Page 131 of Their Princess

Who had their hands on me?

Sas? Doubtful, because he’d be pushing me.

It had to be Graff.

I tilted my hips to encourage the touch, chasing the orgasm that was so far away but almost within reach. The finger started circling the erect little nub, and I bucked on the table, whimpering.

When the rope bit into my skin, I hissed, but it only heightened the pleasure radiating from my clit.

And then, the touch disappeared.

I banged my forehead on the table and let out a plaintive groan.

Another slap across my ass brought me out of my frustration. Never, in a million years, would I have imagined how responsive I would be to this treatment. Would it surprise Sas? Graff?

Or . . . Rafe?

Shit, that was a sin. But damn how my jacked-up brain and body wanted all of them. I had to focus on my fiancé and Graff, since Sas had brought the tattoo artist into this little game.

Then, a finger landed just above my clit and stroked backward. I shivered when it crossed the sensitive spot and myentrance yawned for attention as the finger slid nearer. And then, it slipped inside.

“Shit, yes,” I hissed and bucked on the table, finally feeling the stretch my body craved.

My hips raised up and slammed down, banging my lower belly against the edge. I would have a bruise tomorrow from that, but it would be so worth it.

When I settled again, the finger started to move—in and out in long, slow strokes. It tilted backward and stroked against the back wall, then forward, pressing hard against a spot inside that made sparks fire behind my eyes.

“More,” I begged, and the rod crossed my ass again.

My cheeks were on fire from the abuse, which only added to the focused sensations on my body. I gasped and writhed, first uncomfortably and then, I really, really started to like it. I met his thrusts with my hips and pussy as much as I could move.

The hand—whose hand?—picked up speed, driving into and out of me until my pussy walls clamped down.

Then, there was the rumble of an unintelligible male voice. Sas’s, I thought. What was he sayi—“Oh!” I cried out as the size penetrating me doubled.

Thwack!

“Mmmm.. .” I couldn’t contain the sound, no matter how much he spanked me.

But if he was the one wielding whatever that rod was, it had to be Graff fucking me with his hand. I rolled my hips and panted as the pressure built in my low belly.

“Fuck,” I said on a breath, “yeah.”

The deep voice rumbled again, just beyond anything I could hear, and the hand paused.

Another boom of the bass in the voice.

I tried to grind against Graff’s fingers, but he placed a hand on my lower back to still me.

More rumbling bass, like when I’d been waiting outside a nightclub and could only hear the thumping through the walls.

The fingers grew in size again. He must have had three or perhaps four fucking me now. It stretched and pinched until my body adjusted. Then, he—Graff, I was sure now—pistoned inside me. I let out a small yelp as my core contracted and released around him.

I wished they were around Graff’s cock and that I could see in his eyes how he liked when he drew the uncontrollable spasms from my body. But then, I was lost. No more thoughts about who was there and what they were doing. I just soared on the pleasure jolting through my system.

My mouth fell open on a moan, and I came harder than I’d ever come with a toy or my fingers. The thought of both Sas and Graff there, wringing pleasure from my body made the orgasm circle and double and I swear I came again before I could even recover from the first time. My body locked up and as it started to float down, my cunt got super sensitive.

I tried to push forward like, to get away from the assault on my pussy, and I giggled.

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