Page 56 of Gilded Fake

I want to tell them to stop, to tell them it’s too much, but to my utter humiliation, I feel myself obeying instead. My walls clamp down on Maverick, and the tension in my body becomes an arch of rippling pleasure as my head falls back on Colt’s shoulder and Maverick drives into me so hard my knees leave the bed. I feel a rush of wetness coat his cock when I cum, and he lifts my other breast this time, his teeth clamping onto my nipple.

I buck between them, a scream tearing from me as my core grips him again and a tingling rush of pain moves back from my nipple, through my breast, into my belly. He bites down again, grinding his cock into my clenched center.

“She likes a little pain, don’t you, princess?” Maverick asks, chuckling and pulling back to grin at me, traces of blood on his teeth.

“Don’t tell me what she likes,” Colt growls behind me. He grabs my thighs, lifting them from the bed and making my weight fall forward against Maverick. Colt bears down on his friend’s shoulder, forcing him back on the bed. Maverick adjusts his position, letting Colt shove him flat on his back, his inked chest rising and falling with his rapid breaths.

“I can feel your cock inside her,” Colt snarls, driving into my ass with hard, harsh thrusts.

“Yeah, you like that ladder now, don’t you?” Maverick asks, grinning up at Colt. “Maybe next you’ll let me put it inside you instead.”

“Fuck you,” Colt snaps, shoving my head aside and slamming his hands onto the bed on either side of Maverick’s head. I spit out hair, shocked at suddenly being thrust aside. He drives into me harder, as if he’s trying to fuck me off Maverick’s cock, which is still buried inside me. Maverick braces his hands on my upper thighs, gripping my hip crease to hold me pinned in place while Colt unleashes a storm of fury into my body, battering me like a hurricane determined to leave nothing but devastation behind.

I bite back tears, squeezing my eyes closed so I don’t have to see the used panties under my face, as discarded as the top half of me. I try to keep my body relaxed, to be as limp as I was under the twins. I know it’s not even about me, not really. He’s in some battle of wills with Maverick, staring into his eyes, while I’m outside the cage of his arms, pushed aside. I might as well not be here, especially when he lowers onto his elbows, crashing his mouth down on Maverick’s. Maverick wraps one arm around Colt’s neck, lifting his head from the bed, kissing him back passionately, fiercely, hatefully.

His other hand holds me pinned while they use my bottom half to sheathe themselves, ignoring the rest of me as if I don’t exist. Maverick is punching up into me in short, erratic thrusts, while Colt’s have grown quicker and harder as he draws out only a few inches before pounding me into Maverick with another punishing blow into my very depths. Their mouths battle, grunts and groans and growls rumbling through them as they try to tear through me to get to each other.

This is new, as new as the tenderness, but instead of feeling cared for, it’s degrading in the most shameful sense, more so even than what the twins did. At least I was in the room for that. Now I wonder if they’ve forgotten me altogether. Their hips grind together with bruising force, their teeth clashing so hard I can hear it. It’s dirty and rough, so much masculine energy I’m swept up in it for a minute, especially when Maverick lets out a guttural grunt, and his cock expands inside me, the hardware straining against my walls that are already stretched painfully around his girth. I want the ground to swallow me in one gulp when I feel my core fluttering in response, thirsty for the cum he’s spilling into a condom inside me.

As if that weren’t bad enough, Colt seems to sense it somehow, and he reaches between our sweaty bodies and yanks at my clit piercing so hard I see stars. I buck under him, my walls clenching hard enough to make Maverick utter a sharp sound of surprise inside the passionate kiss still locking them together as thoroughly as the grip of my two holes. Colt grinds in, his cock widening and making me cry out in pain, and I feel his wet heat spreading deep inside me. A shuddering sob wracks my body at the same time as a weak, pitiful, humiliating orgasm that Colt’s fingers drag from my unwilling ragdoll body.

He lets out a long, low moan into Maverick’s mouth, his hips jerking involuntarily with the spasms wracking his body as more cum squeezes into my depths. My core is sore and battered and throbbing erratically around Maverick’s girth. He grinds and shudders under me, his own aftershocks making his cock pulse inside me as it slowly becomes less rigid, less unbearable.

After a long minute, Colt lifts himself off me. I lay twisted to one side under Maverick’s armpit, where he left me when he started fucking Maverick and forgot I existed. Now he spreads my cheeks and groans.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he says, thumbing over my stretched, swollen flesh before opening me wider with a thumb and finger to see his cum pooling inside my gaping entrance. He slides the middle finger on his other hand deep inside me, scooping his cum with it when he draws out. He leans down, his mouth closing over my opening, placing a gentle, conciliatory kiss on the stinging skin. His tongue caresses me sensuously, and he sucks a few times before pushing his tongue inside, slowly fucking it in and out with his cum. I shudder with pleasure and shock, frozen in mortification as he eats me out for a minute before rising. Then he crawls over my back, leaning down and sealing his mouth with Maverick’s, spilling his cum into the other man’s mouth.

At last, Colt rolls off me and into the pile of laundry, flopping down on his back, spent and magnificent as he reposes like a king. Maverick slides out from under me. I sink into the used panties, as limp as a dead thing. Finally, he rolls me over and pries the hair off my face, soaked with tears and sweat.

“Shit,” he says. “This is why I don’t fuck with good girls.”

“Good girls?” Colt asks, sitting up on his elbows to look at me. I wish they’d just left me there to die of humiliation on my own, because it’s worse when they’re paying attention to me than when they acted like I was just one of those blow-up fuck doll torsos that only go from knees to navel, as if that’s the only important part and the rest of a woman is irrelevant.

“What’s wrong?” Maverick asks. “Were we too rough on you, princess?”

I draw in one last, long shuddering breath before forcing myself to harden, closing and battening the tattered hatches around my heart one more time. “You need to leave,” I say, my voice coming out croaky and hoarse. “Both of you.”

“That’s how it’s going to be?” Maverick asks, standing and peeling the used condom off his softening penis.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice stronger now. “That’s how it’s going to be. I told you I didn’t like anal. I told you I didn’t like to be shared.”

“Yeah, but you have to admit it was hot getting pounded like that,” he says, picking up his jeans from where Colt dropped them. “I felt you cum at least twice.”

“I. Don’t. Like. It,” I grit out, each word deliberate as I glare at him. But I know he’ll never understand, that he can justify it the same way Duke does, that I gave in, I didn’t say, “No, stop, you’re hurting me.” I didn’t say it because he’d have tried to talk me out of it, to talk me through it, to dismiss it the way he’s dismissing the protests I was brave enough to utter before he continued anyway. In his mind, I came, therefore I wanted it. It really is that simple.

Maverick shakes his head and shrugs into his black t-shirt. “Thanks for reminding me why I don’t fuck with the girl-next-door type. All this drama over a little anal.”

“It’s not drama,” I say, my limbs shaking as I sit up and wrap the sheet over my chest, as if the flimsy cotton can shield me from his casual cruelty, his complete indifference. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t know how long I was silent, how much courage it took to even tell him I didn’t like it.

“Hey,” Colt says, touching my leg through the sheet. “When did you say you didn’t like anal?”

“Right before you did it,” I say, glaring at him.

“You did?” he asks, looking back and forth between me and Maverick, clearly confused. I try to remember if I said it to him, if he was too fucked up on the handful of pills he took to hear me, or if I only whispered it to Maverick, and he never heard my protests at all. But I can’t remember. It never mattered before—they’re all the same, they act as one, a dangerous wave of dominance that breaks me, forces me into submission no matter what I want or like.

“Yeah,” I say, because it doesn’t matter if he heard it or not. I can’t trust him or Maverick or anyone. I should fucking know that by now. “So you need to be getting your clothes on too. Both of you can see yourselves out.”

“Or what?” Colt asks. “You gonna hold a gun on him and make him clean me up after I fucked your ass? Or does that kind of thing only get you going when there’s a hint of incest to titillate you?”

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