Page 72 of Their Dark Rose

“What did I say?” He thrusts into me. “Don’t”—push—“really”—shove—“care.”

My back scratches against the rough bark. My skin breaks, and that, too, feels so good.

Transcendental.

“Keep complaining.” Finn pushes a finger to my mouth. “Give me a reason to punish you, pet. Please.”

I twist the mask at my side, to the nothing behind it. There’s no doubt in my mind he’ll follow through with his threat.

“Eyes on me,” Mason roars. It’s the most out of control I’ve ever seen him.

His intensity could burn down a building. He pounds into me, and I take him as he takes all the bad stuff away.

“What’s that look?” His fingers dig into me, leaving marks. His marks. “You think you love me?”

The sudden darkness has alarm bells blaring through me.

I do love him. A sentiment this masked man—or men—will punish me for.

“I—”

Mason cuts my explanation short by pinching my clit. I see stars, my fingernails clutching into his coat from the sharp, unexpected torment. Despite how bad I hurt all over, I orgasm.

My head thrashes back, my hair getting entangled in the tree. Flames lick my skin. There isn’t a living soul in the cemetery to hear me cry and plead.

Not like it would matter. Not like I have control over my body.

“Such a good girl.” Mason’s low growl shakes me to my core, elongating my orgasm.

I’m still clenching and unclenching on him when his hot cum shoots inside me. When he lets out a feral, “Fuck,” releasing himself into me.

I expect more praise from him. I’m wrong.

He pulls out of me, flipping me to face the tree.

“It’s my cum leaking from you.” He slaps my ass, and my body jolts. “For the time being.” Another slap, same place. “By the end of the night, you’ll have all of us dripping down your thighs, little girl.”

Without a shred of warning, a different pair of hands grab my ass.

“Hands on the tree, pet,” Finn orders me. “Or I’ll fuck your face into it. Leave my own brand of marks on your soft cheeks.”

A depraved part of me wants him to. To wake up tomorrow with scratches on my face and remember how I got them.

Falk is the one who isn’t having it. He manhandles me so my palms are flat on the bark, then pulls viciously on my hanging nipple. Probably for ever considering what I had in mind.

“I guess I’ll just have to mark you another way,” Finn says, parting my ass cheeks.

He pistons his hips forward, ripping my breath from me as he bottoms out. Unlike Mason, he doesn’t wait for me to adjust to him. He rocks hard and fast, his balls slapping on my pussy.

“Like this,” is Finn’s one and only warning before the first spank lands on my ass.

A second, third, fourth follow. His cock and hand move in unison, each thrust accompanied by his hand connecting to my ass.

Sometimes he hits the same spot, sometimes alternating between left and right. Leaving his handprints on me, a pain I’ll feel well after tomorrow.

“Your hurt looks so good on you, plaything.” Falk leans on the bark next to me. His cock is heavy in his hand, a pearly drop wetting the tip.

“I want to see that pain.” Finn slows for Mason to turn my head to him. “It belongs to me.”

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