Page 54 of Gilded Fake

“You’ve never done it with us,” he says, pulling my head back and meeting my eyes with his strange, beautiful green-and-gold gaze. “Trust me, princess?”

I swallow hard as he lays back on the bed, pulling me down on his chest. I don’t trust him. I don’t trust anyone because of shit like this. I guess I trusted him a little too much though. I never thought I’d end up naked and helpless with two men again, never thought he’d put me in this position. I’ve been here too many times to think there’s an alternate ending where they don’t get what they want, though. The best thing to do is play along, do what they say, and get it over with as quickly as possible. That’s the key to survival.

“Relax, I’ll get you something to take the edge off,” Maverick says, cradling me against his chest like I’m something precious to him and not just a sex doll. “Dynamo, toss me my jeans.”

Colt slowly leaves the doorway, approaching the bed to pick up Maverick’s jeans. He digs through the pockets, pulls out a pill bottle, and opens it. I notice his fingers shaking as he dumps some pills into his palm before turning away and throwing them back.

Maverick maneuvers his arm in front of me, and I consider jumping off him and making a run for it. But even if I got away, if they let me go, I’ve been around men enough to have no illusions about what the next one would do when he found me running down the street stark naked. At least these guys are the devils I know. Hell, I’ve already fucked them both, so what does it even matter?

“Here, take a bump of this,” Mav says, turning back and lifting the side of his hand for me. A line of white powder stretches from his thumb to his wrist.

“I can’t,” I say. “I get drug tested at work.”

“It’s all legal,” Maverick assures me. “You’ll be fine. Just a little muscle relaxer, some painkiller, and anxiety meds. Snort it.”

He lifts it to my nose, and I hold one nostril closed and obey. I don’t love drugs, but the Dolces shoved enough up my nose and down my throat that I’m not exactly a novice.

“Damn, that was hot,” Maverick groans when I finish the line. He pulls me in and kisses me hard on the mouth. “Now the party’s really started.”

He lays back on my pillows again and pulls my knees up beside his hips, then spreads my cheeks again. I squeeze my eyes closed and tense, ready for Colt.

“Eat her ass while I fuck her,” Maverick says.

I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole, and I’m glad my face is hidden in his chest. I feel Colt’s tongue lathing my crack before teasing the ring of muscle. It slides down, stroking the rim of my pussy stretched around Maverick’s cock as it fills me. Colt’s tongue leaves me, stroking Mav’s cock when it slides out, then riding it back to my pussy when he buries his cock inside it. I whimper, suddenly more humiliated by how turned on I am than scared. Colt moans in response, palming the bottom of my ass, spreading my pussy lips to watch Maverick pump slowly in and out. Then he leans in again, sucking and licking at my ass hole, my pussy, the stretched flesh between, Maverick’s pierced length.

I hate, hate, hate it, and I love it, and I hate how good it feels, how wet it makes me. I’m burning with humiliation, which only makes me wetter. Colt laps it up, sucks the wetness from me, spits it back on my ass and lets it trickle down. Then he sits up, and I see his disfigured, tattooed hand reach over and snag the lube. It’s the first I’ve seen of him since he joined us, and suddenly I feel alone and needy, and I want him to hold me, to be close to me, not behind me where I can’t see.

“Colt,” I whisper.

“Right here, butterfly,” he reassures me, and the bed shifts as he kneels behind me. “Mav, stop moving.”

Maverick obeys, lying under me breathing hard, his hands palming my cheeks, opening them again for Colt. I tense up, ready for pain, but instead of thrusting into me quick like Baron does, punishing me for hurting him, Colt eases a slippery, lubed up finger in just one knuckle deep.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters.

Maverick moves his finger down to join, but Colt knocks it away.

“Let her adjust, for fuck’s sake,” he snaps, sliding his finger deeper. Once he’s past the ring of tight, resistant flesh, I can’t stop his forward progress. He buries his finger to the hilt, then starts to fuck me with it. Every few strokes, he pulls out and circles it around the outside, coating me with lube, massaging and encouraging me to relax.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” Maverick asks.

I nod obediently, sinking into the soft, blurry numbness of the pills. Maybe it won’t hurt when Colt fucks me with his dick, either.

Colt grabs my hair suddenly, dragging me into a sitting position.

“Fuck us,” he growls.

“I—”

“Fuck my fingers and that pierced cock you love so much at the same time,” he orders. “Bounce and moan like a cheap whore, the way you always do.”

His fingers tighten in my hair, and the harshness of his voice in my ear makes my body obey like an automaton. After years of practice, years of punishment for failure, it knows how to jump when someone says jump, without even asking how high. It knows how to bend without breaking, how to keep dancing, even when my mind rebels. It keeps us alive by following orders without asking questions, without voicing opinions, without spilling the protest that rises inside me. I bounce, rising and falling on Colt’s finger and Maverick’s cock, throwing my head back and moaning like I love it.

“God damn,” Colt groans, reaching around to finger my clit with his free hand. “You’re going to be the fucking death of me, Gloria Walton.”

Maverick sits and snakes an arm around me, working a finger into my ass with Colt’s. Knowing Colt can see their fingers stretching me open, my ass jiggling as I bounce, Maverick’s thick cock wrecking my pussy, makes me want to die. I will never live this down. What’s the point of surviving it if I have to die inside every time I see Colt’s face after this?

Being buried alive would be a better fate.

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