“Sas?” I asked, then, “Graff?”
Nothing came back to me—no touch and no sounds other than the gush of blood rushing past my plugged ears. I yanked against the ropes and squirmed, but I wasn’t getting free.
I wanted to touch them as much as have them touch me, but I was helpless now. A victim, some would say. So why the hell did this helplessness make me so much wetter?
Another smack landed across my ass in a line and the sting had me mewling like a cat in heat. Then, a finger traced the line of my ass crack, down my slit, and pausing with pressure on my clit.
Who had their hands on me?
Sas? Doubtful, because he’d be pushing me.
It had to be Graff.
I tilted my hips to encourage the touch, chasing the orgasm that was so far away but almost within reach. The finger started circling the erect little nub, and I bucked on the table, whimpering.
When the rope bit into my skin, I hissed, but it only heightened the pleasure radiating from my clit.
And then, the touch disappeared.
I banged my forehead on the table and let out a plaintive groan.
Another slap across my ass brought me out of my frustration. Never, in a million years, would I have imagined how responsive I would be to this treatment. Would it surprise Sas? Graff?
Or . . . Rafe?
Shit, that was a sin. But damn how my jacked-up brain and body wanted all of them. I had to focus on my fiancé and Graff, since Sas had brought the tattoo artist into this little game.
Then, a finger landed just above my clit and stroked backward. I shivered when it crossed the sensitive spot and my entrance yawned for attention as the finger slid nearer. And then, it slipped inside.
“Shit, yes,” I hissed and bucked on the table, finally feeling the stretch my body craved.
My hips raised up and slammed down, banging my lower belly against the edge. I would have a bruise tomorrow from that, but it would be so worth it.
When I settled again, the finger started to move—in and out in long, slow strokes. It tilted backward and stroked against the back wall, then forward, pressing hard against a spot inside that made sparks fire behind my eyes.
“More,” I begged, and the rod crossed my ass again.
My cheeks were on fire from the abuse, which only added to the focused sensations on my body. I gasped and writhed, first uncomfortably and then, I really, really started to like it. I met his thrusts with my hips and pussy as much as I could move.
The hand—whose hand?—picked up speed, driving into and out of me until my pussy walls clamped down.
Then, there was the rumble of an unintelligible male voice. Sas’s, I thought. What was he sayi—“Oh!” I cried out as the size penetrating me doubled.
Thwack!
“Mmmm.. .” I couldn’t contain the sound, no matter how much he spanked me.
But if he was the one wielding whatever that rod was, it had to be Graff fucking me with his hand. I rolled my hips and panted as the pressure built in my low belly.
“Fuck,” I said on a breath, “yeah.”
The deep voice rumbled again, just beyond anything I could hear, and the hand paused.
Another boom of the bass in the voice.
I tried to grind against Graff’s fingers, but he placed a hand on my lower back to still me.
More rumbling bass, like when I’d been waiting outside a nightclub and could only hear the thumping through the walls.
The fingers grew in size again. He must have had three or perhaps four fucking me now. It stretched and pinched until my body adjusted. Then, he—Graff, I was sure now—pistoned inside me. I let out a small yelp as my core contracted and released around him.
I wished they were around Graff’s cock and that I could see in his eyes how he liked when he drew the uncontrollable spasms from my body. But then, I was lost. No more thoughts about who was there and what they were doing. I just soared on the pleasure jolting through my system.
My mouth fell open on a moan, and I came harder than I’d ever come with a toy or my fingers. The thought of both Sas and Graff there, wringing pleasure from my body made the orgasm circle and double and I swear I came again before I could even recover from the first time. My body locked up and as it started to float down, my cunt got super sensitive.
I tried to push forward like, to get away from the assault on my pussy, and I giggled.
So tender and ticklish now.
What the hell? Did this always happen after real orgasms?
The hand disappeared, but another one splayed against the small of my back, not allowing me to move. I could squirm all I wanted, but he—Sas, this time, I knew by the longer feel of his fingers—had me trapped.
A rumble of voices mingled behind me, and I craned my neck like I could see them. But there was nothing but blackness and muffled male bickering. Another smack landed on my ass, and I placed my cheek back on the table.
Then, something large pressed between my lips, lining up with my channel.
I bit my lip, waiting with keen anticipation for what would come next.
The flared head of a cock—so much larger than a single finger—slipped inside, and I gasped. Then, Sas’s firm hands gripped my hips, and his cock drove home.
I threw my head back, arched up off the surface, and fucking screamed. My body started shaking so hard I could feel the table rattling beneath me. I clenched and bared down, fighting the intrusion.
Sas kept pushing, all the way into his hilt, holding my hips down. Slowly, I dropped my forehead to the table, no longer fighting what was deep inside me. My body started to loosen, to accept him.
A whisper erupted, almost like I was begging for more. “Sas. Oh, fuck.”
He held his cock inside me for several long minutes. It seemed like half an hour, but it was likely only seconds. The cock grew thicker, pulsing, wanting me as much as I wanted to be fucked raw.
There was a grunt. Something I could feel from where our bodies were connected. Finally, at long last, I’d lost my virginity, and I was high with this fucked-up situation. I had always known my cravings for sex wouldn’t follow the normal, boring situations, and this proved it.
More voices.
But I was so lost in all the stimulation I couldn’t find it in me to care what they talked about. I just needed more. My belly was starting to quicken, even without him moving. My body was his.
Theirs.
And I wondered if I could be theirs in more than just a body. Not today, but maybe someday.
Affirming the man fucking me was Sas, a hand wrapped into my hair and pulled me back until I was arched up off the table like a sphinx. His hips backed away and pounded into me.
I cried out, because it hurt so good.
Sas’s balls slapped my clit, and his thighs slapped mine and to top it off, his palm landed on my ass cheek. Then, both his hands returned to my hips, lifting them from the table as he drove into me over and over again. The ropes scratched against my wrists and ankles, adding to the pain and pleasure building in my body.
“Damn”—I panted—“Sas.”
I jerked and more sounds started leaking from my throat with every one of Sas’s thrusts. Not three strokes later, I was coming for the second time.
Harder as his cock kept hitting some spot inside that was driving electricity from my core to my nipples and radiating it out through every limb.
The fist wrapped into my hair again and pulled me back against Sas’s chest.
He dislodged the earplug just a little from my ear and gritted out, “Easy like a whore,” just before he put it back in place and let go of my hair.
I was still in the middle of coming as Sas withdrew. My orgasm crested and fell away, and my body wanted to be pushed to that high again. Then, I felt something hot and wet spurting onto my lower back in long, thick cords.
He hunched over me so that I could feel the heat rolling off his body and his breath brushing against my hair.
Fuck, that was hot, and I needed more.
Did Graff enjoy the show? I wanted to ask, but my brain couldn’t string enough coherent words together. Would he fuck me with his cock now?
Moments passed when I couldn’t focus on anything except all the things my body had just gone through, and then someone grabbed my hand. Not Sas.
Graff took my one bound hand in his and wrapped my fingers around his hard length. I curled them around him, but they wouldn’t touch. Sas had length, but damn did Graff have girth. My mouth watered, but I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with my hand tied.
I could move it only slightly, but I tried. I inched my fingers up and slid my thumb over the wet slit on the crown of his cock. I considered trying to bring my head over to place him in my mouth, but I was stretched too far.
His cock kicked in my hand, but he was holding still, allowing me to explore. How sweet. Then, as much as I could. I smoothed my hand down the length of his cock, running my fingers over the protruding veins.
Graff stepped closer, letting me feel.
Then, fingers were working at the rope tying down the hand stroking his cock. They fell away, but I was still pinned by three other points.
Graff took my hand in his own, moving it up and down, coaching me through feel. It started slow, but then he quickened the pace, and I paid close attention to everything he was showing me he liked. When his hand left mine, I kept the rhythm.
My empty core clenched again, and I licked my lips, but no matter where I wanted a cock, I was at their mercy. And they seemed to want to make this slow and deliciously torturous.
Graff kept grinding his hips into my grip, and I imagined it was my pussy.
Suddenly, someone ripped away the blindfold, and I nearly screamed.
My hand stopped immediately as I blinked against the harsh lights. They were dimmed, but still burned after having my sight blocked entirely. I twisted my head around, squinting at the common room and then let my eyes fall to the engorged cock in my hand.
There was a smiley face tattooed onto the head of his dick, and I knew for certain it was Graff. Allowing my eyes to lift to him, I smiled and ran my tongue over my lower lip.
He rolled his lips between his teeth as his eyes rolled back in his head, and I relished the way pleasure looked on him. Still stroking his cock and meeting his thrusts, I found Sas over Graff’s shoulder.
He strolled up to Graff’s side, tucking away his own cock. He wore a broad grin that reminded me of the devil.
“Don’t forget about dear old uncle.” Sas grabbed my chin and forced my gaze down to the end of the table.
We locked gazes in a stare down. Neither of us blinked.
Perhaps my thought of him before had been a premonition.
A laugh erupted from my chest, my face burning as I giggled.
Gripping Graff’s cock tighter, I continued fucking him with my hand as I ground myself against the table like I could come again.
All the while, I maintained eye contact with Rafe.
Graff said something. I couldn’t make out the words, but the sound boomed, and I saw his head fall back out of my peripheral vision.
His pace quickened, and I squeezed harder until he was jerking uncontrollably and spurting his cum all over the table beside my face. Finally, I looked away from Rafe—for now—and stared at the white semen. Letting go of Graff, I slid my forefinger through it and rubbed it between my thumb and finger. Thick and slick. I knitted my brows, then placed my finger in my mouth while looking up at Graff.
Bracing his weight on the table, Graff reached down to my ear and ripped out one of the plugs.
“You good?” he asked quietly, and I nodded.
“Get her down.” Sas slapped me on the ass again before walking out of the room. “Good night, Rafe. See you tomorrow morning. Vegas should be fun.”
Suddenly, Rafe stood. The chair clattered against the floor, and I jumped. I watched him stride from the room quickly, his erection bulging at the front of his jeans.
“Rafe?” I called, but he was gone in a flash.
“Are you all right?” Graff took the second earplug from my ears, and repeated, “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” I said, voice scratchy.
He searched my face for a hint of anything else. Tears? Regret?
But he wasn’t getting that. If I had to do it over again, that would have been exactly the way I wanted to lose my virginity. I laid my head against the table, a dopey smirk pulling at my lips.
Graff brushed the hair from my eyes and said, “I’ve seen many bunnies in my day, but they’ve never done that.”
Lazily, I answered, “I’m not a bunny.”
“You’re not an old lady, either.”
My eyes flashed up to him, still drunk on my orgasms. “Untie me?”
When he finished loosening the ropes, I asked, “Then what am I, Graff?”
He pinched his lips and his brows dropped into a V at the bridge of his nose, like he was fighting the words he wanted to say.
At last, he said, “You’re our . . . princess.”
My heart flooded with warmth. Not his. Not Sas’s.
But theirs .
The one that remained, though, was Rafe. He’d watched but didn’t touch. And I found that hot as fuck. But I’d have to deal with that another time.
I sat up on the table, and Graff gathered my robe from the floor, wrapped me up, and then carried me through the door to my appointed room. Men’s and women’s voices fluttered down the hallways, people returning from the bonfire.
Inside my room, Graff laid me down on the bed. My head rested on the pillow, and he pulled the blankets up around me, neither of us having said anything on the walk down here. It was a comfortable silence.
He started to walk back toward the door.
“Wait, Graff.”
He paused, hesitating to turn around, but he checked over his shoulder.
I stretched out my hand to him. “Don’t go.”
“I shouldn’t stay,” he said, his hands curling at his sides.
“Lots of shouldn’ts, but will you lay with me?” I asked as another flush of heat filled my cheeks. “Sleep with me, I mean.”
Nodding, he kicked off his shoes and laid his cut on the nightstand, and then crawled into bed with me. Already, my eyelids were drooping.
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, my head against his chest listening to the steady thump of his heart. I was drifting off to sleep as he kissed my forehead.
And I swear I heard something along the lines of, “We’re the luckiest fucking bastards alive.”