Page 51 of The Bounty

I can never share that with him, though. His ego will grow as big as the moon.

Speaking of Killian…

I remember his expert kisses, the way his tongue gently danced with mine, taking his time.

Even though he’s insufferable, I wonder what he would feel like between my legs, his tongue licking delicate circles on my clit.

Just like he did with his fingers.

I wonder how Dylan would do it.

Stop thinking about it!

I pull off my blouse, the fabric brushing against my nipples painfully, and toss it onto the floor.

My cunt clenches, desperate for another release.

Try as I might, I can’t stop thinking about them.

About the three of them.

My fingers slip between my thighs, and I gather the wetness there, gently circling my clit. I gasp, fighting back a moan as a shockwave of pleasure jolts through me.

I’m slipping under, succumbing to my arousal, before my rational mind can stop me.

The fantasy plays in my mind like a movie, my fingers working myself higher and higher.

I told Dylan I’m not a toy.

But I could be.

Dylan’sblonde head is between my legs, while Killian stands over me, his cock in my mouth, choking me with it…

Brock hate fucking me against the wall, biting my gland as he slams into me with his hips, my mouth hoarse from screaming…

Me on my hands and knees, Killian inflating inside me while Dylan comes on my tongue…

The orgasm isviolent,my back arching high and small gasps leaving my lips. My body shakes as the fantasies intertwine until I imagine all three of them claiming me, tying me to them forever.

Eventually, my panting subsides as I face reality, naked under the sheets.

Fuck.

I need suppressants, and soon.

Either these are wearing off, or they’re not powerful enough for my situation.

I flop onto my stomach and groan into the pillow, cursing myself for being attracted to all of them.

How often do I need to remind myself that I don’t want to be here?!

Cleaning up, I change into a black sweater and jeans, frustrated when I see the price tag still on the denim.

I don’t need seven hundred dollar jeans, as comfortable as they are. It’s obvious one of them picked them up on Rodeo Drive, and it’s a little unsettling that they have both the inseam and waist size correct.

If I could access my bank accounts for one second, I would pay all of them back.

I made more than enough at my job, and I feel so helpless now, stripped of normal activities that everyone takes for granted.