Page 9 of Three Wickedly Bad Neighbors and a Very Grumpy Girl (Three Guys and a Girl Volume 2, #8)

? Chapter Nine

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A very

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S elf-preservation kicks in.

“Wait just a minute,” I shout. “This is wrong. You can’t take my underwear off me. It’s insane.” I’m fighting for my life here, kicking my legs despite my wrists being bound to the legs of the table.

“I’m warning you, if you do, you’ll find them wet, and you’ll think I want you. And yes, you three are very handsome, and of course, every female will feel the same—”

“Did you say you’re wet for us?” Sullivan asks, his voice carrying a hint of gruffness and a growl.

“Yes, and you don’t want to see that,” I respond as Gray steps in front of me. I’m only half aware of what he’s doing. “It’s not nice. You’ll be completely turned off, so just pull my panties back up and—no, no, no,” I continue, but two things happen.

Gray is removing the bindings on my wrists, and Sullivan and Porter are taking off my underwear.

Wetness from the fabric dots my thighs, which I try to squeeze shut, but it’s all in vain.

They force my legs apart and drag my underwear off me.

Freed from the material confines, my clit throbs more intensely, and more wetness seeps from me.

I have no authority over my body. I, the quintessential control freak, have lost all control.

I try to stand now that I’m no longer bound, but Sullivan and Porter hold me down.

“Well, I told you, now you can’t unsee it, and it’s all your fault,” I say as I’m bent over the desk again. “Don’t blame me if you have to wash your eyes out with bleach. I told—”

“Avery, shut up,” Gray says, his tone devoid of humor, rough and husky all at once. He slips in behind me again.

I can’t see over my shoulder, but I feel the weight of their gazes on my body. I hear their rough, uneven breaths, which envelop me in heat.

I don’t need to see my behind to know that Porter’s spanking seared right through the cotton of my panties, and his handprints now mark my skin.

Goosebumps spring from my flesh as three warm, calloused hands brush over my reddened skin, recreating the same intensity I felt during the spanking, but deeper, more visceral, and more intimate. I can’t explain it.

Mayhem courses under my skin as their fingers travel to my inner thighs, now slick. I shut my eyes. Can they feel the blazing heat radiating from my center? I could scald their hands if they touched me there.

I try to shut my legs, which is an illogical move. Do I want them not to feel how wet I am, or do I want to trap them between my thighs forever? I don’t know anymore. My defeated whimper soon turns into something that is half gasp, half purr.

Porter’s finger slides over the bead of my clit while Sullivan presses the pad of his finger to my entrance, just between my lips.

Dear God. No one has ever touched me there before.

It’s too intense, so I simultaneously try to move away and crush myself against their touch.

What am I doing? But that question is answered when Gray’s palm lands on my bottom with such striking force that my nerves sizzle.

Fresh wetness seeps from me and coats Sullivan’s finger. Porter catches the pulsing in my clit.

“Fuck,” Sullivan says as he removes his finger, only for Gray to take his place.

“Fuck is right,” Gray replies.

Before my next breath, Porter dips between my soaked folds. A shuddering cold runs down to my bones when they all three withdraw. They’re no longer touching me, which is absolutely right. They should be unsettled by my body’s reaction to them. It’s 100% unsolicited.

I straighten at once, and with my hands shaking, I pull down my dress.

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I could have booked myself into a hotel for peace and quiet since I so desperately wanted it, but no, I chose this. A complete one-on-three war with my neighbors where I devised a diabolical plan to sabotage their party. Why didn’t I stop myself?

From the moment my gaze landed on each of them, I lost my mind. I should leave. Why am I not lecturing them about etiquette and leaving? It’s then I look up and see them licking my essence off their fingers. I’m stunned. Why do I feel so funny?

“Avery,” I scold myself frantically in my mind. “Avery don’t do it. It’s insane.”

They come toward me. I should run. Get into my car, drive into the city, and book a hotel room. Sleep. Turn around. It’s not too late. You’re going to do something colossally stupid if you don’t leave right now.

The heady scent of their cologne engulfs me. I feel drunk, intoxicated. Oh no, it’s too late.

It’s Porter who steps into my space first. It’s Porter whose neck I throw my arms around, crushing my lips to his.

He immediately takes control of my clumsy kiss and turns it into an explosion of fireworks.

My entire body melts against his as he coaxes my lips apart and slips his tongue into my mouth.

Dear god. The sensation, the scorching heat wherever he touches me, is so exquisite I want more. I need more. I need everything. I kiss him so desperately that I don’t recognize this side of me.

Porter releases me, his eyes darken, locking with mine.

“Avery, do you know what you’re doing?” He asks, his voice deep, rough, and thick.

“Yes.”

No.