Page 62 of Filthy Rich Santas

He keeps fucking me with his fingers, thrusting deep inside and curling them inside me, applying pressure to my G-spot in a way that feels incredible.

“Oh fuck, yes,” I repeat, writhing on his hand.

It’s not always easy for me to get there from penetration alone, but somehow, that doesn’t seem like it will be a problem. Not when these three are in charge. Not when I get to give up control like this.

“Good girl,” Tristan praises, thumbing my clit. Then he pulls his hand away again. “But this is your show.”

He doesn’t even have to encourage me this time.

I’m already riding the wave of the first orgasm when Ryder groans, “You’re so fucking hot, love. Do it. Give us another.”

I obey without thought, grinding down on my clit and coming again with a choked sob.

“Fuck yeah.” Beckett’s voice is gravelly. “How did that one feel, little menace?”

I drag my eyes open, not even sure when they closed. “Amazing.”

His eyes flare with heat, and his hand twitches in my direction before he controls it.

“You deserve amazing,” he says. Then he smiles, slow and a little bit evil. “But I’m pretty sure I heard Tristan tell you we need at least three. Can you come from nipple play alone?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“With amazing tits like that, my guess is hell yes,” Ryder says with a grin. “Push them together.”

I do, my skin flushed and overly sensitive, making it feel so good to handle myself this way.

“Now thumb your nipples. No pinching. Not yet. Just rub them for us.”

I do what Ryder tells me to as Tristan’s hands tighten on my hips, his breath hot and ragged against the back of my neck.

“God, yes,” Ryder grunts, rubbing himself through his pants. “Keep going. You’re sexy as hell like this.”

“She’s sexy as hell all the fucking time,” Beckett says, his hand moving again like he’s struggling to maintain that iron control over himself.

Then his control breaks. He curses, shoving open his pants enough to free his cock.

“Fuck,” I whimper, my mouth watering as I stare at it. “Beckett…”

“Put your fingers back in that pretty mouth,” he growls. “Get them wet, then tug on your nipples the way Tristan was. Imagine he’s sucking on them. Imagine it’s me. Do you want to feel my lips on your skin, Lana? All over your skin.”

My breath hitches. “Yes. Oh fuck, yes.”

I’m panting, and with the way he’s guiding me, it really does feel like he’s sucking on me when I roll them between my wet fingers. I tug on the little buds, imagining Beckett sucking hard on them while the other two fuck and finger me.

But that’s not going to happen. Not yet. I can tell not one of them will touch me until I give them what they want. Another orgasm.

But I don’t know if I can get there with nipple play alone.

“Please,” I gasp, pinching hard enough to send a bolt of pleasure through me. “Please. I need to touch my clit. I need something in my pussy.”

“You sure about that?” Beckett asks. “Because I don’t think you do. Not this time.”

The commanding timbre of his voice awakens something new inside me. It’s the same something that attracted me to kink in the first place.

Domination.

And the sweet release I’ve never felt with anything else when I give myself the freedom to submit to it.

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