Page 25 of Noire Moon
Although he might be resolutelysilent,his eyes are fixated on me from behind his mask. That much I can take in, crystal clear, as our eyes lock with one another’s from across the room.
This is so fucking hot. I’m overwhelmed and out of my head with pleasure.
It’s too much. The way he’s staring at me like that? I’m a coward, and all I can do is slam my eyes shut and lose myself to it all.
My hips snap and roll as I grind down in a rhythm that drives me toward the precipice once more.
“Look at how wet her cunt is. She’s dripping all over your balls.”
Copper Mask is talking to the man who has me impaled on his cock, but his voice has a snarl behind it. When my eyes pop open, seeking out the point where the other two are positioned on the couch, I see why.
God, seeing the other two look so powerful together—getting just a single glimpse of their interaction—I, without question, want to watch my two strangers in front of me fuck.
I want to see it all, and would melt into a puddle of blissed-out ecstasy if this god-like specimen of a man currently stretching my pussy was touching me at the same time.
The voyeur in me has found her voice, and she’s a damn insistent bitch.
Whimpers keep dripping from my lips as I work myself up and down Gold Mask’s cock, trying to maintain a steady pace,shifting my hips forward and back. At the same time, Copper Mask draws back, popping off the other man’s length with a slick noise. They exchange some kind of silent look between them, and I see him reach up with one hand to push his mask back down before flopping up onto the couch beside the other man.
“Did we say you could stop?” Those hazel eyes burn into me from where he’s just gotten up off his knees. At the sound of his gruff voice, my body jolts. My pussy clenches, and the equally silent figure behind me responds by digging tighter into my already bruised hips with his fingers.
I’m writhing on his length, and he’s so fucking deep inside me there are stars behind my eyelids. White-hot liquid pleasure that feels like rocket fuel floods my veins. The fact he’s still wordless, soundless, but using me this way is adding to the already intoxicating mix of shame and near-orgasmic delight.
Copper Mask’s tattooed hands work both their erections, while he tilts his skull face to one side taking in my appearance.
“Don’t think we’re done with you yet. Filthy little flower.”
I feel the man inside me throb, and my walls flutter around his length.
The way I’m so keyed up and desperate leaves me tumbling closer to the edge of another orgasm. But it’s as if the man with the gold mask can hear my thoughts, because his almost painful hold on my hips changes. He yanks me off him, almost as if he can’t bear to have me near any longer.
The suddenness of being discarded leaves me swaying on unsteady feet beside his chair.
As I am pushed away, forced to leave him and his gorgeous cock I want to continually explore, he lets out a dark snarl. I don’t know what to make of any of it.
Why the fuck that primal noise coming out of a masked stranger makes my body flood with heat—rather than want toturn tail and flee this room—is probably worthy of a whole therapy session in and of itself.
However, there’s no time for those thoughts; my skull-masked stranger is on his feet behind me, and I feel the grip of his thick fingers around my upper arm. My nakedness stands out in stark contrast to the way these men’s identities are still concealed, along with the heavy boots and dark trousers they all still wear.
I’m so much more fucked up than I thought. This night has blown any fantasy I could have come up with on my own completely out of the water.
The next second, I’m shoved forward to land on my hands and knees between the legs of the two men on the couch.
As I look up at them, they both peer back at me with heads tilted, mockingly so, and their haunting skull faces glow in the firelight.
Chapter 9
“Whoring yourself out for all three of us?” Copper Mask toys with me again, verbally.
I’m kneeling on the floor, with my hands on the cushions of the leather couch to hold myself upright. My knees feel raw from the amount of time I’ve spent in this position. Though, it’s easy to forget all of that when my eyes follow the movement of his tattooed hand, stroking his length while he reclines on the seat.
Out of the corner of my eye, to the left of me, Bloodied Mask moves, but I can feel the weight of his stare roving over my bare skin. The dried evidence of him marking my breasts is no doubt adding to the twisted enjoyment he’s getting out of seeing me like this.
He lays down on his back, shifting himself along the length of the couch so that his head is now at the end closest to the fireplace. His immensely strong-looking, muscled frame stretches out, taking up the vast majority of the couch, and he shoves his loosened trousers lower on his hips.
“I bet she’s a slut for having all her holes filled at once.” The gravel and velvet voice that coats my body is absolutely right.I am a slut for exactly that, it would seem.
I don’t dare say anything, so I duck my head to hide my burning cheeks.
