Page 43 of Rider Daddies (Venom Vultures MC #6)
Whenever I come, I’m thinking about the general idea of sex with someone I love. Or, if I saw a handsome man on the street earlier that day, I’d rub my clit thinking about them.
I look at the image again. Their dicks are all so big. One has a thick vein running down the length, and another boasts a silver jewel pierced through the tip.
I can’t see their faces. All I see is a bit of torso, their cocks, and some of their legs. They’re all plastered in tattoos, even their thighs.
And I want them.
Even though I don’t quite know the logistics of how this will all work. There are three of them and one of me. Would they have to take turns? Would two of them watch while the other one penetrates me, or would they each have a role to play?
I catch myself in the mirror again, back arched away from the wall.
I slide a hand up to my breasts and dip my shirt down, exposing one.
I tilt my head in the mirror, examining myself.
My vision is hazy, the bathroom walls spinning, but I can still make out the outline of my body in the mirror.
Taking out my other breast, I reach the conclusion that they’re too big to be kept hidden inside of a bra.
I put down the drink for a moment to better hold my phone.
(775) 375-6825: Do you like what you see, sweetheart?
I don’t reply, navigating to my camera instead.
I hold up my phone and play around with a few poses.
First, I try with my panties on, bringing attention to my breasts.
I snap the photo. Evaluate.
No. I want to tease my pussy too, but still get the panties in the shot since I’m wearing lace.
I pull them down and part my legs slightly.
Assess the phone screen.
Fuck, I look hot. Arousal has puckered my nipples. Also, I’m sweating, so my skin looks shiny, like I’ve lathered it up in oil. With the overhead lighting, it’s the perfect shot.
Heart beating in my throat, I bring my spare hand down in between my legs to spread apart my folds.
And then I take the photo.
My body’s reacting like it’s just finished running a marathon, breath heaving. Heart rate sky-high. I thought I wasn’t capable of feeling this aroused.
And I definitely didn’t think it’d be for three silver-fox men.
I come away from the wall, reevaluating the photograph. My legs carry me to the bath, and I land in the tub with a thump .
The booze is well and truly in my bloodstream now, getting carried to my brain. I feel it there, threading through all of the neurons, altering them. Laid down in the bath, naked, I stare at the photograph, blinking, trying to focus my vision.
(775) 375-6825: Sweetheart? We hope we didn’t scare you off.
I click on the message notification as it pings through, and select the mirror selfie.
Send.
Delivered.
Read.
All in the space of two seconds.
(775) 375-6825: Oh, sweetheart. You are a vision.
(775) 375-6825: We’re gonna be fighting over you.
(775) 375-6825: Show us how wet you are. Tease us even more.
Fuck. My pussy has never throbbed like this before. Lying back in the bath, I spread my legs and tease my clit, a moan accidently slipping from my mouth. I’m so horny for them I could faint, although I’m pretty sure I’m already heading that way from the amount of booze I’ve consumed tonight.
(775) 375-6825: We’re all stroking our cocks thinking about you.
(775) 375-6825: We hope you’re tending to your pussy.
Me: I wont all of u to make me cumm.
(775) 375-6825: We can arrange that, sweetheart.
Desire ripples through me. I spread my legs even further, splaying them over the edges of the bathtub. I stick a finger inside. Shutting my eyes, I imagine it’s one of their dicks.
The thought urges me to add a second.
Ping!
1 video attachment.
Here we go.
My fingers slip over the screen, rushing to open the attachment as quickly as possible.
It doesn’t disappoint. They weren’t lying when they said they were stroking their dicks. They each glide their hands over their lengths, moaning.
It might just be the best thing my ears have ever heard.
Their moans harmonize into a symphony.
Oh my fucking god.
I reopen the camera, hit record, and prepare to send a video back, inserting the phone between my legs to give them a close-up.
Sober brain reappears briefly.
Did I lock the door?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
My heart rate plummets, banging like a drum. It’s all I can hear.
Except, the banging no longer coincides with my pulse.
This isn’t my heartbeat. It’s something coming from the room.
I snap my head out into the bathroom to see if anybody has entered. Nope.
I’m about to turn my attention back to the phone when I see the door lurch. Then comes the banging again, accompanied with, “Melissa? Are you in there?”
I hear the noise but don’t quite know what to make of it. The alcohol has delayed my brain. I should move. Remove the phone from between my legs before somebody enters.
But my body hasn’t quite caught up yet.
The door bursts open, revealing Natasha’s shocked face. She takes in the sight of the phone between my thighs, then my flushed face.
She rips the device from my hands.
“Oh my fucking god, M.” Placing the phone into my purse, she finds the half-full glass of booze. She takes one sniff and retches. “What the hell did you put in this?”
Tongue-tied, I shrug.
A great force presses on my eyelids, weighing them down. I close my eyes, but the room spins. Or is it my brain doing laps in my skull? I can’t tell.
I force my eyes open, feeling too queasy with them shut.
But the spinning continues. It’s like I’m on a carousel.
A fast one.
“Fuck.”
I somehow manage to pull my panties back up, and then clamber out of the bath.
“What do you have your tits out for?” asks Natasha’s voice. It sounds distant, like she’s not in the room, but when I squint open an eye, I see her face inches from mine, creased in anger. “You sent them something, didn’t you?”
“It was only faaair,” I slur. “They sen’ me something firrrs.”
She catches me before I topple into her. “Jeez, M.”
The spinning worsens, my head dizzy and unable to focus.
I grip the sink and heave, trying to get a hold of the world, but it goes on turning.
I feel sick to my stomach.
And that’s when the first round of vomit explodes out of my mouth.