Page 39 of Bears Not Included

Until Mason, standing on my left, uses the buttered-up fingers of his right hand and strokes my bottom hole at the same time as Deacon reaches under me, running his fingers down my dripping wet slit.

I try so hard to escape their touch, knowing my treacherous body is going to betray me again, but I’m useless against them.

Before I can formulate any words of negotiation, Mason thrusts his two fingers inside my asshole until this time I feel his knuckles against my flesh. My piercing roar at his intrusion into my body is quickly capped with an uncharacteristic moan as Deacon slips his two fingers into my pussy.

The fullness threatens to splinter me apart, and the fear of it happening blasts through me until it reaches my eyes and I start to sob. Despite the soreness in my pussy, wetness wells up inside me and drips down Deacon’s fingers.

Callen strokes my hands with the pads of his thumbs softly, tenderly, and commandingly, breaking me away from the excruciating pressure against the walls of my womb and the thinness that separates my pussy from my anus.

Mason swirls his fingers around in the extremely tight confines of my bottom hole before he uses his left hand and reaches for my drenched clit. Deacon settles even deeper inside my pussy, thrusting his fingers in and out of me. The sound of my wetness echoes around the room, drumming to the beat of my humiliation.

Tears fly freely from my eyes. My body throbs mercilessly, both in pain from having my asshole penetrated and the disturbing pleasure from having my pussy filled. I have no more fight left in me.

Mason increases the rhythm of his touch on my clit, corrupting every sane thought I have and opening up the dark side of me—the side I can’t control.

I can’t let this happen. Every time they do this to me, they take away a little more of my armor. I have to stop them. I have to say what they want to hear.

Chapter Nineteen

Livia

I force myself to say the words.

“I’ll... wear my wedding ring... at all times.” I stumble over the words in a clumsy mess, but I manage to get them all out in the name of self-preservation, desperately thinking they’ll release me.

They don’t.

“Please, don’t…” I beg, but it’s too late. An orgasm rises from the deepest part of my soul and rips through me like a tornado.

I claw at Callen’s hands now, and he lets me, afraid I’m going to be swept away by the violence of my climax, while part of me still wishes I could undo it if I fight hard enough against it. And yet, I know I’m battling an unconquerable war.

Wetness gushes out of me at the height of my orgasm, and I feel my flesh contract and spasm against both Deacon’s and Mason’s fingers embedded in me.

I still can’t believe how intimately these men have touched me and how I’ve fallen for it each time. I don’t recognize myself anymore.

In hindsight, I should have just said those words in the first place and saved myself this utter humiliation of having an orgasm because they had spanked me, put honey butter in my butt, and touched my pussy.

“Good girl,” Callen says as he releases my hands and Deacon and Mason step away from me. I can’t help but notice the marks I left on his hands with my nails, and I’m torn between saying sorry or saying he deserved it. I choose to say nothing instead.

I try to stand on my own two feet too quickly, and I sway against Deacon’s body. His touch makes my pussy ache anew, and I push away from him like he burned me.

My cheeks hurt so badly that I want to throw buckets of ice on them to cool the smoldering spots of mortification as I catch Mason first lick my wetness of his finger before he takes a napkin and wipes the honey butter off his other hand.

What kind of men are they?

“Does that prove we can make you come anytime and anyhow we want?” A grin spreads over Mason’s face. I don’t know whether to hang my head in shame or scream at the top of my lungs.

I walked into that one, claiming I was clearheaded and that they couldn’t make my body come again, only to fall apart instantly.

Why? Then it hits me.

“I’m a virgin... I was a virgin. I’m too inexperienced to have any control. If I wasn’t a virgin—”

“If you weren’t a virgin, the man who took what was meant to be ours would be strung to a post, wearing his intestines on the outside of his body.”

Deacon’s words startle me, and a cold chill rides up my spine at the graphic violence they entail.

I close my eyes, suddenly tired. If I want to live, I need to get away from these men.

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