Page 143 of Look, Don't Touch

“Yes. I do.” I roll my hips in anticipation. “Yes, please.”

“Don’t make her beg.” One of Arlo’s hands leaves my thigh and comes around my neck, pulling me back so he can see down my body. So he can see Hota. “Not tonight.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Sir.” Hota’s mouth is a tongue swipe away from my glistening lower lips. His gaze tilts up, and he looks at us through his thick, dark lashes. Then his tongue slowly lowers out of his pouty mouth.

Arlo and I both hold our breaths.

A mischievous gleam flickers in Hota’s gaze.

Neither of us moves, but I feel like we’re both chanting, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

The wet tip of Hota’s tongue brushes the point of my clit. I whimper. Arlo groans. His chest rumbles against my back. The corners of Hota’s mouth turn up. His tongue slips over my swollen hood once more, then skitters away.

“Keep fucking around, and I’m going to suffocate you in her pussy,” Arlo growls.

“What a way to go.” Hota chuckles and then attacks my needy clit. He sucks it into his mouth and slaps it with his tongue in rapid succession.

I don’t fight this orgasm. I welcome it with open arms. I bathe in the sensations of another man’s fingers inside me and his tongue lashing my cunt, trying his damnedest to send me to the cosmos. I revel in my lover’s hands at my neck and thigh, anchoring me to earth.

I come with a moan and a little squirt that Hota spreads over my pussy.

“The best girl,” Arlo praises.

My hips grind against the thick length stabbing my ass through his pants.

“Nice work, you cheeky bastard.” Arlo stares at Hota for a second before hiking his chin toward the other show in the room. “Now go back to your seat and watch.”

Hota stands with my arousal still all over his face and walks around the back of the other couch. I feel a little…I don’t know what about him walking away. It’s not jealousy. It’s not love or even infatuation. It’s a little like being bereft. Like he should stay here with us.

It’s overridden the second Arlo shoves me forward toward the tips of his knees. His lips are hot on my back, bathing my spine with kisses. I hear the slap of his belt and the scream of his zipper. My insides go impossibly hotter.

“Knees on the carpet. Forearms on the table.”

When I lurch forward and try to use my legs, they’re rubber. I’m glad I don’t have to stand. I sink to my knees and crawl a few feet to the solid mass. It threatens to freeze the blood churning through my veins.

Then my gaze lifts.

Dobson is kneeling on the couch. The woman’s legs are wrapped around his waist, and his huge cock is ramming home while Karris sandwiches her around the back and stuffs his length into her ass.

“Like what you see?” Arlo lifts my skirt, tucks it in my waistband, and slaps his cock to my cunt.

“Do you?” I jerk and moan.

Karris’s and Dobson’s gazes leave their work and shift toward us. Hota’s gaze never left. I swallow at the avid, direct attention on us.

Hota unfastens his buckle, slips his hand inside his pants, and gives himself a long stroke. I can’t see even a hint of his cock. I’m looking too hard. The corner of his mouth turns up like he knows it.

“Fuck yes.” Arlo slides into me as though he’s coming home.

My nipples pucker painfully tight against my top. I slip it down, revealing my bare breasts. I reach back, take Arlo’s hands off my hips and place them on my tits.

The guys look like they’re witnessing a miracle before them. A fucking dirty one. I guess it is a miracle to them. In all their years fucking in front of Arlo, they’ve never seen him touch a woman or anyone for that matter.

Arlo pinches my nipples, bites my neck, and rams his hips forward.

It’s like he sets off a chain reaction. Every man in the room begins to pump as though his life depends on it. As if the fate of humanity hangs in the balance.

The headiness. The hedonism. The arms around me. The thick cock tattooing itself inside me, send me over the edge far too soon. I grab at the tabletop. My fingers scream across the smooth surface. My moan turns into a yell.

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