Page 30 of Their Dark Rose

To make the decision for me. To take me and deliver me from this intolerable pressure.

I’m so torn I want to scream.

“See you at dinner, Briar.” Falk pushes off his chair.

My eyes shoot up, but it’s too late.

A minute later, the door to my room is closed softly behind them.

I’m all alone.

The pressure in my core is too great to stand a second longer.

After sneaking a glance to see if the door is really closed, I crumple the paper. I toss the incriminating poem as far away from me as possible.

I’m desperate for something much more basal than words.

To be touched. To hurt until I cry when my orgasm hits.

I work the button of my jeans, yanking down my fly. Spinning on my knees, I move on the carpet until I face the desk.

This way, it’s easier to fantasize they are still there.

Slamming my left hand on my desk, I slip my right one beneath my panties. Pinching my clit where the pressure hurts the most. Slipping my fingers into my pussy.

“Fuuuck,” I whisper as my wetness coats my fingers.

I rub myself, pinch myself, twist my clit, pretending one of the men bites me like the beasts they are. I stroke and press, chasing my orgasm. It doesn’t work.

Furious, I glance around the desk and me. For their pen, their jacket. Anything they might’ve touched and has them embedded in it.

They’ve taken everything with them.

But then my eyes lock on a treasure. My travel mug.

Its base’s diameter isn’t too long. I can fit it in my mouth.

I can pretend they haven’t left me. That instead of going away, they acted like the vicious men they are. Yanking down their flies. Whipping out their cocks.

Taking turns on my mouth. Making me drool, spit, and cum.

I’d be so dirty. My throat, my collarbone.

Dripping in them.

Grabbing the handle, I open my mouth wide and wrap my lips around the tumbler.

“Mmm,” I moan. My thighs tighten, a new wave of wetness trickles out of my pussy.

I need more, though. Pressing the top of the tumbler to the desk, I use it as leverage so I can bob my head.

Falk would demand to have me first. His fist in my hair would hurt. His words would hurt more. Finn would be impatient to fuck my mouth next. Mason would wait, and when his cum came out of my nose and tears streaked my cheeks, he’d call me his good girl.

He’d pat my head. All of them would.

They’d be mean and sweet. They’d make me…

They’d make me…

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