Page 7 of Maison De Fous

My fingers explore her with a relentless intensity, probing and caressing her just how I know she likes it. Her reactions are goddamn exquisite—soft gasps, and breathy moans as her body responds to my touch. I relish the way her body always reacts, the way she arches and squirms beneath my fingertips even with the slightest touch.

“God, Lux,” she moans, her voice thick with pleasure. “Don’t stop.”

I slide my fingers deeper, feeling her velvety wetness clamp down around me as I move inside her. My movements are deliberate, rough, designed to elicit the most intense reactions from her. She’s completely lost in the sensation, her fingers gripping my shoulders as she rides the waves of pleasure I’m creating.

Lowering my mouth, I flick her swollen clit with my tongue. “You bring out the worst in me, Indie, you know that, don’t you?” I growl, my voice a dark rumble. “My demons, they love to play with yours. They can never get enough of tasting you.”

Her eyes meet mine, filled with a mixture of lust and surrender. “Show me,” she gasps, her voice a desperate plea.

With a final, teasing flick of my tongue, I pull away, rising to my full height. She looks up at me, breathless and flushed, her body shaking with lust. I don’t waste any time. I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I guide her to the bed at the back of the bus.

The moment I enter her, it’s a collision of raw, unrestrained need. I thrust into her with a roughness that leaves no room for gentleness. Her cries of pleasure mix with my grunts, a fucking symphony of primal desire. I grip her hips, holding her firmly, and guiding her as we move together.

“Fuck, Indie,” I growl, my breath hot against her ear. “Is this what you wanted? What you needed? You wanted my demons to come and play with yours didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she gasps, her voice strained but filled with need. “Fuck. I want it. I want all of you.”

I take her words as a challenge, driving into her with a ferocity that leaves us both gasping. My control slips, replaced by a dark, possessive hunger for more. I can’t get enough of theway she clings to me, the way her body responds to each thrust and the goddamn noises she makes when I fill her.

It’s enough to make me come undone.

The bus becomes a cage of our desire, the confined space echoing every sound. We’re lost in each other, consumed by the intensity of the moment. Her moans grow louder, more frantic, as she nears the edge of climax.That’s it, Indie. Give it to me.I keep my pace relentless, pushing her closer to the brink.

Just as she’s about to shatter beneath me, the door to the bus creaks open. Johnny steps inside, his massive frame filling the doorway, interrupting the feverish rhythm between Indie and me. My hands are still on her, I refuse to stop. My eyes flick to Johnny as he takes in the scene, completely unfazed by the intimacy between us.

He’s dressed for the night. His face painted with a new grinning clown face that looks like it crawled straight out of someone’s nightmare. The sharp lines of his jaw are clean-shaven and squared, giving him an unsettling calm look. His full lips are pressed tight as his haunting brown eyes meet mine with an eerie, unblinking gaze.

He’s dressed in his show costume, a black pair of skinny jeans, and a set of black suspenders. Wearing no shirt underneath, everyone has a clear view of the tattoos scattered across his skin. Dark shoulder-length hair falls around his face in messy waves, making him look as though he’s just crawled out of the shadows.

And shit, he probably has.

More tattoos litter his neck, symbols etched in black that tell stories of violence, pain, and darkness he’s witnessed and survived. He’s geared perfectly for our Dark Harvest, the event that will mark our circus on the map in blood. I continue to thrust into Indie, deeper and harder. I don’t break my stare, instead my grip tightens on her, as if to remind him she’s mine.

All fucking mine.

Johnny’s eyes stay on us, but he understands the dynamic at play. We’ve done this before, and he’s not dumb enough to think this time is any different. His expression remains unreadable as he takes a seat on the couch, his glare fixed on us as he unbuttons his jeans, and pulls out his already hard cock. He begins to touch himself, his movements starting off slow and deliberate. I can see the glimmer of interest in his eyes, a mix of curiosity and arousal.

“Fuck her harder, Lux,” Johnny’s voice comes out low and commanding. “She loves it. Don’t you, little Indie. You like taking every fucking inch of Lux’s cock like the fucking queen you are,” Johnny murmurs, his voice a low growl. His hand moves with practiced ease, pumping himself with a steady, almost hypnotic motion. “Such a pretty fucking sight. You take it so well.”

Indie’s eyes flicker towards Johnny, her gaze a charged mix of curiosity and defiance. She holds his stare, her breath coming faster as she rides me harder, her body moving with a needy, urgent rhythm. The sight of Johnny’s imposing figure, his mask dangling in one hand, only seems to fuel her need further.

Johnny’s breaths are heavy, each one synchronized with the rhythmic motion of his hand. “Tell us. Tell us how good it feels, how much you fucking love it,” he grunts, his voice rough and commanding, as he increases his pace.

“Yes—fuck yes, just like that!” Indie moans, her voice thick with pleasure and need.

Johnny’s eyes are dark with satisfaction, his smirk widening as he watches the scene unfold. With a final, sharp gasp, he releases, his come spilling onto the carpeted floor in a hot, sticky splash. The sight of it seems to electrify the moment, adding a raw edge to the intensity of our actions.

As Johnny’s release soaks into the carpet, Indie’s moans grow louder, more frantic. She looks back at Johnny, her voice strained but filled with an urgent, pleading edge. “Are you watching Johnny? See how good my pussy takes his big cock? How much it needs him?” Her words are a mix of frustration and desire, her eyes locked on his with a fierce, almost defiant hunger.

Johnny’s smirk remains, but his eyes narrow slightly, taking in the scene. The tension in the bus thickens, the raw display of need and dominance pushing all three of us closer to the edge.

Johnny says, his voice laced with approval, “Oh I’m watching, and fuck you stretch so pretty for him. You’re a fucking queen.”

“Fucking right she is,myfucking queen,” I groan as I drive into Indie with renewed vigor, my movements rough and unforgiving. The pleasure in her eyes is a reflection of the raw, primal energy that’s coursing through all of us. As I feel her tightening around me, I know she’s about to climax.

“Come for me Indie,” I growl, my voice thick with desire. “Give me your fucking demons.”

“Oh Christ,” she cries out, her voice a mixture of desperation and bliss.

---