Page 7 of Lords Of Ruin

Vincent’s voice is deep and commanding. He smells like rain and smoke as he skims his nose up the column of my neck. “I want you to undress for us. Slowly. Let me see every inch of you.”

I swallow hard, my mouth dry as I obey, knowing this is my only shot of saving myself and my father. My hands shake slightly as I reach for the edges of the cereal boxes, pulling at the tape holding it against my breast.

“Look at me Chiquita.” Cast growls and my eyes lock on his as I rip the tape off my skin, my nerves too high to feel the sting of the tape ripping off of my chest and let the boxes fall to the floor.

Cast’s eyes darken, and my skin feels like a thousand sparks of electricity run across my skin.

“Good girl,” Vincent murmurs, stepping closer. His fingers brushing against the side of my breast, my nipples harden painfully at his touch, but I don’t dare make a noise and I keep my eyes locked on Cast.

“Bottoms next.” Cast challenges and I suck my dry lip back into my mouth.

His words send a thrill down my spine and I betray myself whimpering softly. The heat between my legs builds, and I press them closer together. Vincent’s fingertips brush along the edge of the cereal box on my right hip, his voice rolls into my ear like thick molasses.

“You heard him, little devil. Bottoms off.” Vincent encourages me.

I refuse to let my mind wander, knowing that if I do, I will run away and never return. But then I see Damien, his dark eyes fixed on me as he leans forward with his elbows planted firmly on his knees. Without hesitation, I grab the cardboard between my fingers and tear it apart, dropping the box to the ground without a second thought.

"¡Dios mío!" Cast mutters under his breath, and my eyes shoot back to Cast’s face as his eyes trace the curve of my silhouette.His intense gaze roams over my exposed skin, and I can feel all three sets of their eyes lingering on every curve, every freckle, every scar on my body.

“It’s even better than I've imagined.” Vincent praises, his hands leaving a cold gust around my waist. “Spin for us.”

I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks as I try to maintain my composure, masking the discomfort that bubbles beneath thesurface. With a forced smile, I oblige, twirling slowly in front of them, feeling their stares like a physical touch upon my skin.

Vincent watches with a hunger in his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips and arms crossed casually over his chest.

The room feels suffocating, the air thick with tension and unspoken desires. As I turn back to face Cast, he steps forward, his hand reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind my ear. His touch ignites a fire within me that I try desperately to suppress. “On your knees, Pawn.”

My chest tightens and I almost ask where the nickname Chaquita went and why he is now calling me Pawn, but instead I sink to my knees, eyes locked on his. Vincent follows me down, spreading his knees so my ass is pressed against the tented bubble wrap.

He cups my breasts in his hands, his thumbs teasing the sensitive skin around my nipples. I gasp, arching into his touch. “Feel how much I want you, Willow,” he whispers, his breath hot against my ear. “Every part of you is mine. I won’t ever let you go now.”

My lips part, a small gasp leaving my lips, and Cast gives me a knowing smile. “She’s so eager,” he says, low and approving as his thumb slides across my bottom lip.

Vincent smiles against my jaw, his finger lightly pinching my nipples into little tents. “Now, I want you to touch yourself. Show me how wet you are for me.”

My cheeks flush with embarrassment, as I bite my lip and look away. There is no way he knows how tight the coil of desire is in my belly. How would he know how his touch makes my brain foggy and all I want is to release whatever tension that’s buildingin me. I have never touched myself, never had a reason to, but having their eyes on me makes my thighs slick with want.

I lift my hand to my chest, squeezing my breast gently the same way Vincent did when I first dropped my top. I pinch my nipple between my fingers, rolling it until I gasp. Cast’s thumb slides deeper into my mouth, he tastes crisps like grapes and I have to force myself to keep my mouth open to suck on his thumb.

Vincent’s hand wraps around mine guiding it lower. “No, not like that,” he instructs. “Use your other hand. Touch your pussy. Make yourself moan for me.”

My breath hitches as I move my hand from my breast to my pussy, feeling the slick heat already pooling there. Vincent chuckles again as my hand stays hovering over my pussy, not knowing where to touch, or what to do, but thanking the heavens that Jasmine insists on getting waxes together even if she is the only one sexually active until now.

“Slide your fingers into your wetness.” He moans. “I know your fucking soaked for us.”

He’s not wrong; the minute I slide my fingers between my pussy lips I feel practically an ocean between them, and I close my eyes, involuntarily moaning as I explore.

“From the way she looks, I don’t think she really wants to be a pure little virgin. She wants to be our little slut.” Cast taunts me, and despite me knowing I should bite his thumb for calling me a slut, desire rolls through my stomach and I want him to say it again.

Damien growls at his words and my eyes open to see him white-knuckle gripping his knees across the room. Cast chuckles. “Eyeson me, Pawn. He can join at any time he wants, and don’t worry—Vinny and I will keep our word—no deflowering.”

“No deflowering tonight,” Vincent moans. “But don’t worry, I am going to be the one to pop that little cherry of yours. Now run your finger up to where you are pulsing with need.”

I run my two fingers up to the bundle of nerves, and my body jolts, forcing Cast’s thumb deeper into my mouth.

“She found her clit boys.” Vincent mocks me and I flick my tongue out along Cast’s thumb, needing to do something with my mouth.

He moans lightly, cursing under his breath. “Mierda!’

---