Page 87 of Lose Me In The Shadows

“This is what does it? Not me shooting you, but me—understandably—saying that being raped by Chris and his goons is a fate worse than death? That’s what makes you not want me?”

“I will want you until my dying breath, and then I’ll want you in whatever afterlife exists, heaven or hell. But you talking that way, even thinking that way, is unforgiveable. Even thinking about it—” his voice broke. “Finish them off and then come back here.”

He sat back up, his hand back on his still hard cock. And Kara was shocked at how much she wanted to come—like the intensity of the conversation, the talk of death, made her body cling to life that much harder. Like it, too, was angry at her for having such dark thoughts. She crawled back across the floor, aware of the way the Berber carpet brushed her bare legs and of how subjugated she felt on the floor between them—

—and how excited it made her.

Micah had taken up where she left off, stroking Conor’s cock with one hand and his own with another. She leaned over to take one in her mouth.

“Wait.”

They readjusted, sitting closer together, crossing thighs so that Micah was practically in Conor’s lap. Micah pushed their cocks together.

“There’s no way you’ll both fit,” she said, a little breathless at the idea.

“Yes we will. You’ll make us fit, eager girl,” Conor said. She had to strain to hear his voice.

“Oh, and Maya?” Micah’s voice was troublingly light. “Don’t you dare touch our pussy.”

“Or there will be hell to pay,” Luke said tightly from the other side of the booth.

Sure enough, her hand had been sneaking between her legs, intent on getting herself over the edge that loomed just out of reach.

Inhaling, she opened her mouth as wide as it could go and wrapped it around both Micah and Conor’s cocks. They filled her, stretching her cheeks and forcing her to concentrate so she didn’t accidentally use her teeth—that was Luke’s thing, not theirs.

She hoped Luke was watching, jealous. She imagined what was going on above her, Micah blue-eyed and slack jawed, Conor’s teeth clenched tight, as they both tried hard not to come, to drag this out. She licked the bottom of their cocks, making them sloppy wet, and did her best to suck them deeper. The fit was too tight—Conor’s cock thick and long, Micah’s cock slightly shorter, but thicker. She imagined what it would be like to try to take Luke’s cock, too, and her clit pulsed. Impossible, but still sexy.

“Taste good, baby?” Micah crooned. “That jaw hurt? You’re going to have to kneel there and take it while we finish our drinks. Oh, I almost forgot.”

His hand reached down and handed her the French 75.

She pulled back from their cocks, taking a swig.

“Don’t swallow it,” Conor ordered. “And try not to spill.”

Oh, shit.

Opening her mouth, she sucked both of their cocks back in, reveling in the sound of their synchronized groans from the mix of the heat of her mouth and the cool bubbly liquid of her drink. And inevitably, she spilled a little out of her mouth and onto her dress, but maybe they wouldn’t notice later. Inspired, she played with their balls with both hands, and tightened her cheeks and hummed around them. As she hummed and felt them thicken even more, and they didn’t need to be in her throat to choke her. Micah shouted, Conor groaned low in his throat, and then her mouth and throat were filled with their combined release, changing the taste in her mouth from sweetness to salt.

She swallowed, but there was too much, and she felt it spill onto her lips, down her chin, and onto her breasts.

When they pulled out of her mouth, she started to lick it up, only for Conor to say: “Whatever you didn’t swallow, Maya, you leave. When our contact shows up, I want him to know what you just did, to see we’ve claimed you. That you’re ours, sweet baby girl, as much as we’re yours.”

Theirs. Hers.Despite the come drying on her chest and chin, she felt warm, treasured. More than that: She was as effervescent as the French 75 still tickling her mouth with its bubbles.

“In fact…” Even from under the table she could hear the sadism in Luke’s voice. “You’ve been good and deserve a reward. Come back to me, sweet baby girl.”

Those three words had never sounded better than when he said them. They weren’t just ownership, but forgiveness—a reminder that no matter how far she went, he still cared.

No matter what you do, no matter who you hurt, you’re ours, Conor had said when they’d rescued her from Chris, and although Luke hadn’t been there, he was saying the same now.

Eagerly, she crawled back across the floor, distantly aware of the fact that she should feel degraded right now, not cared for. Somehow it was both. It wasn’t just the affection in their voices, or the way they all shared the endearment. Knowing how far they’d go to protect her—all of her—made her feel safer than she’d ever felt.

Back at Luke’s feet, she put her hand above his, opening her mouth to take him.

“No,” he said. “You were good, but I’m not convinced you were good enough. You get my come, but you don’t get my cock. Pull down your dress.”

Oh, holy fuck. She knew what he wanted.

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