“Are you ready?” he whispers beneath me as his hands guide my shoulders forward, my breasts now pressed against his chest to give Marco better access.
The wings of panic begin to flutter anew, fear fanning it as I feel his fingers grip onto the base of the plug and begin to remove it. The mewling sound I make is involuntary, my heart thudding—that potent mixture of the unknown and the wanting to know messing with my head more than it already is.
The plug slips out and my whole body tenses when I feel a generous amount of lubricant applied. I suck in my breath, emotions warring, body anticipating, and ache intensifying while I sit in that suspended state of time between fingers leaving my skin and waiting for the next contact.
The head of his cock presses against my forbidden entrance, and Anderson flashes through my mind causing a sob to tear through my throat. This isn’t how I want this. I mean, I want this—to try this—but with Anderson, my husband … not forced and …
My body tremors and the tears fall. I start to struggle away, start to try and fight against this, against him. My shout fills the room. Hands grip my shoulders and pull me tightly against my captor’s chest. His arms hold me there, my hips wriggling—pleasure I don’t want presenting itself as my clit moves against the length of his cock still within me.
“Don’t fight us.” His voice is a demand in my ear. “You want this. We want this.” I resist again as Marco presses against my unrelenting muscles. “We’re going to claim that virgin ass of yours. Going to fuck you, one hole for each of us. Going to make you realize just how good it feels to be that dirty little whore you want to be … you fight to deny.”
I begin to shift again but this time it’s because no matter how overwhelming the situation is—how much I don’t want to be at the mercy of two men I can’t even see—I’m dripping in moisture. My desire to continue more than evident as it slides out of me and over our connection.
I hold onto the inexplicable and misguided sense of trust that I feel with the man who began this whole bizarre situation. I grasp onto the now and not the why as Marco’s dick pushes into me. The searing pain assaults me when he forces his head through the tight ring of unforgiving muscles.
My eyes water and I shout out at the indescribable pain. My body bucks in resistance as both men use their hands to hold me still.
“Hold on. Once his head’s in, we’ll let you adjust,” he almost croons to me against the riot of noise filling my head. “Don’t make me gag you,” he warns when I don’t stop.
I bite my lip to turn the shouts to whimpers, and I’m so focused on the threat of the gag that it takes me a moment to realize that the sting is dissipating. I even out my breathing as the rest of the pain fades and I feel fingers applying more lube. And then Marco ever so slowly starts to move. He pushes farther into me and the breath I’ve just evened out gets stolen.
The orgasm rips through me at a lightning fast pace. I don’t have time to wonder if it’s the million nerve endings hidden within the ring Marco just pulled on, or the idea of doing something others had always called taboo, or if it actually feels good because the intensity with which my release hits rivals no other climax I’ve ever experienced.
I couldn’t fight the pleasure that violently rips through me even if I wanted to. My legs clench into the hips they frame, my feet curl, my mouth falls open, but I’m so overwhelmed with the overabundance of different sensations I can’t utter a sound. My breath is held hostage by the pleasure edged with pain, and I don’t even realize it, don’t even attempt to find it, as my pussy clamps down and muscles pulse rhythmically around both cocks filling me. And I don’t know if it’s being stretched—filled so incredibly full—but my orgasm rages on, my body tremoring and head lost to the orgasmic haze.
And then they start to move.
My breath comes back. The twinge of pain is still there, but my adrenaline is on such a high, the ache that should be sated is already ratcheting upwards. I think I moan, I don’t even know because all I smell is peppermint, all I feel is pleasure, all I want is more.
The push and pull of one dick moving in while the other moves out. The feel of them rubbing together through the thin interior wall between them. One pair of hands on my hips, the other holding me down. The pants of exertion and slick sound of lubed flesh being worked. Every single thing assaults my senses, drags me under yet has me on edge, waiting, wanting, willing to come again.
To take what I want for the first time in so very long.
Anderson flickers through my mind, and I push him away. I can’t have him here right now, can’t think of him while feeling all of this, because then I’d have to admit that this is what I want.
This is what I need.
That this is that little bit more …
Chapter Six
My head lolls forward, my forehead against my captor’s shoulder as his arms continue to hold and guide me. My body still simmers, still burns for more, but I don’t know how much more I can handle. I’m exhausted: physically, mentally, sexually. For a girl used to one orgasm at a time, my body can’t come any more.
I think the men realize this, but they don’t relent as they chase their own releases.
Time lapses and positions change.
Murmured words are spoken from my captor.
Fingers grip my hips.
Grunts and the sound of flesh hitting flesh.
Moans of release.
Sleep comes without thought.
The smell of peppermint awakes me way too soon.
I’m allowed to use the facilities.
Never alone.
Drink of water offered.
Refastened to bed for another round to begin.
On my back.
This time just Marco.
Still silent.
Presence still dominating the room.
The only connection is where our bodies join.
First him.
Then my captor.
Pleading with them to stop.
Can’t take anymore.
Saying Anderson’s name over and over.
Focusing on the peppermint.
Not the continuous onslaught of sensation.
Feeling like a rag doll.
But the orgasms still come.
Drowning in the unwelcome pleasure.
Body traitorous.
Mind escaping.
Drinking more water.
Wishing for the chocolate covered strawberries.
Head becoming fuzzy. Just like walking back to the hotel.
Darkness closing in.
Feeling free. Weightless, cradled.
Peppermint again.
Cool Air. Bright lights.
The ding of an elevator.
“My girlfriend.” My captor’s voice. A soft, knowing chuckle. “Silly American pride made her think she could handle our vino.” The warmth of a kiss pressed to my forehead. Polite laughter. Murmured good lucks.
The ding of the elevator.
Sinking into softness.
Cocooned in blankets.
“Ora sei libero,” murmured against my ear.
Blackness.
Chapter Seven
I shift restlessly in the bed, my head groggy and body aching. I roll over onto my stomach and feel a crackling over my chest. My mind snaps awake with awareness and I bolt up in the bed with a groan. The light hits my eyes and I raise an arm to shield them from its harsh rays. My heart pounds and once my eyes can adjust, they dart frantically around the room.
My hotel room.
I immediately grab the bedding and hold it to my chest in a ridiculous form of protection from the silence and the unknown. It takes me a second to catch my breath, to even out my pulse, and to really believe that I’m here.