Page 4

“ G et over here,” Wes repeats, his tone commanding. “Crawl to me, dead girl.”

I drop to all fours and crawl across the cold surface toward him. As I make my way up his legs, I lay my palms against his shins and rise to my knees. My fingers swiftly work on his buckle. He stands, adjusting his jeans just enough to free his cock from his black briefs.

Fuck. Is there anything about this man that isn’t perfect?

I bite my lip, savouring the sight of his swollen head, his shaft adorned with thick, bluish-green veins, and the drop of pre-cum glistening on the tip, begging to be licked.

Bold, colourful tattoos cover the tops of his thick, muscular thighs, extending down to where they hide beneath the black denim. Dragging my nails lightly across the ink, I lick my lips and waste no time wrapping my mouth around him, drawing a groan from him.

My hands press into his thighs as I suck the tip with fervour, flicking the head with my tongue. Then I take him deeper into my mouth, zoning into his noises and the way his chest rises and falls for pacing cues. He tastes like dick should taste, like sweat and skin, and a distinct muskiness that has me salivating. It gets me instantly wet. Sliding my tongue around his shaft, I moan as he eases into my mouth inch by inch.

“Mm, your mouth feels like fucking heaven,” he says as I experimentally work my mouth around him, sliding my tongue along the underside of his shaft. I slowly take him to the back of my throat, pulling back repeatedly, building momentum before popping off, a trail of saliva connecting my mouth to his cock.

I spit again, deliberate and rough, as I fist his length, stroking him with my hand while I suck on his tight balls, circling them with my tongue.

“Fuck, Tatum,” he hisses. “Such a good little slut for me.”

My stomach somersaults as warmth gathers between my legs, his praise driving me to give him the best head of his life. My only goal right now is to make him feel incredible.

He pulls out my phone again. I freeze, popping off while keeping one hand wrapped around his length and the other on his thigh. “Let’s make a movie, dead girl. Be my star,” he says, his voice low and compelling. “I won’t show your face,” he reassures me as his finger swipes the screen. “Don’t worry, baby. I promise I won’t.”

I’m not entirely sure how he’ll keep my face out of the shot, but his offer is so enticing that I find it hard to refuse. I nod quietly, accepting his request, and dip my head between his thighs. I flick my tongue over his slit, savouring the beads of pre-cum, before sliding him deeper into my throat.

“Fuck, Tatum," he hisses. "Your mouth looks so pretty wrapped around my cock.”

The noises this man makes should be illegal. Throaty, guttural, and saturated with so much lust that all my focus is on bobbing my head up and down his dick, wringing out those sounds again and again until he's dripping down my chin.

I’m too focused on Wes that I fail to notice the hands threading through my hair, gripping the base of my scalp, and guiding it onto Wes’s wet dick.

I freeze, my mouth still full as their presence sends chills across my spine. I’m too afraid to look, yet too proud and inquisitive not to.

“Keep going, baby. Keep sucking,” Wes affirms, his voice strained. “He won’t touch unless you ask. Call red if you need to.”

Though I have a pretty good idea who's standing behind me, I trust Wes's judgement. Still, I’m wary. Despite my desire to be shared, I dial back my enthusiasm on his dick. What was meant to be exceptional head is slowly becoming mediocre at best.

Wes shifts backward, sliding up the bed to meet the headboard, and I scramble up to join him, my mouth aching with emptiness as I position myself between his legs, eagerly taking his cock between my lips.

The mattress sinks behind me, signalling the stranger’s presence. Slow, measured breathing fills the air, and a mysterious, heavy scent—a blend of something dark and sweet—makes me tingle with anticipation. Despite the fear heightening my arousal, I'm too scared to turn around.

I clench my thighs, imagining his gaze tracking over my body, drinking in every inch of my skin, lingering on my glistening pussy. I’m aware that I’m fully bare, folded like a lawn chair with Wes’s dick in my mouth, my pussy and ass on full display, aching with need. It’s almost pathetic that with one passing thought I’ve switched from being scared to being so turned on that I’m completely open to this stranger doing whatever the heck he wants to me.

As my mind runs away with me, my tongue elicits another needy groan from Wes’s beautiful mouth. My mind conjures an image of him, his sharp jaw clenching, then softening to form a perfect O , a hint of mint and smoke on his breath.

Desperate for stimulation, I push my hips back, grinding them against thin air as I moan around Wes’s cock.

“Fuck.” The word gusts from his mouth as he lifts his hips, fucking my mouth mercilessly, every thrust stealing my breath as I claw my way underneath Wes’s hoodie, digging my fingernails into his skin. His thrusts become shallow, legs shaking as he drives into my mouth. The stranger behind me fists my hair, holding my head still as I await my reward.

Hot, thick spurts of cum shoot across my tongue as Wes’s warm pleasure floods my senses, driving me wild. I hold him in my mouth, savouring every pulse as he begins to slow, before swallowing every last drop of his seed.

Wes falls back onto the bed. The stranger’s touch softens, their gentle strokes caressing my hair before retreating. My first instinct is to escape, but I’ve come too far to quit now. I need to see how Wes’s master plan unfolds, but he’s too busy basking in the afterglow to care.

Rude.

I close my eyes and take a cleansing breath, gathering my composure. With a steady resolve, I turn around to confront a mirror image of the man I've just given my mouth to, complete with mask, black jeans, boots, and gloves—only this one is shirtless.

And he’s beautiful.

Colourful tattoos span the entirety of his body, from his well-defined torso to his lean, muscular arms. Thick veins thread the ink, the colours melding together as they creep up and disappear into the black fabric of the mask covering his face. He's slightly shorter than Wes, yet he still towers me. And if the tent in his jeans is any indication, it’s that his slim frame doesn’t match up to the monster in them.

The entire time he’s been here, he hasn’t said a word. I don’t even know what he looks like, yet I’m so freaking horny at the prospect of two of them succumbing to my every desire that all I can think about is what his dick tastes like.

I look up, my eyes meeting those black holes that I’ve become accustomed to, wishing I had X-ray vision to watch his expression as my fingertips glide across my tight nipples.

“Are you going to tell me who you are before I suck your cock?” I say, feigning innocence.

But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me, feeding my unease.

“Trick won’t answer. He's non-verbal,” Wes chimes from behind.

A man who doesn’t speak? Sounds promising.

“Okay, so how does this work?” I ask, staring at the mask as if willing him to respond. “How are we supposed to communicate?”

“He knows your safeword,” Wes says. “He knows everything I know about you.” He pauses. “You can bow out anytime. Whatever you need.”

It feels intrusive and unfair that this stranger knows my deepest, darkest desires, yet I can’t stop staring at the tent in his jeans like it’s a wild animal in captivity. And all I want is to set it free.

“No. I don’t need my safeword,” I say, climbing to the edge of the bed to kneel in front of him while he stands there waiting to get his dick wet. “I want to play.” I palm his arousal and glance up at him through my lashes. “Use me, Trick .”

I take his silence as acquiescence and unzip him, his chest expanding, rising, and falling as I tug down his jeans, then his briefs, his cock springing free mere inches from my mouth. Such a pretty beast.

More colorful ink covers his muscular thighs, descending past his knees and shins; he’s a fucking work of art. I dip my head and lick the teardrop muscle above his knee. He shudders, his dick twitching in response. I drag my fingernails across the intricate ink, then wrap my hand around his length.

“Give him your mouth, Tatum. Make him feel good,” Wes says, palming my hair.

I stick out my tongue, on my knees like I’m waiting to receive holy communion, closing the distance between my mouth and Trick’s cock, and lick the bead of pre-cum leaking from his slit.

“Good girl,” Wes says. Trick grips his shaft, tapping the tip onto my tongue before pressing into my mouth. “Our needy little slut.”

I take teasing steps to accommodate Trick’s impressive cock, stroking him with my tongue as he eases himself in, inch by inch. Sweat, skin, and a distinct sweetness mixed with his unique musk coat my tongue, making me ache between my legs. I grip his shaft and take his length deeper into my mouth.

I can’t believe I’m doing this—giving head to a total stranger while another one watches. These guys could be actual serial killers for all I know, but lust knows no boundaries. I’d be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t fully embrace this experience.

Wes drags a finger along my slit, making my breath hitch and my pussy ache. “Mm, so fucking wet,” he says. I shudder, arching my back, wanting more, while Trick’s thick cock repeatedly hits the back of my throat.

A moment later, Wes joins Trick. My eyes instantly land on the thick, hard muscle of his inked torso, to the sheen of sweat glistening in the dip between his pecs, and I follow the trail down his navel to his swollen cock.

I pop off momentarily to marvel at the absolute fucking gods in front of me before Trick presses into me again. If my mouth wasn’t already open, it would be gaping at the sight of Wes’s shirtless physique.

Never in all my life have I come across a man who could reach full mast ten minutes post-orgasm. Wes is the fucking unicorn I didn’t know I needed.

Spit pools at the back of my throat as I suck harder, savouring Trick’s taste as he drives into me with reckless abandon, ruthless and wild.

“Do you like how his cock tastes, baby? Does he taste as good as I do?” Wes’s words are playful, lacking any trace of jealousy. He’s clearly enjoying himself—and so am I.

I am such a good little slut.

An incoherent sound brushes past the obstruction in my mouth, affirming Wes’s question. He fists my hair, guiding my head as Trick’s thrusts intensify, punching air from my lungs and hitting a spot in my throat that triggers my gag reflex.

“I love the way you choke,” Wes growls, absently stroking his cock. “Keep going, Tatum. You’re being such a good girl for us.”

If I could smile smugly, I would. It’s almost surreal, having these two all to myself—like I’ve hit the pinnacle of sluthood, and I’m absolutely revelling in it.

Trick withdraws. My jaw goes slack, aching from the loss, before he plunges his cock back into my throat. He doesn’t hold back, but I’m too mesmerised by him to care. The tension in his chest, the divots and the flexion in his lean muscles as he jerks into me, unapologetic and reckless, fucking every coherent thought from my mind. I want to lick every inch of his muscle until he’s clawing at me, making me bleed as he silently begs to wreck me.

Wes wraps a hand around my throat, tightening his grip. The force of his fingers makes my eyes want to close, a heaviness settling in my body. Just as I start to drift, he eases up and releases his hold, pulling me back from the edge.

Trick withdraws indefinitely as Wes shoves something wet in my mouth, and it takes me a moment to realise it’s my underwear. Except, it isn’t my arousal on the fabric.

I fight to resist swallowing the liquid down, but with all the saliva accumulated in my mouth, mixed with this new and unfamiliar, slightly sweet liquid, I squeeze it out.

“Hold it in your mouth, baby. Get a taste for it.” Wes’s fingers close around my throat, while his other hand grips my cheeks, pressing them to encourage me to swallow.

This is the most reckless thing I’ve ever done, the most dangerous game I’ve ever played, and with two complete strangers, nonetheless.

“Do you need to tap out?”

So many thoughts run through my head, but I can only focus on one.

I want this.

“No,” I slur, sticky liquid dripping down my chin as I fight to keep my eyes open.

I swear I can almost feel the smile in his voice, sensing their relief. He squeezes my artery, the crushing pressure from his fingertips making my head go light, a weight building behind my eyes.

My pussy clenches, arousal dripping down my thighs as my lungs struggle for air. My eyes flutter open and closed, just enough to make out the two identical, blurry masked figures staring down at me, as if I’m something fucking special. But I'm not, and they'll figure that out soon enough. The thought lingers until it doesn't.

Until it all goes black.