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I shudder. My core is hot and aching with need.

Bodhi laughs low, head tilting as he drags his gaze down my body. “God, you’re fucking beautiful like this. Filthy and defiant.” He slides his hand between my thighs, presses the heel of his palm against the soaked crotch of my pants. “You’re soaked, little storm.”

I arch against Matteo’s hold just to spite them both, but there’s no denying it. I hate how wet I already am. I’ve been wet since the first breathless sprint through the trees. Since their eyes locked on me like prey. Since I knew they’d chase. And catch. And ruin.

Matteo jerks the chain once more, sharp and claiming, as he moves to the side.

Bodhi’s already taking his place and unfastening my pants, tugging them down my legs with a grunt and a wicked grin. His hands are rough, greedy, dragging the soaked fabric away and baring me to the cool air.

“No panties?” he murmurs. “You came out herebeggingto lose.”

“Shut up,” I snap.

But Bodhi just laughs again and leans forward, pressing a kiss to the inside of my thigh—hot, open-mouthed, biting just enough to make me gasp.

“Fuck, she’s so wet already,” he growls. “You like the game, don’t you? Youlovelosing.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I grit, trying to close my legs—but his hands are there, spreading them wide, holding me open.

“Tell us,” Matteo says, reaching down to slide a finger along my wet entrance, pushing it just inside, teasing, “what do you want,little storm?”

My body betrays me.

I moan.

Low. Desperate.

Bodhi laughs again, louder this time, and bites at the swell of my breast—enough to sting, enough to bruise. Matteo adds another finger at the same time and I cry out, not in pain—but inneed.

“Say it,” Matteo urges, voice like silk dragged across a blade. “Say you want us, say you’re ours.”

“No,” I pant, writhing under them both. “I want—”

But then Bodhi thrusts two fingers inside me alongside Matteo’s without warning, and my sentence dies in a moan. Matteo tightens the chain again—just enough to steal the air and make my vision starburst white.

My world becomes sensation: the dirt under my back, the bite of cold metal, the heat of their hands, the way they both crook their fingers just right.

“Not going to last long, princess,” Bodhi says, grinning down at me. “I can already feel you tightening around my fucking fingers.”

He’s right. I’m already close.

And that pisses me off more than anything.

My back arches off the forest floor as their fingers work in tandem, dragging slick, obscene sounds from my pussy while my throat strains under the chain still tight around it. Matteo’s watching me like a wolf watching prey weaken.

“You want to come?” he asks softly. “Beg.”

I snarl up at him, even as my body bucks against their hold. “Fuck. You.”

Bodhi chuckles and twists his fingers deeper, rougher. “Already working on it, princess.”

They remove their fingers without warning. I cry out—desperate, angry—but it only earns me a sharp slap to my now empty pussy. The sound echoes in the trees. The sting is immediate, dizzying.

“You don’t come until we let you,” Matteo says, voice pure command, even as he lets go of the chain. “Understand?”

I nod once, sharp and furious.

“Good girl.”