Page 120 of Rut Bar

Glancing out the window, I see that traffic has come to a complete stop. His smirk turns into a Cheshire grin as a full understanding of the depths of his depravity hits me. I never should have agreed to this.

“Only the bra,” I bargain. “I’m not taking my shirt off. That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“What are you gonna give me if I say yes?”

“What do you want?” It’s always give and take with him. Like he’s some naughty fey who has to strike a deal.

“I want to practice your deep throating some more when we get home. Sound good, baby?”

“Fine.”

He grins, his hands roaming. They trip up my back and undo my bra through my shirt. “Deal.”

He gets my bra unhooked one-handed through my shirt and—dammit—that’s so fucking hot. I let him pull the straps down my arms. It’s tossed aside and his hands are on me the second I’m braless.

“You’re the worst,” I mutter without any real heat. My face is uncomfortably hot.

“But you love me anyway,” Anthony says, his tone blithe. He palms my tits through my shirt, pinching the nipples until they ache.

My heart flutters. He’s right. I love him. All three of them. I never thought it would happen to me. But this is right. It’s good. Real. The last eight weeks have been the medicine I didn’t know I needed. With them, I’m not some deranged, damaged, broken omega. I’m exactly who I’m supposed to be so I can be with them, and all of that pain was worth it because it brought us here to this.

“So beautiful,” Anthony says as his rough hands knead. “So fucking perfect.” As he tweaks my stiff nipples. “And mine.” The sensation zips straight to my throbbing clit. He rucks my shirt up and leans, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses along my collarbone. My breasts. He sucks a nipple into his mouth and lightly bites until I’m breathless.

All of my concerns about being watched by the people in the surrounding cars disappear. Anthony works me up to a fervor. His lips kiss and his teeth nip along the side of my neck. When he sucks my scent gland into his mouth, the dull pressure makes me moan.

Each hollow-cheeked pull of his mouth makes my channel clench. I’m eager to be filled. Desperate. Brendan and Jamie turn in their seats and watch as much as they can while we inch along in nearly standstill traffic.

“Fuck, I need you. Stop teasing me,” I pant. “Anthony, please.”

He lets my neck go with a wet pop and ignores how I cover myself, pushing my rucked shirt down.

“I love the way you moan my name like that,” he sighs. “I love when you tell me you need me. Love it when you touch me exactly where I need you too.”

Anthony takes my hand, putting it exactly where he wants it. His jeans are tight over his bulge. I stroke him through the denim, enjoying the hard length of him. Tracing his shape. Loving the way he fills my hand. There’s a damp spot where his head is leaking, his arousal soaking into the fabric. I drag my thumb over the flare of his head, scraping the denim with my nail and savoring the way he moans.

“That’s good, baby,” he praises me. “Take me out. Stroke me. Make my cock hard for you. It’s yours.”

I’m not as talented at one-handed clothing removal as he is. It takes both of my fumbling hands to get his button undone and his zipper down. I pull the metal tab down, careful not to catch him in the path of its teeth. It’s not surprising that he’s bare underneath them. Anthony wouldn’t want any extra layers between us to slow him down when the mood to take me strikes him.

His cock fills my hand. It’s warm and heavy. I grip him firmly and stroke, letting my fingers bump over his flared head and smear his pre-cum over my knuckles. His veins bulge and I squeeze him harder, work him faster. His hips rise to thrust and meet my tugs.

And then he stops me by grabbing my wrist and prying my hand off his ruddy length. “That’s enough, baby. I’m nice and ready for you now. Now be a good girl and come ride this cock.”

I hold on to his shoulder and throw one leg over him. “I had to be half-naked, but all you have to do is fish your cock out?” I ask, goading him. “How is that fair?”

Anthony’s hand lands on my ass with a sharp crack that’s quickly followed by a rush of warmth. A burst of slick gathers along my folds.

“What’s not fair is how bad I need that pretty pussy on my cock. Now, get settled on Daddy’s lap where you belong or I swear to God I’ll tug you outside by your hair and bend you over that hood so everyone can watch me fuck your needy cunt.”

His threat makes my clit throb, but I don’t actually want to end up in jail. “You wouldn’t dare,” I whisper in his ear, my lips brushing against him. I wrap my arms around his neck and get into place.

“Don’t test me, baby. I’m at my fucking limit here with your pussy sliding over my cock like that. Don’t make me do something Brendan’s gonna make me regret.”

Brendan chuckles from the front row, and I bite my lip to subdue my smile.

Getting positioned in such a cramped space is a challenge. Thankfully Jamie’s vintage van is roomy. It has to be to fit his surfboards inside where the third row’s been removed. Our bench seat in the second row is basically a loveseat without arms. I don’t know if this is quite what Volkswagen thought people would do on it when they designed it in the seventies, but who knows? Those were wild times.

Anthony braces me as I straddle his lap. I tighten my arms around his neck so I don’t fall off. He reaches between us and fits his cockhead at my entrance. I’m drenched for him.

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