Page 117 of Filthy Rich Santas

He means the night I sucked Tristan’s and Ryder’s cocks. When all three of them agreed to explore this with me.

But Beckett held back. He jerked himself off, but didn’t touch me. Didn’t let me taste him.

“Yes. I wanted it. I wanted your cock that night, sir. I’ve wanted it?—”

I close my mouth quickly, my cheeks flushing. I was about to say that I’ve wanted it for years, but that seems like too much.

This is just a scene, nothing more. He wants communication, but not all of my truths need to be shared.

27

LANA

Beckett and I lock eyes,his flaring with that intense fire he usually keeps banked so deeply inside him.

I can see that he wants to know more. He wants to hear what I stopped myself from saying after confessing how badly I want his cock. But he doesn’t push for more than I want to give, and when he accepts my silence and moves on, I sink even deeper into my submission.

It’s easy to do with him, because I trust him.

He keeps a tight hold of my hair, slowly stroking himself in front of my face. “You’ve earned this tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” I whisper. “Thank you, sir.”

“How much of it can you take?”

I lick my lips, my nipples tingling and my clit throbbing like it’s alive. “As much as you decide I deserve.”

Approval flashes across his face, but he tugs my hair sharply, reminding me of what I forgot.

“Sir.”

He smiles. “Good girl. And you’re right, I’ll decide. But tell me, do you want to choke on it?”

“Yes, sir.”

He guides the head back to my lips and rubs it across them, back and forth, while he stares at me. “You’re saying you want to gag for me? That you can take as much as I give you?”

“Yes,” I pant. “Yes, sir. Please, sir.”

“Put your hands on my thighs.”

I do it, my heart pounding as I stare up at him. My hair tickles my bare back, reaching almost down to the top of my ass, and I’m suddenly intensely aware of how I must look from behind, to the men who are watching Beckett use me.

Knees spread, pussy wet, back arched.

And now this. His to use and abuse, my throat his toy.

Begging for it.

“I’m going to fuck your throat,” Beckett promises. “You won’t be able to breathe, but keep your eyes on me and I’ll make sure you get enough air when you need it.”

“Okay.” I tremble, licking my lips. “I mean, yes, sir.”

“If you need me to stop, you’ll use your safe word by tapping my leg twice.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Show me.”

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