When the kiss ended, she reached out for Osopa. His kiss was as passionate, more forceful, and she clung desperately. Mine. Mine. Mine. Her soul screamed it.
Next was Yorso, and Tina pulled at him as she fell onto the bed, bringing his weight down on her. She touched him where he’d enjoy it best, growing excited as he gasped her name and became hard against her rubbing palm.
They were all there at once, pulling at her dress, stripping it from her. Eager hands moved beneath her underdress, slipped inside her bra and panties. They found her wet, and she opened to them, excited as they touched all the wonderful, wicked places; her breasts, her clit, her ass, her pussy.
“Wait.” Tukui ignored Osopa’s snarl as he pushed the Nobek aside. He smacked Yorso on the shoulder, interrupting the Imdiko’s sucking on Tina’s nipples. “Damn it, I said wait.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Yorso yelled, his face flushed.
“Shut up.” Tukui’s attention riveted on Tina. “My Matara, why are you doing this? Because you don’t have to. You can say no, and we’ll still be your clan.”
Tina froze, though Osopa’s fingers buried inside her made her want to writhe. She rolled Tukui’s question around in her head.
You can say no, and we’ll still be your clan. Could she? Should she? It would be sensible to confirm she had nothing to prove to them. Yet she was aroused, and sensible was the last thing she wished to be. Putting aside her terror that she’d lose the stability they offered, she discovered she did desire them. What they did was good, and there had been too little of that in her life.
“I’m not your sex slave.”
“Ancestors, no. If you don’t wish to have sex, we’ll respect that.”
“You’re serious? Even though you’re—even with that?” She glanced at his obvious erection.
His concerned patience never wavered. “I want you. More than that, I want you to want me too. It’s no good if you don’t.”
He wasn’t lying. Tina would have bet her life on it.
“I do want you.” She warmed at the admission.
“Are you sure, my Matara?” He spoke with a mix of yearning and worry.
He needed her to be firm with him. Tukui had to be reassured she welcomed what he’d kidnapped her for. Tina would have laughed at the irony if she hadn’t been so eager for him to do those exciting, immoral acts with her.
“I want sex with you. Give me sex, the same as you did before.”
“That sounds like an order,” Yorso said.
He was right. She’d demanded they make love to her. For a moment, she was sure she’d screwed up. Then grins erupted on the three faces hovering over her. Even Osopa beamed at her.
Mine. Forever. No matter what. Tina felt like that princess she’d envisioned herself as in the gown Yorso had shown her—the gown she’d insist on having in blue, instead of green.
“Yes. I command you to give me sex and make me feel good.”
They filled her ears with elated laughter. Tukui stood long enough to bow. “We’re delighted to fulfill your wishes, my Matara.”
“Ecstatic,” Yorso affirmed before returning his attention to her breasts.
Osopa said nothing, but returned to enthusiastically pumping his fingers in her pussy while Tukui spread her folds. His tongue darted over her clit, playing with it. Within moments, she was writhing again.
It was incredible how they explored her, finding all the spots that lit her like a Christmas tree. She loved the sensation of their heated skin against hers—they ran hotter than she did. Especially when their weight pinned her down.
It reminded her of when they’d held her helpless in her cell, her wrists pinned to her pillow, her thighs captured and held apart by muscular arms. That delicious excitement of being vulnerable, of being theirs to enjoy, of being the woman they hungered to possess.
What had been terrifying in theory, when the words ‘sex slave’ had offered visions of being an object to use then pass along to others, was different now that she belonged. For good.
What the three men did now was enthralling, but it lacked that edge from before. It wasn’t taking her out of her head, keeping her from thinking too hard. As much as she enjoyed reaching out and touching them, the idea of being bound or held down an added extra thrill. Was that normal?
“Um, excuse me?”
Three dark heads came up. Three sets of questioning features. “Yes, my Matara?” Tukui responded.