Page 59 of Aim Assist

They're both jerking themselves a little as they watch.

I'm going to be dragged to hell by Satan himself for what I'm contemplating. No confessional can save my soul. There's no way this kind of sinful debauchery is okay in the eyes of the angels in heaven.

Right now? I don't care.

I've always liked little thrills.

When Liam twists and pulls on my aching nipple, I fight to keep my eyes open, staring directly at our viewers.

There's no game, no stream, that has ever given me the high I feel right now, as my breath shortens, coming out in rapid pants. I reach behind me, looping my arms around Liam's neck, arching my chest toward his hand as I roll my hips into every thrust of his fingers.

Everything's finally coming together. I can feel the heat in my belly coiling tighter. Every time he squeezes my nipple, there's an electric pulse of need that has me gasping and writhing, begging for more.

Liam's voice is pure passion in my ear as he whispers encouragement, and I lose myself in him, in the feel of his hands, the sound of his voice.

"Come for me, Amy. All over my fingers. Let them see you squirt."

And I do.

Oh, fucking hell, I do.

I swallow my scream, and it ends up more like an unsexy, squeaky groan as my entire body tightens. The next time his fingers slide home, I'm done. There's a warmth that gushes out of me with every thrust of his fingers, leaving all my tense muscles until I'm a hazy mess under the eyes of three men.

If I were poetic, I'd talk about all the stars bursting in my vision as my body explodes from the onslaught of desire and wicked temptations of being watched by strangers.

But I'm not, so I'll just say it straight.

I'm wet. I'm sweaty. My thighs are soaked. I can feel his hands slick against my pussy, cupping it in a warm embrace that affords me the slightest hint of privacy even as I'm on display.

Legs wide open. Feet hanging in the air, on either side of the chaise.

I'm panting little breaths to bring oxygen back to my lungs, and I'm spent.

Both men look a little dazed as they watch me, and I can appreciate the feeling. I am, too.

Did I do that?

Did that happen?

Did I let him finger me to orgasm in front of two random men?

The only saving grace I can give myself is that they're off to the side of us, not straight-on staring down my cooch.

And yet I still don't feel embarrassed. Maybe it's because Liam's holding me.

"Show's over, boys," he says, and their eyes jerk to him, off my body, limp as a well-cooked noodle.

So well-cooked.

They leave in a rush of embarrassment and erections that have yet to die down, and I snort a laugh as I watch them go.

Liam rests his chin on top of my head. "You really seem to enjoy live-streaming."

Liam

I was about half a second from losing it in my pants like a virginal teenager, and I'm about thirty seconds from grabbing her limp body and throwing it over the table before fucking her until she drops.

I would, too.

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