Page 193 of Twisted Trails
I move to step forward, but Alaina lifts a hand. “Uh-uh. First, you all just watch, no touching. I’m the only one allowed to touch me.”
My heart slams against my ribs as she spreads her knees, leans back on her heels, and shows useverything.
The helmet she used to shield herself from the world for so long might as well be a crown now for how beautifully she wears it.
I shift my weight and bite my lip hard enough to draw blood as her hand trails between her breasts. I track every single movement as her fingertips ghost over her flushed skin, marking a trail to her nipples that I’m dying to travel. She rakes her nails over each peak, and then she pinches them, arching her back, her ragged inhale muffled through the helmet. My cock hardens to steel as she tugs on her nipples before rolling them between her delicate, capable fingers.
Luc exhales like he’s been gut-punched, and I glance at the men beside me to see the agony,need,and worship on their faces.
The camaraderie I feel in knowing I’m not the only one who’s one breath away from losing every ounce of composure I’ve ever had is as surprising as it is welcome.
But it wasn’t like I’ve ever had any composure when it comes to this woman.
Her other hand slips lower across her stomach, and I still as she traces her scars, but she doesn’t falter.
Not for a single breath.
She goes straight for her clit, drawing firm, lazy circles. I memorize the motion, body twitching every time her hips rock forward, chasing friction. I can practicallyseeher smirk as she tortures us, putting on a slow show and wondering how long we’ll last.
I nearly crumble when she moans softly, breathily, the sound desperate and edged enough to spike heat straight down to my straining cock.
And then she pushes her fingers inside, slowly, andGod,the sound it makes when she pumps them in and out in filthy, beautiful strokes is something straight from all my dirtiest dreams.
Wet, obscene, andmine.
She whimpers as she slides back up to circle her clit again, faster this time, and my cock twitches in my jeans. Every cell in my body is begging to help, to get my hands on her, my mouth, fuckingsomething.
Luc takes a step forward, and before I can act, Mason grabs his arm, hauling him back. Luc’s whine is pathetic and needy, but I can’t even fault him for it.
That’s exactly how I’d sound if I weren’t still biting my lip.
Alaina’s chest rises and falls with panting breaths, and her thighs tremble, but with the helmet shielding her eyes, all we see is our own twisted hunger reflected at us in the goggles.
Three men teetering on the knife’s edge of control.
But still, none of us moves again, not even Luc.
We’d burn for her if she told us to.
Alaina stills, her moan cutting off midway as she holds herself right on the brink.
And fuck,Inearly whimper at the sight. I don’t know how much longer I can take this.
When I think she’s a second from falling over the edge, I hear my salvation.
“Finn. Strip.”
I don’t hesitate. Shirt off. Jeans and boxers down, not sparing Luc or Mason a glance as I shuck off my socks.
“Closer,” she commands.
I obey, stepping toward the bed.
She rises to her knees and pulls the helmet off, then crooks a finger at me. I lean in, and she sets it on my head.
It’s jarring, the way the world muffles, but it’s warm, too, and I rebound quickly, raising a brow she can’t see.
“How am I supposed to lick every inch of you with a helmet on?”
