Page 56 of Crushing Clover

“Stop overthinking and let it happen, gorgeous.” Something rubbed against me over my underwear, and I inhaled at the unforgiving hardness of it. I caught sight of what looked like a short black baseball bat but had no idea what it was.

“What the hell is that thing?” I managed to gasp as he slid it up and down between my thighs, parting my pussy lips despite my panties.

“It’s the billy club we keep behind the bar. Don’t worry—it’s never been used on anyone.”

I tried to get it away from me, but I only succeeded in rattling the cuff on my ankle.

He slid the club up and down my underwear-covered pussy, distracting me from the way Rush was cutting slits into the diaphanous fabric over my belly.

Lucky was trying to nudge the club into me with each slide, but he wasn’t moving aside my panties.

Instead, he spat on it, adding more natural lube to the synthetic stuff he’d already doused me with.

“Just take my panties off,” I whined, finding myself wriggling and squirming against the thing.

Lucky brought his mouth down on my clit and sucked, the satin of my panties thwarting his efforts.

It was good, but not good enough. It was delicious torture—almost his tongue, almost his fingers, almost the billy club. “Lucky please!”

Saint was torturing my nipple, almost chewing on the damn thing, making me whimper in distress. Rush’s knife moved lower, parting the last of the fabric over my torso with a final, decisive slice, leaving my sweat-slicked skin the only thing left to cut.

“Do you want me to cut you, Clover?”

I was shaking with the frustration of hands and mouths, teeth and blades, the hard violence between my thighs not giving me quite what I needed. My own arousal scented the air, and I was making sounds that would have made a porn star blush.

“Yes! Fuck, please. Fuck me up. Stab me. I don’t care—I need it…” I babbled, fingers clawed, trying to get at them, muscles bunched against the restraints.

Rush gasped, dragging his knife down, bumping over ribs.

At first, I felt nothing, then there was an itching, burning sting.

Sweat trickled into the cut he’d made, but it was a release.

I bucked my hips against Lucky’s mouth, and his teeth dragged over my clit, through the satin.

My begging whimper filled the cavernous room, but I was too far gone to be embarrassed.

Saint bit down on my nipple hard enough to make me scream, Rush’s knife sliced again, Lucky tore my panties away, the sting made more delicious by his desperation as his mouth closed over my now-exposed, aching clit.

The twisting heat inside me exploded, and my body arched under their mouths and hands.

Lucky doggedly worked a few inches of the far-too-big club into my pussy, fucking me with it, forcing my body to accommodate its impossible girth.

Rush swept his tongue up the bleeding cut he’d made along my ribs, his shoulders hunched.

Having him draw and taste my blood felt almost more intimate than sex.

He choked on a moan, lips parted against my skin.

Saint swore under his breath, and Lucky whispered something dirty.

I was unbuckled from the bar even faster than they’d tied me down, but my pussy was fluttering around the too-big club, and I was brainless and writhing with desperate need.

They pulled me down, the club fell out of me, and we ended in a tangle on the floor.

Pulled between them as they fought over who got to fuck my holes, I begged them to hurry.

Rush pushed into my pussy, groaning, only to have Saint force his way in, too.

They were under and over me, and having them both squeezed into one hole so quickly would probably have been impossible if it hadn’t been for Lucky using that stupid club on me first. Saint shifted over, and Lucky pressed the slicked head of his cock against my asshole.

I wanted to stop them, but I needed them not to.

“Lucky—” Saint cautioned.

But then he was pushing in, too, stretching me to the point of impossible fullness.

It felt as unbearable as I would have imagined.

Lucky couldn’t get very far inside me, but still, it ached. I was stuffed beyond my mind’s ability to process anything but oh fuck and oh god and owww.

I whimpered against Rush’s cheek, and he caught my mouth with his, which still carried the lingering taste of my blood.

There was a hopeless tangle of legs, and then we were a writhing mass of limbs as they moved in and out of me with no rhythm or finesse—only grunting male need vying for space, with me as the unfortunate receptacle.

Not soon enough, Saint pulled out, either taking mercy on me or finding the position too awkward.

He moved up behind Lucky and did something that made him groan loudly, then he was fucking Lucky—each of his thrusts pushing Lucky’s cock hard and deep into my ass.

The three of them found a way to make it all work, and I anchored myself to Rush, digging my nails into his shoulders hard enough to make him grunt.

Despite the discomfort, I whined into Rush’s mouth, finding an angle where I didn’t feel like I was being impaled in a bad way, where my clit would rub against his groin.

The nipple Saint had half chewed off scraped on Rush’s shirt, feeling like fresh hell and heavenly torture.

They pounded into me, and for a long, long moment my orgasm hovered, threatening, feeling like it would tear me apart.

“Fuuuck, yeah,” Rush groaned as my body clamped down on his and Lucky’s cocks.

Lucky gave a sexy gasping whine, and I could feel Saint pick up the pace behind him.

Lucky’s cock gave a hard twitch in my ass then my orgasm flung me into a freefall of white-hot, fluttering spasms—pleasure and torture combined.

One by one, they followed me over the edge, triggering a chain-reaction of shivering orgasms that went deliciously on until I eventually collapsed against Rush, too exhausted to move, let alone complain.

We lay in a messy, sordid heap, in various states of undress. Lucky was as naked as I was, somehow, and he was nice and warm. Sweat had trickled into my eyes, and they stung, but it was drying now.

“You’re going to have to mop again, Luck,” Rush mumbled. “I’m covered in enough bodily fluids you might have to scrape my ass off the floor.”

“Can I do it tomorrow?” he mumbled. “Saint isn’t even out of my ass yet.”

Saint chuckled and pulled out, making Lucky swear at the suddenness of it.

“You should know better than to use me as an excuse.”

“Why can’t Rush do it?”

“It’s his birthday.”

“And I’m at the bottom of the pile,” Rush pointed out.

“It’s probably not your birthday anymore, if you check the clock.”

“Making the birthday boy clean up after the party would be rude,” I mumbled, my brain mushy enough to squeeze through a sieve.

“Oh, are you volunteering to do it then?” Lucky asked sourly.

I laughed weakly. “Between the extra holes Rush carved into me and the fact that I had three donkey dicks shoved into my orifices, my guts might spill out when I get up.”

“Someone has to clean this before the front-of-house staff come in tomorrow,” Saint pointed out. “And it’s not going to be me. Maybe the two of you can work together to lick it up.”

“Oh my god,” I grumbled. “Get off me, and I’ll find the mop.”

“I thought you’d say that.” Saint leaned down to kiss my ear.

I shivered, and Lucky and Rush both groaned at the way my body clenched.

“We should get up before Lucky gets hard again,” Rush mumbled.

“Oh, trust me—he’s still hard.”

Behind me, Lucky gave a chuckle and started to fuck me again.

Fuck.

At this rate, these men were going to kill me.