Chapter 15
A whimper pulls from my throat at the loss of his teasing fingers. He slides his hand over the inner crease of my thigh, traveling towards my waist, squeezing it gently before undoing his navy-blue pants. Lifting his hips, he tugs them down, shifting the fabric against my naked skin.
“Stand up for me, flower,” he murmurs, easing my legs back together. The wetness between them rubs against my inner thighs. Following his request, I stand on shaky legs to see Atticus smirking at me, flicking the silver hoop decorating the glistening tip of his pink cock.
“Bend her over the table,” Atticus grunts, pinching the piercing between his fingers. “Keep your eyes on me, cher. I want to see those pretty eyes while you come for another man.”
Ren’s warm palm caresses my shoulder, his finger teasing the strap of my athletic bra. My arms brace in front of me as he pushes me forward, lining himself against my slit. I hold Atticus’ gaze, my pulse thundering in my ears. The room fades as Ren eases his hips forward and nudges his bare length in, stretching me wider than I’ve experienced.
Anxiety prickles my skin as he prods the rigid tissue. His fingers dig into my shoulder, pulling a hiss from between my teeth at the bite of pain that makes my pussy flutter.
“Ah–fuck,” he pants, rolling his hips.
A breathy moan slips past my lips as his hand slides from my shoulder. He brushes down my side to the front of my thigh, sending a throb through my clit. Heat builds low in my stomach, the need for pleasure overriding the humiliation of Atticus beating me at my own game. His fingers brush over my mound finding my pulsing nub.
Fisting my hands against the cool table, I hold Atticus’ gaze as he thumbs the pre-cum gathered around his swollen tip, “F-faster…” I mumble, feeling my cheeks heat. “F-uck me fa-faster, Ren.”
His name rolls off my tongue easily, a soft plea in place of the sharp cry I’ve grown numb to. His movements cease, pulling me away from the edge I desperately crave to jump over. A weak whine crawls from my throat, begging him not to stop.
“Beg for it,” he breathes, “Beg for me in front of your husband.” His voice deepens at the mention of Atticus, sending a pulse of lust through my core.
My lips part in an ‘o’, his words taking me by surprise. “P-p-please?” I falter, the words dying on my tongue as his fingers pinch my hooded nub.
His cock jerks against my stretched walls, triggering another flutter from the muscle. “You can do better than that, flower,” he grunts, gently rocking into my body, the sound of my wetness echoing between us.
“Oh God–p-please,” I stammer as my eyes flutter, fighting to stay on Atticus as he squeezes his cock in a punishing grip, turning it into an angry shade of red. His mouth drops open with a pained groan that floods my pussy.
“Not God, baby girl,” Ren growls, “Say. My. Name.” He drives his throbbing cock into my soaking core with each word.
My arousal drips down the inside of my thighs, making them slide together with each thrust.
“Ren!” I gasp, needing him to give into my plea.
“Good fucking girl,” he groans, tugging on my clit. “Look at your husband, stroking his cock for us.” His hips thrust at the brutal speed I begged for, bringing me back to the edge.
Licking his lips, Atticus pumps his veiny length in his fist, pre-cum coating his hand and acting as lube.
Ren’s fingers begin to roll the sensitive nerves between his fingers, soothing the ache from being pulled. The heat in my stomach builds swiftly, ready to bubble over. My legs shake under me, unwilling to hold me through the brutal pace of pleasure.
“Fuuck…” Atticus hisses, fisting his slippery cock in sync with Ren’s thrusts. His eyes glaze over, high from his own lust.
“Your pretty cunt takes me so well,” Ren pants. “So hot–so fucking wet.”
A gush of my arousal floods between us, dripping down into the leggings pooled around my calves. My breaths puff out in short bursts, making me lightheaded. “I’m g-gonna–” I rasp, my words cut off by Ren’s fingers moving faster.
“Come for me, flower,” he demands huskily as his skin slaps hard against mine, chasing his own release.
Locking eyes with Atticus, I cry out Ren’s name hoarsely as my orgasm crashes over me. Raising his hips, Atticus pounds into his fist until cum spills over his fingers. His chest rises rapidly, recovering from the intensity of his pleasure.
“Fuck, that’s it, baby girl,” Ren groans, “Let him see how good I make you feel.” His filthy words send my eyes rolling, breaking the connection with Atticus’ demand to keep my eyes on him.
My arms tremble from the budding pressure of another orgasm while my heart beats frantically against my ribcage. “I can’t–” I whine as sweat beads down my chest, disappearing into the fabric of my bra.
Slamming into my dripping core, Ren hisses as his cock pulses inside of me, “Fuck, I’m going to fill your perfect cunt.” He flicks my oversensitive nerves, sending a tremor through my body. His cock jerks steadily with a second wave of my pleasure, filling my pussy with his cum until it leaks between us.
“That was a delicious show,” Atticus taunts, bringing me back to reality. “Well done, mon papillon.”
My eyes focus back to him, noticing his dark pupils are still blown wide. He tucks his limp cock back in his cumstained pants, appearing far more presentable than me and the man still inside of me.
The guilt of what I allowed to happen settles in my chest. Did I seriously enjoy that? I shake my head at myself.
You’re sick. Just. Like. Him.
Ren eases his semi-hard length from my quivering core, sliding his fingers in gentle circles over my aching nub. His touch is comforting, even after everything he did.
“Are you satisfied, Lennon?” Ren clips.
Pulling up from the table, I straighten my spine, ready to be done with Atticus’ bullshit.
“More than satisfied,” he drawls, standing from his chair. “Clean yourselves up, you’re making a mess of my office.” He spares me a brief look, eyes trailing over my exposed flesh. “You’re on the schedule tonight, cher.”
Leaving the room without another word, he closes the door behind him. My breath hitches at being left with the man I just fell apart for, hoping he isn’t a man like my husband.
“I’m sorry, flower,” he whispers, brushing his hands down my waist. “We had to play his game, even if we didn’t want to.”
Frowning, I turn on unsteady feet to face Ren. “Why are you sorry then?” I ask.
His gorgeous face is shadowed with enough guilt that it makes my stomach sick. “I didn’t have your explicit consent for any of that.” He shakes head, refusing to look me in the eye as he speaks. “I’m not like him. I’m not a monster, little flower.”
“We’re all monsters, Ren,” I sigh, bending down to pull my soiled leggings up. “Some of us are just better at hiding it.”
He tucks himself back into his stained slacks quickly, removing the naked tension between us. His dual-colored gaze meets mine, a fierce glint in them as he speaks, “You are not a monster, Mae Lennon.”
A disbelieving huff leaves my lips, I know what I am and it sure isn’t an angel. “I stay with one willingly, so what does that make me if not a monster?” I snark. Warm hands cup my face before I can continue my self-deprecating train of thought.
“I’ll get you away from him, little flower. I promise.” He breathes, the words ghosting along my lips.
Licking my lips, I fight against the years of conditioning that made me stay when all I wanted to do was flee. “Please,” I murmur, choosing to put my faith in him and his promises of help.
It’s a risk I can’t afford, but the sickly feeling of hope burrowed its way under my skin, infecting my blood. I’ll be good. I”ll play along with Atticus and his sick games. For Ren and his pretty promises, and the traitorous light of hope.