A single offer of salvation. If so, I for one wouldn’t be stupid enough not to grab onto it as a lifeline. In learning to be more philosophical over the last few years, I’d come to realize that I’d made myself devoid of emotion to survive the vast displays of human pain, but it had taken a significant toll. The darkness that had once provided comfort now prodded me with the red-hot end of a fireplace poker on a regular basis. A reminder that I’d spend all eternity in Hell.
Not one kiss, nor a single taste would be enough to endure the damnation I deserved.
I shared in Weston’s concerns that the game we were playing would have dire consequences. I had one regret in my life, something that if I had an opportunity to change, I would jump at it. I’d abandon everything and everyone I knew, donating every penny of my wealth to resurrect Ava from the dead.
Remorse doesn’t look good on you asshole.
Maybe not, but history wouldn’t repeat itself.
With my eyes remaining locked on her shimmering face, I gulped the remainder of my drink, jamming it into the holder. “Come here.”
Maria knew instantly I was talking to her, a slight flush painting her lovely cheeks. The hint of embarrassment caused my balls to tighten. I decided to give her one more opportunity before I took matters into my hands. “I said, little pet. Come. Here.”
She purposely ignored me, staring at the window as if she’d find answers to some puzzle I’d seen forming in her eyes.
God, I wanted this woman, my cock swelling.
When she didn’t comply, I grabbed her arm, easily tossing her over my lap.
“What are you doing?” she squealed, immediately struggling to break free of my hold.
“You were told you are to obey the rules, yet you ignore them.”
“You didn’t tell me the rules.”
Weston chuckled. “They’re quite simple. You do anything we ask you to do.”
“And since you failed to do so, a punishment is required.” Tonight, my sadistic needs wouldn’t be satisfied. That wasn’t the point of our evening. Part of what the Damned had hoped to accomplish had already been achieved. I’d orchestrated a crowd in the lobby, fans eager to catch a single glimpse of a rockstar. I’d even been so evil as to call a local news station, who’d eagerly accepted the opportunity to grab some vivid footage of the massive star.
To say anything else was icing on the already sweet cake was blasphemy. I planned on enjoying every moment of making certain she knew that her world had also just shifted to the dark side. There was a good chance she already knew it given the obvious distress tearing at her mind. She was churning in a dark abyss of emotions, most of which I couldn’t read.
I jerked up her dazzling emerald green dress, revealing a matching lacy thong. She looked entirely different than her larger-than-life persona on stage. Leather pants. Clunky boots. Shimmering crop tops. This was the woman I could fall in love with.
Laughter threatened to give my thoughts away, but I shoved them back into the ugly vortex of my demented mind. Instead, I rolled the silky thong over her buttocks, taking my time to shift them to her knees.
“This isn’t fair,” she said, although there was limited conviction in her voice.
“‘We must always remember that it is when passions are most inflamed that fairness is most in jeopardy,'” Weston said quietly as he sipped his drink. When I lifted my brow, he grinned. “Susan Collins. One of my favorite quotes. In other words, our little lamb, there is no such thing as fairness in the face of serving three masters.”
I parted her legs, pressing down on her back with one hand as I brought my other to her bottom. Within seconds, the scent of her desire wafted into the confined space. I issued three swats without blinking an eye, the twisted man inside of me striving to break free. She was far too delicate, an innocent woman in a sea of sharks. Hurting her permanently would serve no purpose.
Creating an addictive need for domination would, perhaps even one to pain.
As she squirmed in my lap, throwing her hand back more than once, I glanced from Clinton to Weston. They both had voracious appetites, eager to sink their razor-sharp teeth into her skin, sucking out enough of her essence to feed their own. We were truly sick individuals, which was what made our friendship unique.
The light glisten on her skin was a clear indication of her arousal, her need to submit even if she wasn’t entirely certain why. She shuddered in my hold when I caressed her skin, adoring the deepening blush as well as savoring the heat on the tips of my fingers. If I had my way, they’d be seared from the deep lashes crisscrossing her perfect porcelain skin.
“Does this feel good, Maria?” I asked, the dusky whisper barely audible.
“Of course not.”
I adored her defiance.
I brought my hand down again. And again. This time I made certain not only did the sound create a wave of anxiety, but the pain would quickly turn into a rush of anguish. I repeated my actions, aware that neither man had taken their eyes off me. Even the driver found it difficult not to keep his gaze glued to the rearview mirror.
She would endure bouts of humiliation during her time spent with us. My mouth watered in anticipation. The thought was a powerful aphrodisiac. “I’ll ask you again. Does this turn you on?”
Maria moaned in a subtle way, yet to me it was as amplified as her rapid heartbeat. I felt it in my throat as well as the heated sensations of her desire between her long legs.
“Never.” Her tone of voice had changed, almost lilted like her laugh that I could listen to for hours.
“Your body betrays you, little pet.” I eased my finger between her legs, rubbing it up and down, taunting her to deny she was wet, glistening with her juices.
Her single whimper managed to be amplified given the stark quiet in the SUV, the bulletproofing also eradicating most sounds of traffic. In addition, neither one of my buddies had been this quiet before. There was a moment of reverence that seemed to take all three of us aback, as if the footprint of the harem we were developing had been set in concrete.
I thrust my finger into her tight channel, immediately rewarded with a series of husky moans. Inhaling, I held the scent of her perfume and her desire in my nostrils as I returned to the spanking, smacking one side of her bottom then the other with precision. She beat her small fists against the leather seat, still undulating her hips. The friction was about to drive me insane.
I’d yet to ask how long until we arrived at Clinton’s McMansion, but I honestly didn’t care. The need for her was creating a fissure in my sanity. At this point, I needed blissful release, or I wasn’t certain I could be responsible for my actions. I plunged several fingers deep into her pussy, savoring the sound made from driving into her with brutal thrusts.
Maria now rocked on my lap, bucking against my hand. Control wasn’t a strong virtue, but I pulled out, cracking my palm against her bottom six more times, a reminder that she would never be allowed to take a single moment of control.
Clinton’s chest Maria and fell, his breathing labored. I’d seen the same look in his eyes once before. The moment we’d tasted sweet perfection on our tongues and in our hands, one so satisfying that everything else would be bitter in comparison.
But the greatest high had been turned into a devastating low, a crushing blow not one of us had ever recovered from.
I was almost frantic in my need, sliding my finger under the elastic of her thong and with a single snap of my wrist, alleviating a problem. Then I pulled her into my lap, forcing her to straddle me.
My pulse sped up with lust, a kind so dark and demanding that for a few seconds, I was pulled into the strangling images of my past. “What do you want, little pet?”
“Fuck me. Just fuck me.”
—