Page 70 of Savage

I shake my head, but I don’t voice my protests, my complaints.

“I need to get one of those,” Drake says, sighing. He gets up, and I can sense him walking around me. He stands behind me, beside Hunter and crouches down.

I’m lost in a haze. Every thrust of the dildo jostles whatever the fuck they put into my ass, making more burning pain flare up alongside the pleasure. Hunter massages my clit at the same time, and there’s nothing I can do as my cunt clenches around the dildo, driving me closer and closer to orgasm.

“Please,” I beg, tears flowing freely down my cheeks. “Please, I… I…”

I don’t want this.

But I don’t dare say that.

They’re talking, but I have no idea what they’re saying anymore. I just feel it as my orgasm climbs, the sensations pushing me toward the edge—then over it. I cry out hoarsely, my entire body spasming, but I don’t collapse in relief onto the ottoman.

They’re not going to leave me alone. They’re all going to touch me until I can’t breathe. They’re going to hurt me over and over again and steal pleasure from me so they can amuse themselves with my misery.

I cry harder as my climax starts to fade, aware of nothing but the dildo in my cunt and that terribly painful thing in my ass.

“Did she come?” somebody asks.

“Maybe? Man, it’s so hard to tell with women.”

“Only if you aren’t attentive.”

It doesn’t matter which of them said what. They’re all terrible. I sob when somebody tugs on me and forces me to sit up.

Hunter. Hunter is pulling me into his arms, stroking my back, but the dildo and slimy thing are still inside me, and he makes me straddle his lap and rest against him.

“Shh,” Hunter says, stroking my hair. “Take a breath. We aren’t done showing you off yet.”

He sounds more pleased with me than he has in days.

I just want to disappear.

CHAPTER 17

Stef

I stare up at the ceiling without blinking until my eyes burn and I’m forced to close them again—but I open them immediately, because I keep seeing Hunter and those men.

The thoughts transform into that terrible night at Ntimacy, when the men had fucked me over and over until I’d fallen unconscious. I haven’t stopped having nightmares about it. I don’t think I ever will.

The evening had passed in a blur over my climax, and…

I keep remembering my own desperation, my terrible sobs and growing anxiety and—

And the fact that Hunter Savage just didn’t fucking care as he broke me down again and again and again.

I don’t know how it’s worse this time.

He didn’t let the other two touch me, even though they certainly wanted to. He kept me all to myself, like the toy I am, and he’d been pleased as I’d dissolved into tears and panic.

Nothing else I do pleases him, not for long, and he’s always quick to remind me of that fact.

He only wants my misery.

I hate it.

I hate him.

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