The second the front door shut, she had me against it—firm hand at my throat, not rough, just a warning. Behave, or don’t. Either way, I’ll enjoy it.
“You’re mine till I say otherwise,” she said, lips brushing mine. My stomach flipped. I fucking loved it.
She stepped back, eyes flicking to the lads.
“Strip her. Now.”
No hesitation. Dave moved first—slow hands, steady, almost reverent. Ash wasn’t far behind, peeling my top off like he was unwrapping something expensive. My jeans hit the floor, knickers not long after. By the time they were done, I was bare and buzzing. She hadn’t laid a proper hand on me and I was already soaked.
She walked a slow circle round me, like she was inspecting her prize. “Pretty,” she murmured, dragging a finger down my spine. “But I reckon you’re filth underneath.”
I didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. My thighs said enough.
She snapped her fingers and pointed to the sofa. “Sit. Legs apart.”
I did as I was told. That smirk never left her face.
“Boys,” she said, turning to them, “you sit over there. And keep your hands to yourselves. You can look, but no touching. Yet.”
They sat, eyes glued, cocks twitching under their jeans.
Then she dropped to her knees between mine like she’d been born there.
I expected a warm-up. Teasing. Something slow.
Nah.
She buried her face in me like she was starving. Tongue everywhere. Sucking, licking, moaning into me like I was the one giving her a treat.
I grabbed the back of her head, rolled my hips, let out a noise I didn’t recognise.
She didn’t stop. Not once. She held my thighs open, nails digging in just enough to sting, and made me come undone right there—lads watching, me shaking, panting her name.
She pulled back, licking her lips like I was the best thing she’d tasted all week.
“One down,” she said, standing up and pulling her top off, tits spilling out. “Now let’s see what the boys can do for me.” |
