fast," Donovan says. He moves down my body, his lips grazing my neck, my clavicle, the valley between my breasts. The heat of his tongue on my nipple has me arching my back, and when he sucks… oh, when he sucks, I moan loudly enough to make him smile against my skin.
"She likes that," Daryl says, finally dry enough to climb onto the bed next to us.
"Take over," Donovan orders, moving lower to taste my navel and then slide his tongue down the middle of my belly until it's poised over my panties. He waits, then begins to slowly push them over my hips.
"You know that guy at the motorcycle shop was thinking about doing this to you…" Donovan says. "When you straddled that bike, and your pussy made contact with his ass, his mind went to eating you out."
"You don't know that." My hands find the top of his head, half wanting to urge him on, half wanting to slow him down and hear more of his filthy words.
"I know because I've been thinking about it all day too. Wanting to see this pretty pussy, wanting to know what you smell like, what you taste like, how you'll quiver when I do this." He bends close, inhaling before the point of his tongue flicks my already swollen clit. "Fuck," he mutters as my legs close around his head, the sensation too much for me to bear. He forces my knees apart, spreading me wide.
"Look," he tells Daryl, just as Dwayne is tossing his towel over the chair in the corner.
Donovan trails a finger from the small patch of curls at the apex of my thighs, over my clit, and between my labia until he reaches my entrance. "She's leaking already, and I haven't even done anything yet." He brings his finger to his lips, licking my arousal, his eyes rolling.
"You don't understand…" He shakes his head. "The taste of you makes me crazy.” He fists his cock, tugging hard, once, twice, three times. "I'm going to make you come, then I'm going to fuck you so good you're going to see stars."
"Donovan's a poet now." Dwayne laughs until Donovan grabs his hand and makes him repeat what he just did. When Dwayne's finger slides between his own lips and his eyes roll too, I have to close mine. I can't watch this without getting lightheaded, especially when Daryl's lips are mouthing my nipple, his tongue circling, then dropping lower to suck hard. His hand squeezes my other breast, and I have to grip the comforter to anchor myself.
"Feel like writing a sonnet yourself now, don't you?" Donovan says.
"You gonna eat that pussy or just talk about it all day?" Daryl says.
I guess that's enough to urge Donovan on because there's no more talk, just a hot mouth between my legs that makes me groan. Gone is the shyness I felt when Justin first opened my legs. He never talked about my body or told me I was beautiful. He made me feel good physically, but the whole experience was empty of appreciation. These men, for all their filthy gruff talk, make me feel sexy. This process of submitting to them makes me feel amazing.
There's freedom in this. Shaking off my self-imposed chains feels so good I fear it's becoming an addiction. Is this how people become sex addicts? They use it to fill a hole where love and faith should live?
Before I can think any more about it, Dwayne has rounded the bed to kiss me.
And what a kiss it is. Soft and tentative, sliding into deep and sensual. My hand goes to the back of his neck, needing some control of this part as his brothers worship the rest of me. Dwayne slowly peels my hand away and presses it into the bed over my head, then the other. "I think we'll keep these here."
There would be no resisting him either. His hands are huge, and he's strong as an ox, dark eyes smiling down at me as though he's daring me to try before he kisses me again. Between my legs, Donovan sucks hard on my clit, and my hips jerk so violently that a hand is pressed against my stomach to keep me immobile, then two hands grip my ankles, holding them tight. There's no moving in this position. All I can do is give in to the sensations and let these men hold me hostage while they feast on my body. It's this knowledge that