Page 48 of Filthy and Dirty with the Bikers

Maverick slides two thick fingers inside of me as Holden moves his lips from the lobe of my ear, down my neck, and onto my collarbone. He’s slow and methodical, careful with the way he touches me. Rhett continues on with my nipple. His touch isn’t as soft. He’s more wild, more carnal with his moves.

I close my eyes and grind against Maverick’s touch, pressing my hips up against his hand and back again, weaving on the edge of convulsion as I’m taken over.

“Come for us, trouble,” Rhett growls in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “I want to taste that sweet come. Come on. We’re all going to have a lick when he’s done. Do it. Come for us.”

Maverick scrapes my soft tunnel in an upward motion with two fingers, as he pulls a suction on my clit. This is his killer move. The one that knocks me out right away. The one that gives me the exact orgasm I need to pass out and sleep like a baby.

Within seconds, my thighs tense, my heart speeds, and every ounce of energy I have in my body builds in my chest and explodes in my groin. I buck up and grind against Maverick’s face as he laps me in. The guys hold me close at each side, letting me ride out the orgasm before they too lean in and taste my goodness. One by one, they flick their tongues against my swollen clit, moaning and growling into me like animals.

“Fuck.” Maverick kisses my lips, allowing me to taste my pleasure before he lays next to me. “You’re so good, baby. I could do that all fuckin’ day.”

Holden and Rhett stay by my thighs, kissing me gently as my legs twitch. A second later, there’s a sensation I’ve never felt before on my skin. A soft prickling that touches my inner thigh and travels down again.

“Are you touching me with something?” I don’t bother opening my eyes.

“I found this feather in the drawer of that old sofa table,” Rhett says, still moving the barbs up and over my knee.

My eyes flash open and I sit up, staring down at the blue jay feather that looks miniature in his giant hand.

“Oh my God. That’s crazy. A blue jay feather was the first one I ever picked up. My mom used to put them in the drawer for safe keeping. My brother started doing it too. How the hell is one still in there?”

Rhett shrugs and Holden takes the feather from his hand, handing it toward me. “What’s a blue jay feather mean?”

“A reminder that your life is on course.”

I lay back and twist the blue feather back and forth, studying the way the light hits each barb as three men stroke my skin softly.

A year ago, I thought my life was over. I’d convinced myself that I’d never find the kind of love I’d dreamt about. I was positive that I was destined to live with an abuser becausesomethingwas better thannothing.

Turns out, I was wrong. Fairytalesarereal. They’re real, and they’re more beautiful than I could’ve ever imagined.

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