Page 80 of Striker

Viper drives his fingers in roughly. Breaker sucks me into his mouth, wet and soft against Striker’s warm fingers. My back arches off the table, a throaty groan breaking free as I spiral toward the edge. Then I’m there. Panting. About to slip over.

“She’s too close,” Striker says and they all back away.

I’m left teetering on the edge. The sound of my desperate, needy whimpers fills the room along with their heavy breathing, and for a moment I marvel at their self control. My entire body feels like a live wire, coiled up and sparking with heat, ready to spring loose and catch fire. Like I’m about to break free of my skin.

“Again.”

This time I swear I feel two tongues, and two sets of fingers as Striker holds me open.

“She’s fucking divine,” Breaker groans. “You taste so good. I could eat you all night.”

“Please,” I choke out, writhing against Reaper’s firm hold, against the grip on my ankles.

“That’s right, Tiny Thing, beg for it.”

Fingers slap harshly to my clit. My spine curves, my body drawn tight like a bowstring.

Viper’s gravelly moan as he tongues at me roughly, as Reaper tightens the belt around my throat, as fingers slip deep into me, as hands drag over my belly, nearly trips me over, but they seem to sense it and back off.

“Beg me more, Sweetheart,” Viper says, letting his tongue drag over my clit. “Tell me how badly you need to come.”

Their hands move over me once again, pushing me to the brink but refusing to let me fall over.

Thisis my punishment. Being driven to the edge repeatedly, only to be yanked back right before I fall over, keeping me precariously close, wishing they’d push me, send me head first into oblivion.

“Please,” I whisper, all shame rushing out with my beg. “Please, just let me come.”

“So pretty,” Reaper whispers, his lips grazing my cheek. Another sob escapes as I turn my face to him, but he backs away, denying me that small bit of closeness. “I love it when you beg. It sounds like defeat.”

They continue their cruel game, but instead of begging, I choke on a sob. The pleasure is so intense it’s painful. My chest constricts, my mind flashing on images of them over the weeks. An ungloved hand caressing my cheek before handing me the knife. Breaker’s gentle touch along my thigh and his masked kiss on my shoulder. Striker’s silken lips tasting my skin as the chilly wind carried my moans away from the garden. Reaper’s feather-light touch and harsh bite. It all spins in my head, driving me to this point of ecstasy and agony.

The belt tightens and Reaper’s lips press to my forehead. I gasp, my body feeling like it’s expanding. Like they each have a part of me and are tugging more and more of me free.

When it becomes too much, my feet slipping over the side of the cliff, they stop and an enraged scream tears free, breaking on a sob. My heart aches, bleeds, torn apart, so desperate for something they can’t give me. I want to wrap myself in them, smother myself in their embrace until this bone-deep pain, this hideousneedfor things I can’t even name, goes away.

“Enough,” Striker says, but I barely hear him.

The leather belt around my throat is loosened and removed. When they release my ankles, my legs fall limply, trembling from being tense for so long. Reaper lets go of my wrists and I turn to my side, drawing my knees up, my entire body shaking.

“Come here, Kitten.” Reaper’s rough voice breaks through my tears, and I feel him scoop me up in his arms. I tuck myself against him, looping my arms weakly around his neck. His scent—musk and male and a hint of smokey cologne—just makes me cry harder.

Reaper carries me across the house and up the stairs. I hear the familiar slide of the bolt, the creak of a door opening, and then Cora’s exasperated cry.

“What did you do to her?” she whispers.

The blindfold falls away, but I keep my head tucked into Reaper’s chest, just breathing him in. When he lowers me, I cling to him, scared if I let go, he’ll take that last piece of me with him.

“Delly.” Cora’s soft hands gently massage my tense back, sending tremors of pleasure through me.

“Take care of our girl,” Reaper says, then the door closes behind me.

Tears stream down my face as I collapse to my knees.

She kneels next to me, asking in a hushed voice, “What the fuck did they do to you?”

My body’s spun up tight, needing to unravel. I grip her by the back of her head and forcefully pull her mouth to mine. She gasps at my roughness, but then melts into me as my tongue slips past her lips.

“Please,” I beg, desperately needing release.

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