Page 193 of Filthy Rich Santas

Beckett slides his hands down to my hips, pulling me against the bulge in his pants. “Is this what you need?”

“We’re going to make you feel so fucking good.” Ryder’s voice is hot and breathless against my skin. “You look so damn perfect when you’re hungry for cock, but you’d look even better spread out on the bed for us.”

My breath catches at the possessive edge in his voice, then their hands are guiding me down and spreading me out, just as Ryder said.

“Don’t move,” Beckett orders as all three men strip down to skin.

Then the bed dips, and they’re surrounding me again, Beckett’s hand between my legs.

“So fucking wet already,” he says approvingly, tugging on my piercing as his fingers slip inside me. “You like being on display like this, don’t you? You like knowing we’re all thinking about how much we want to fuck you. How fucking sexy you are, begging for our cocks like the hungry slut you are.”

My heart is racing, a hot, electric current running through my veins, and when Beckett slides his fingers free and licks them clean, I moan.

He’s right that I’m hungry for it. I need their cocks inside me like I need air. And if Beckett wants me to beg, I’m more than happy to. I’ll do anything for these three men.

“Please,” I breathe. “I’m yours. All of you. Please. I want it. I need it. Fuck me like you promised.”

“Like we promised?” Ryder grins down at me, hot and wicked. “Because I remember someone asking to be fucked like a bad, bad girl tonight. Is that what you want?”

My thighs clench involuntarily, a rush of heat sweeping through me. I remember too.

“Yes,” I gasp, my voice cracking.

“Say it,” Beckett rasps, his hand sliding down to wrap around his cock, those thick fingers playing up and down the row of piercings in his length.

I can’t tear my gaze away. My pussy throbs, aching for him, and my fingers twitch, desperate to touch him too.

“Yes,” I repeat. “Please. I’m your bad girl, and I need you to fuck me. All of you. Fuck me like I’m filthy.”

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Ryder groans, dipping down to kiss me hard.

Beckett groans, pushing my legs apart and lifting them to his shoulders, then fitting his cock against my entrance and driving in to the hilt in one hard thrust.

I almost cry out, but Ryder swallows the sound quickly before letting Tristan take over where he left off.

Someone’s hands are on my breasts.

Someone else tugs on my piercing.

And Beckett fucks me like I really am on the naughty list, thrusting hard and fast right out of the gate, with no slow, sensual build up. Giving me exactly what I need, claiming me with an intensity that leaves me breathless.

I cry out, overwhelmed and already racing toward an orgasm.

“More,” I beg. “Harder. Faster.”

“You’ll get what I fucking give you,” he growls as his hips snap forward, driving deeper, his strength on full display as he powers into me.

My head falls back, my spine arching, a primitive, helpless sound tearing from my throat. I scrabble for purchase on the sheets, unable to do more than hold on as Beckett pistons between my legs, using my body for his pleasure.

“Fuck, I need some of that,” Ryder grunts, fisting his cock next to me as Tristan drags his mouth from one of my nipples to the next, sucking and biting, marking my skin like he owns it.

I’m right on the edge, but for once, they’re keeping me there. Not pushing me over into a sobbing, quivering mess of pleasure, but edging me almost as badly as the day they made me wear the butt plug.

“Ryder,” Beckett grunts, pulling out of me abruptly. “Get some of this.”

Ryder’s cock immediately takes his place, slamming into me and fucking me with a punishing rhythm that makes my eyes roll back in my head.

“Fuck, your pussy feels amazing,” he says, pushing me legs up until they’re folded in half, my knees at my shoulders while he drives into me. “It was made to take our cocks.”

---