Page 89 of Filthy Rich Santas

I moan, arching up against his mouth as Ryder matches his pace, sucking my nipples and stroking his hands all over my body, making me ache to be touched everywhere at once.

And with two of them focused on me, it makes it feel like I am.

Ryder kisses his way back up my throat and nips at my earlobe. “You’re getting close. You love this, don’t you, being held down and taken care of? Forced to come for us as many times as we want?”

I sob, nodding desperately.

“Say it.”

The order lights up the dark places inside me and sends a wave of need crashing through my body.

“Yes!”

“Not good enough,” Tristan says, raising his head and pinning his eyes on me. “You heard Ryder.”

“I do. I love this,” I gasp, squirming, aching, desperate.

Tristan rewards me by sucking my clit into his mouth and flicking my piercing with his tongue.

I wail, then gasp as I open my eyes and realize that Beckett has come to the bedroom door. He’s leaning against the frame, watching me with a laser focus that has my core throbbing.

“I love being held down,” I whisper, talking directly to him. “Being touched. Coming for you. For all of you. I want… I want all three of you to use me as much as you want.”

“Just two for now,” Ryder chuckles, rolling my nipples between his fingers.

Tristan lifts his head again, twisting a little to see Beckett behind him before he looks back and shares a look with Ryder.

“Beckett isn’t ready to join in yet,” he says, smirking.

“Is he, um, is he into voyeurism too?” I ask breathlessly.

Tristan chuckles. “Oh, I’m sure he’s enjoying watching you, but no. That’s not really his kink.”

“He’s a Dom through and through,” Ryder says, both of them clearly goading Beckett on. “He likes to be hands on, likes to edge and push the limits of pleasure.”

“Oh fuck,” I whisper, staring straight at Beckett. “Yes.”

I can’t manage anything more articulate than that, I just know that I want all of it, everything, from all three of them.

Beckett’s jaw ticks, but he doesn’t move. I don’t feel rejected, though. I can’t. Not when he’s staring at me so intensely that it makes my heart race. His eyes are hard and his expression is fierce and primal in a way that has me imagining exactly what his hands and lips would feel like on me.

He would take me apart.

I gasp, and heat flares in his eyes.

“It’s not you, love,” Ryder murmurs, sliding his hand up my side and opening the clasp on my bra between my breasts, baring me completely to Beckett’s gaze.

“Right now, Beckett’s just being stubborn,” Tristan agrees.

I don’t know what he means by that, but I don’t have time to decipher his words, because the next thing I know, Tristan is pushing my legs open even wider and fingering my pussy until I’m sobbing.

“Damn, you’re incredible,” he says, giving me a wicked grin. “But you can do better. Let’s show Beckett what he’s missing out on.”

He dips his head down without giving me a chance to make sense of that, either, and then his mouth is on me again and I lose all sense of time.

Everything melts away, until there’s only the sensation of Tristan’s mouth and Ryder’s hands on me, the sounds of their voices, their low, teasing laughter and their soft, filthy words.

And Beckett’s heated gaze.

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