Page 65

Oscar nuzzles my neck. He kisses me there, leading a trail to my earlobe before sucking it into his mouth and biting it softly. “Remember when I licked your pussy until you came?”
I bite my lip. Of course, I fucking remember. “Are you trying to turn me on in the middle of a dance floor?”
“Maybe voyeurism is my thing,” he teases, biting my earlobe again. He kisses his way along my jawline and then crushes his hips against me, his cock hard between us.
I almost turn to putty in his hands. “When we get out of here,” I whisper straight into his ear. “We’ll be able to do whatever we want.”
“Get out?”
I step back and look Oscar straight in the eye. “When we escape after I get my revenge.”
Emotions swirl in Oscar’s dark gaze. He blinks a few times before tilting his head. He almost has to tilt it horizontal to get past the beak on my mask, but then he slides his lips over mine, kissing me like he’s pinky swearing my face. It’s a promise. A signed, binding contract.
No one has ever tried to help Oscar selflessly before. But I will. I’m not leaving him behind in a life he never wanted in the first place. I try to hold back thoughts of what we could be, but I see him in the middle of a huge stadium, a college football uniform on with his helmet in his hands. If I can give him that, I will.
26
Oscar, Brawler, and I make use of the freedom we’re given. It takes Brawler a little while to relax, but he does eventually. He doesn’t dance with me like Oscar, but he pulls me against him while we’re sitting. He runs his fingers up and down my inner thigh like he and Oscar have a pact that they’re going to drive me absolutely insane while we’re here. Johnny’s not the only one I have explosive chemistry with. I just felt his first because we’re allowed to touch each other. We’re allowed to take it to the brink whenever we want. I haven’t been given that chance with Oscar and Brawler until now.
Like the nice person I am, I give it back to them whenever I can. “Accidentally” rubbing against their hard-ons. Using my body against them wherever I can.
During one song, Brawler joins Oscar and I on the dance floor. He doesn’t do much but stand behind me, gently swaying, his cock nestled on my ass, but it’s enough to overheat me. Especially since Oscar is grinding against my front. My fingers sink into his ass, and Oscar and Brawler lock gazes above my head. Before I know it, I’m being led up the stairs. “What is this?” I ask, trying to forget the fact that my panties are damp.
“Private areas,” Oscar whispers. “It’s for lap dances and for parties when you don’t want an audience. I’m hoping the rooms will be free tonight.”
My heart jumps in my chest, but my excitement is short-lived. The rooms aren’t free. We weren’t the only ones to have this idea. In fact, the majority of them are spoken for. I catch glimpses as Oscar peels back the curtains just an inch to see if the room is free and then we move down the line after finding each one occupied. Finally, he finds a free room and pulls me into it. I have a hold of Brawler’s hand, so he comes in afterward, making sure the curtain is closed behind us.
“What now?” I ask, breathless. I’m not naïve. I understand why we came up here. In fact, I’m fucking salivating for it.
“Just don’t think, Big Man,” Oscar says to Brawler over my head. “Do.”
He moves forward, angling his head again to kiss me. Brawler’s hot breath hits my neck, and my own breath hitches in my throat. I’m sandwiched between them, their hard bodies pressing against mine. Brawler pulls my dress zipper down, letting his fingers trail behind it over my spine while I kiss Oscar harder for the pleasure. Once the dress is fully unzipped, Brawler moves the straps down my shoulders. I stand straight until the material skims past my hips and pools by my feet.
Brawler’s hands perch on my hips, pressing me forward while Oscar grinds on me. “Christ,” I say, coming up for breath.
Calmly, Brawler unclasps my bra, pushing those straps down too. I reach up, grabbing my bra between the cups and yank down, throwing it to the side until my bare breasts are pressed against Oscar’s Superman shirt. Brawler pulls me back though. He skims his hands over my hips and palms my breasts, his fingers teasing my nipples. “Oohhh,” I moan as my panties soak through even more.
“Fuck,” Oscar growls, biting his lip. “You’re so fucking hot.” He steps back to watch Brawler play with my breasts, fixating on his movements. He raises a lust-filled gaze to me. “How does that feel?”
“Fucking amazing,” I purr, pulling him back to me. His hands move to my hips, then down, edging past the elastic in my panties until his hands skim over my slit.
“She’s so wet, man. So fucking wet.”
He pulls my panties down and spins me, arms banding over my abs while one reaches up to cup my breast. He pulls me back until he sits on a couch, placing me on top of him. He makes sure I don’t touch any part of the couch itself as he spreads his knees and puts my boot-clad feet on top of his thighs, forcing my legs open. “You should check,” he murmurs to Brawler.
Brawler only has eyes for me. His stare takes me in, my peaked nipples, my throbbing pussy. A dim, red light in this room casts everything in a fiery-like glaze.
“Do you want Brawler to check?” Oscar asks, his voice husky in my ear.
I nod, opening my own legs farther, giving Brawler ample room.
Brawler hits his knees, hands running down my thighs. The pad of his thumb passes over my folds, and he curses. “So fucking wet.”
I whimper. This is the hottest thing I’ve ever done, that I’ve ever even imagined. I want Brawler’s mouth on me and Oscar’s fingers teasing my nipples. I lock gazes with the fighter in front of me. “Fuck me with your mouth, Brawler.”
“Oh God,” Oscar moans, pumping his hips into me, his hard cock nudging me from behind.
I move Oscar’s hands to my breasts. “Play with me. Don’t stop.”