Page 32 of Touchdowns and Tinsel

Slowly, trying to ignore the double invasion in my ass and pussy, I begin swirling my tongue around the dick in my mouth, slurping my spit before it drips from my lips and makes a mess.

Even in immense pain, the hint of pleasure is overwhelming. I push the feeling of burning, ripping skin to the back of my mind and focus on sucking the man's dick, hearing small gasps and grunts each time he thrusts into my mouth.

"You look fucking perfect like this, whore. It's like you were made for the camera," the short guy announces, making me jump, almost forgetting he was recording the entire ordeal.

Suddenly, something prickly and itchy wraps around my neck, and I'm yanked backward against the man behind me. A hint of pine travels up my nose, and right away, I realize they've wrapped my throat in garland.

Sucking one cock and bouncing on another while a third slams into my ass, I've never felt more full. My body feels on the verge of breaking, my muscles ripping in all the right places. I go with the flow and fall into the moment, trying to keep my momentum while I ride and suck, unfazed by the camera recording me somewhere in the room.

Q reaches up and cups my breasts, roughly twisting my nipples just to see a look of pain wash over my face. Even blindfolded, I shut my eyes, trying to push the shame and embarrassment down as far as I can.

If my husband knew about my fantasies, he would've left me a long time ago. But if Cole were to find out, I know he'd give me hell to pay, and it would make matters between us much worse. But even so, as I ride Q's cock and take the brutal pounding in my ass without complaints, all I can picture is my stepson fucking my mouth while I look into his eyes, and I shudder from the forbidden thoughts, knowing he can never find out about this or anything else for that matter.

Still, it doesn't hurt to fantasize about it, so that's exactly what I do.

fifteen

Cole

"Idon’t want to do this, Noelle, but time's up," I mutter, steering into my driveway and slowly gliding into the spacious garage.

Noelle remains bound and blindfolded in the front seat, while the guys sit quietly in the back. She huddles there, wrapped up yet trembling, as if the weight from being here makes her uneasy—back at a house that holds countless memories for both of us.

We both knew we had twenty-four hours, yet neither of us is ready to let this time together slip away. If she realized who had kidnapped her and who had fucked her last night, she would want absolutely nothing to do with me. So the plan remains unchanged—we can't reveal that it was us, under any fucking circumstances.

"Are you ever going to tell me who you are?" She asks softly, fidgeting with her hands in her lap, nervously chewing on her bottom lip that’s still swollen from our intense, passionate kisses.

“No, it’s better this way. You got what you wanted—what you needed—so there’s no reason for us to ever cross pathsagain.” Each word feels like venom as they escape my lips, and inexplicably, my heart feels as if it's being ripped from my chest.

The guys in the back remain silent, allowing me to exit the car and make my way around to the passenger side. I open Noelle’s door, gently taking her hand and leading her to the door to the house, and together we step into the dim kitchen, where Christmas lights cast a soft flicker through the enveloping darkness.

Leading her up to her bedroom, I commit every curve and contour of her body to memory, unwilling to let a single moment of our time together fade away. Even though I'll see her every day, feigning innocence as if nothing has transpired between us, the reality is stark—I won’t be able to kiss her. Touch her. Hold her. Our relationship will revert to a façade of animosity, both of us pretending our feelings for one another don’t exist.

As I gently guide her onto the bed, positioning myself between her slightly parted legs, I cradle her delicate face in my hands and lean in to meet her lips. Without hesitation, she kisses me back, seeking to reclaim control with her tongue, as if she can't get enough. She doesn’t want to stop, and neither do I. I deepen the kiss, easing her onto her back while I hover over her, her sweet, sugary vanilla scent enveloping me like a warm embrace.

But the reality of our situation crashes over me—this moment is stolen. I bury my face in her neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her hair, and from somewhere deep within, a growl of resistance builds. How did we get here? Are things going to be different now? Will there ever be a time where she puts two and two together? The questions swirl like a chaotic shitstorm, each one weighing down on me.

“Promise me you won’t forget this,” she whispers, barely audible but filled with an urgency that sends chills down my spine.

“Forget?” I scoff softly, pulling back just enough to look at her face, and there it is—a flicker of defiance mixed with vulnerability. “No one could ever fucking forget you, Noelle.”

Her breaths quicken, eyes leaking tears under the blindfold as she wavers on the edge of reality, struggling against whatever chains bind her thoughts—ignorance being the cruelest chain of all. My heart aches, craving a truth I know I can't afford to give.

Just as I lean in again, holding my gaze on her lips, the soft click of a door echoes behind us, shattering our moment. I instinctively tense, glancing over my shoulder to see Ryder leaning casually in the doorway, a crooked smile on his lips yet concern etched in the furrow of his brow.

“You’ve got ten minutes left. Don’t lose track now, Romeo,” he remarks, though his tone fails to extinguish the tension sparking in the air around us.

A heavy silence stretches, and I feel the weight of Noelle’s eyes on me—even through her blindfold—questioning, challenging. I can’t bear to watch the hope fade from her expression, so I redirect my focus back to what matters most.

“We’ll finish this another time,” I say, quickly brushing my thumb across her jaw, savoring the warmth and sweetness of her. “Just... don’t think too hard about everything else.”

I step away, my heart pounding against my ribcage. It’s torturous walking away from her like this, leaving her bound not just in ropes but in confusion. The two worlds—the real and the fabricated—keep crashing into one another, and the lines are blurring painfully.

As I take a step back, my eyes dart to Ryder, silently communicating the urgency brewing beneath the surface. He rolls his eyes but understands nonetheless the danger of this delicate arrangement creeping into every cranny of our plan.

“Noelle,” I say, recalling that part of her I wish to preserve—the fierce woman who fought against her circumstances, whocraved more than just what was handed to her. “Remember what I fucking said. Focus on the good shit. You’re stronger than you fucking think.”

As I start toward the door, feeling the heat of her presence linger on me, I can’t help but shoot one last glance back. A single tear glistens as it rolls down her cheek, revealing a vulnerability that resonates deeply with my own. And then I’m out, the door clicking shut behind me, the weight of my decisions fucking crushing me.

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