Page 34 of Daddies’ Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies #19)

HARPER

W hen I step out of the bathroom, I approach the three of them in the tiny bedroom, and they look at me the way I’ve been dreaming about. I know what’s on the menu tonight, and it’s me.

A delighted shiver runs through me.

Grant nods me onto the bed. “Now’s time for your punishment, yeah, baby girl?”

I sit on the edge, quaking with anticipation. I love the way he keeps himself so calm when I know that tension is twisted up higher than mine.

Oliver turns and settles himself in a chair across from the bed, ready to watch what they have planned for me.

Anticipation buzzes across my skin.

Trent steps forward, tipping my chin up as he nears so that I look up his muscled torso to meet those dark eyes. The length of his lashes is unfair. It’s the only bit of softness to his face. Other than when he looks at me sometimes.

The tension hangs before he nods me further back on the bed. I scoot myself to the middle of the mattress when he puts a hand up for me to stop.

Trent has a rope cuff in his hand. “Lay back.”

I comply.

“On your belly.”

I roll, putting my hands behind my back before he can ask. He leans in and binds my wrists together. All snug and secure.

The bed dips up by the headboard, and I can barely see Grant settling himself there. The pain on him is evident but only around the edges.

He nods at Trent behind me, and my skin tingles as I wait for whatever that nod was for.

Big hands smooth up the backs of my thighs, cup my ass. Then the touch is gone.

A smack lands on my ass, and I jump part way off the bed with a muffled squeal. The burn sends heat pumping through my center, coiling there. Another smack adds to it. And another. Until I’m squirming against the coverlet.

Trent yanks me back in place, leans over my back, and puts his mouth to my ear. “We haven’t even gotten started yet, princess. You ready for more?”

I nod and feel his smile pressed against the back of my neck.

“Good.”

I’m lifted by my arms and propped between Grant’s thighs. He tears open his pants, cock finally free and bobbing for my attention. My mouth waters. I love sucking his cock.

This is not a punishment. It’s a reward, and he knows that. But it’s something we both want.

Trent props me on my knees and pushes my face toward Grant’s crotch. “Open.”

My mouth pops open at the command, and I stare up into Grant’s eyes. His good hand is fisted around the base of his cock, and his nostrils flare. He likes how much I enjoy this. How good I am at it.

His glistening tip hovers just out of reach, even when I stick my tongue out for a taste. Trent’s fingers wrap in my hair, grip firm and steady.

“You want to please your daddy?” Trent asks, cold and in control.

“Yes,” I rasp out.

“Tell him.”

A few heartbeats full of tension, and I lick my lips.

“I want to suck Daddy’s cock.” I try again, the tip of my tongue just making contact with his slit. Grant lets out a short breath, and Trent drives me down over Grant’s cock.

I gag as he hits the back of my throat, but I swallow him down, letting the tears gather and fall from the corners of my eyes. He spreads me open, and when I let myself go—when I concede control—I get nothing but pleasure from it.

I want to be used. To turn my brain off and let them have control of me. To fulfill their own dark desires with my body.

I want to come until I can’t feel anything but pleasure. I need to escape into it.

Trent adjusts me, and Grant’s invading cock becomes an easy slide.

Once I’m pliable, he hands me over to Grant, who thrusts himself into my mouth at a steady rhythm. And Trent’s hands slide down my hips, yanking up the hem of my skirt to expose my drenched panties.

Those wide fingers rub me none too gently, splaying me open beneath the fabric. I moan around Grant’s cock.

The panties don’t last. Trent peels them off my hips with precision, then his fingers are there, coating themselves in my slick arousal. He plunges two into me.

My moan is louder this time, my core tightening against the invasion.

Trent knows just where to reach, where to tap and rub to make my thighs shake. God, it’s so good. Trent isn’t shy about making me come. The onset is strong and quick. I’m coming apart so sweetly.

Grant grunts above me. I must be clamping down on him, too. I peer up at him blearily.

His other hand, on his injured arm, comes up to sweep across my forehead and down my cheek. God, I’ve never felt so cherished before.

Trent twists his digits inside me, finding a new spot, a deeper spot he has to dig for. Piggybacking on my orgasm, the pleasure jumps, spirals. The thumping of Grant’s hips against my lips, his cock against the back of my throat…

My body reacts without my say so. Hands tugging on my restraints without fervor, body twisting as I search for a new release.

Trent’s strokes grow more focused—not urgent, he’s never urgent—he’s got intent. A goal he’s working toward, and he’ll get it. He always does.

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Every muscle tightens and twitches, and I jerk from the onslaught of my new orgasm and sink into the bliss of prolonged pleasure. Of knowing it’s going to last for a long, long time.

From the grumbles coming from Grant and how his cock twitches in my throat, I know he’s going to come. I hum around him, soothed by how Trent pets my ass and shaking thighs.

I take every drop of Grant’s cum as he spills into me, moaning when I’m lifted off his cock. I wish I could take him in my hand, prolong that pleasure, but there’s no option. No need.

Trent twists me around on my back, my head hanging over the edge. His cock is free, bobbing above my mouth, but he bends to whisper into my ear, “All right?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

His smile is small but deadly. “Good girl.”

His thumb strokes my cheek and jaw, and I open for him before he has to ask. He doesn’t hesitate, taking my mouth with his cock. Choking me with it until he finds a comfortable angle.

Big hands spread my thighs at the other end of the bed, and a hot tongue slides up my slit. Grant eats me slow.

Everything becomes languid pleasure, peaking and ebbing. Grant wrings two more orgasms out of me.

Trent frees himself from my throat. “God, I need her pussy.”

Grant lifts his head from between my thighs. “Take her pussy then.”

Like a business exchange. Calm. Accommodating. Grant even helps to haul me up over Trent’s hips as he leans back against the headboard, helping him impale me on his cock.

Fuck, it feels good.

Trent’s chest is bare now, his shirt open. Pants gone.

I’ve still got all my clothes on. And they’re tight. Restricting me almost more than the binds around my wrists. It should be suffocating, the way the fabric twists around my body, how my dress is tight around my waist, but it’s so reminiscent of the way Trent wrapped silk ropes around me.

An erotic experience that should make me feel vulnerable, but it makes me feel safe.

I peer up at him, lashes still wet and sticky from tears. He brushes them away with his thumbs and leans in to kiss me gently.

Grant is behind me, both hands on my hips. His touch firm. How he’s moving his arm is beyond?—

His cock presses against my ass and my thoughts abandon me. The twinge of pain makes the pleasure bloom.

My moan is as long as the length of his cock.

I’ve never been this full before. Sure, I’ve had them all. In every hole. But not at once like this.

Once he’s seated inside me, they both work together, holding my hips, thrusting in tandem. It’s not rough or hard. Not yet.

It’s still a lot. So much.

I wish I was bare between them. Wish I could feel their skin and their bodies and their hands, even with mine tied, I want their skin against mine. Their sweat and the sweet slide.

But God, the way their cocks glide…I lose myself completely to it.

Trent kisses me, long and slow. He and Grant work my pussy and ass with the intent of driving me absolutely crazy.

Hands yank up my shirt, unbuttoning it to finally expose some of my skin.

Cold breaches my slick flesh. Trent always has a knife on him, and he slips the blade under the center of my bra.

A quick flick pops, and the cups pull at my breasts before he peels it free.

Releasing me has his rough, warm hands caressing and squeezing them.

Weighing them in his hands and rolling my nipples until my core quakes.

Grant’s hand is in my hair, arching me back, and I look up at him the moment before Trent’s mouth sucks in my flesh.

The look Grant gives me is dangerous. He should on all accounts be such a scary man, but he’s not. Not to me.

“So fucking beautiful, baby girl.” His words are a murmur as he drops a kiss to my forehead. “Even more so when you’re wrecked.”

His thrusts start to overpower Trent’s, his hips slapping against my ass.

I’m blissed out. Cherished. Made to feel so fucking good.

They take me until they’ve filled both my holes with cum, and then they leave me in the middle of the bed, hands still tied behind my back.

I wriggle the little bit I’m able, my head falling to the side to see Oliver still propped in that chair, legs spread wide, slumped low, his gaze pure black flames. He taps his mouth with his knuckles as the seconds tick past.

I huff in distress. I need him to touch me. Even if it’s to punish me.

Finally, he draws himself up and looms over me. His pace is glacial. But his knee dips into the edge of the mattress as he peers down at me, cataloging every bead of sweat, every red mark, every drop of cum between my legs.

Soft fingertips traipse over my flesh, from my navel up my stomach, between my breasts, around my throat. His hand closes there, but he doesn’t cut off my breath. Instead, he leans in to kiss me. Softly. Once. Before his touch resumes its perusal of my abused body.

He unbinds my wrists and massages them gently, pressing new kisses to the bruises forming there.

Then his arm hooks around my waist, and he hoists me into the position he wants. My back propped on the few pillows still remaining on the mattress, my legs spread wide for him to properly inspect me.

Long fingers prod my core, slipping in easily. They hook and drag across my inner walls, and I swear, he’s scraping Trent’s cum out of my pussy until I’m aflame with want.

Then he does the same with my ass, fingering, digging, dragging. Cleaning me out.

It’s erotic and intimate, and I want him to fill me back up.

Oliver’s mouth descends on my clit. My body jolts, and pleasure floods in. The animalistic moan he makes against my folds has me shaking already.

You’d think I’d grow numb to the pleasure after undergoing the onslaught I have, but no—I’m sensitive. It’s far too easy for me to build. For me to crash and explode. It literally takes him minutes to have me crying out in bliss.

Fuck, the darkness in his gaze when his head lifts tells me we’ve just begun.

The brush of his clothes sparks my nerves as he crawls up me. His cloth-covered hard-on presses into my swollen folds, and Oliver’s pupils blow wide at the way I whine and shiver. It’s so good, but it’s so much.

And not enough.

I wiggle under him, my fingers seeking his skin under the hem of his shirt. Heat greets me, but it pauses his movements.

I know this game all too well. I trace his navel, tug at the front of his slacks, and let my hand drop back to the mattress. Only then does he resume.

“So impatient.” His soft voice is at odds with the intensity of him.

He grinds his covered cock into me again. And again. Until I’m writhing with my need, leaking arousal all over him. It prompts a defined curve at the cover of his mouth—a giant smile for him. Smug and satisfied when he reaches to unleash himself on me.

The teasing prolongs as he brushes his tip through my folds. I’m so close to begging him for what I want. The words are on my tongue when he finally sheaths himself in my core.

My back arches from the sharp pleasure.

Oliver is so different in the way he takes me. Still, he keeps total control over me, but it’s the quiet kind. The kind where every move is meant to dominate me.

When I find the strength to lift my hands and brush my fingers across his ribs, he tips, bracing on one elbow to cover my throat with his palm. A firm press, enough to make my eyelids flutter, and it mixes with the grinding thrusts of his hips. My pleasure has me at his mercy.

Oliver’s gaze never leaving mine, he is with me every second, watching, gauging, holding me down. He unearths new levels of bliss like the hunter he is. He only asks one thing of me—not to fight my response.

So I don’t. I’m open and bare. Raw around my heart. I need him to soothe it.

There’s only one way. And because I give him what he wants, he reciprocates, letting me see the pleasure as it takes him over.

He tightens his grip, and I’m spiked through with the rush of an oncoming orgasm. He gives me his fervor, his need, the most he ever lets himself lose control, and we crash together.

Oliver takes a moment to savor me, before I’m handed around again until sleep begins to take a firm grasp on my overactive brain.

They carry me to the shower, keep me upright in the spray. I’m not sure who asks if I want to get my hair wet, but it’s with a bleary laugh that I say yes. I need a full wash, even if I can’t control a single muscle in my body.

They’re thorough with me, but gentle, and I come again with someone washing my hair.