The Player (The Game Maker #3) - Kresley Cole Page 0,29
They had to know what he was doing.
The guys cast me wolfish looks, and their hands caressed down Red’s body. She met gazes with me, then her eyes shot wide. We were both getting fingered in this room—and we both knew it.
Red’s lids soon grew heavy. She didn’t seem to mind an audience.
Did I look as turned on as she did? Was Dmitri aroused by the girl? I glanced at him. His eyes were locked on me.
I murmured, “I can’t let you do this.”
“Of course you can.” He was a devil in my ear, mesmerizing me with his thrall.
Of course I can. No! Vice, get hold of yourself.
“We won’t be doing anything they’re not,” he continued. “This situation heats your blood, doesn’t it? Then surrender to it, Vika. To me. Put your hands behind my head again.”
Such a vulnerable position in front of others.
“Do it, or I won’t let you come.”
Nooo! Shaking, I reached up and locked my hands again. In reward, he pinched my nipples through my dress, giving me a shock of sensation. I had to stifle a cry.
Red put her arms back too, but the dark-haired guy upped the ante, tugging down her sheath dress to bare her perky breasts.
The girl liked being exposed. She arched her back, and I could tell she was rocking her hips on her partners’ fingers.
As I stared, her hands descended—as did the zipper of my dress. Dmitri was going to bare me too? This couldn’t be happening.
I wanted to die of humiliation. Or come. Again everything got confused in my mind, and the embarrassment fueled my arousal.
I tensed to stop him, but then I realized both of Red’s hands were moving under the table. She was jacking off both guys.
While all three stared at me.
“This is . . . wicked,” I whispered. Forbidden.
“Submit to me,” Dmitri grated. “I am giving you what you need—because you are a wicked girl.”
Dmitri was making me into one. Suddenly, I was arching my back. “Yes, yes . . .”
He peeled the dress wide, uncovering my tits.
The others’ reactions—hooded lids and parted lips—made my nipples even harder. Dmitri himself was virtually a stranger to me, and now three others were getting a show.
“Feel how wet you’re getting!” he murmured, doing those heavenly/sinful things with his fingers. “You crave their eyes on you.”
I did! This primal need to be controlled by him—and watched by others—pulsed through me.
Sensing my surrender, he nuzzled my ear. “Doesn’t it feel good when you do as I say?”
My moans grew constant. I was going to dissolve in front of these strangers. I shook so hard my breasts quivered for my audience.
Dmitri pulled my head back to his chest with a decisive tug on my hair, which made me—and Red—cry out. “You want them to know how wet you are, don’t you?” He delved those two fingers deep inside me as his thumb worked my clit.
“Ahhh!” So close, so close . . . Oh, dear God, four people were going to watch me come.
“Shall I show them my fingers glistening from your pussy?”
“No, nooo.” My face heated just to think of it. Showing my tits was one thing—I’d been known to flash them myself—but not something so intimate!
Yet Dmitri brought his soaked fingers up, revealing them by the light of my neon collar. Red gave a cry at the sight and writhed. The dark-haired guy groaned, and his body jerked. The blond bit out a curse, gritting his teeth, struggling not to come.
I went wild. Couldn’t catch my breath. About to lose my mind. “Gonna . . . scream. Don’t let me . . . scream.”
“I won’t. Just take a taste. Then I’ll bring you off.” His other hand took over, frigging my clit as he brought his wet fingers to my mouth. With his hot breaths against my neck, he commanded, “Suck.”
So fucking forbidden. Would I really do this in front of others? I couldn’t form sentences. “How . . . you . . .” I trailed off, whispering, “What’s happening to me?”
“Obey, Vika.”
With a cry, I leaned toward his fingers. I sucked them, tasting myself. My eyes rolled back in my head, my hips grinding against his other hand.
In an agonized tone, Dmitri bit out, “They’re watching you. Staring. Show them how much my wicked girl loves to come.”
I mindlessly licked his fingers as he withdrew them.
He clamped that palm over my mouth. With his other hand, he shoved his fingers into me and vibrated his grip—