Page 240 of Blood of Hercules
My uncovered nipples rubbed against the hard planes of a muscular chest.
Heat blazed across my cheeks and traveled down my neck. The strange queasiness twisted painfully inside my lower stomach.
I shivered.
The hands gripping my hips from behind moved slowly forward across my torso.
Inch by inch they trailed higher.
I’d never been touched so intimately before.
Their bodies shifted as we spun faster, blocking me from everyone’s view.
Gloved fingers traveled up.
Higher.
Higher.
Higher.
They brushed across my nipples possessively.
I gasped.
White-hot pleasure burned from my chest to my core.
“Why the fuck,” said the man pressed against my front, “are these out? You really can’t take care of yourself, can you?”
At that moment, the man behind me tweaked his fingers wickedly across my chest, and it was unmistakable what he was referring to.
Stars sparkled in my vision.
I moaned and tipped my head back, rested it against a muscled chest.
Both men groaned roughly.
The man in front leaned closer. “I’m going to have to torture every man and woman who’s looked at you tonight,” he whispered. “Carissima.”
The man in back once again dragged his fingers across my chest.
Everything was on fire.
The Latin endearment wasn’t funny.
“I’m not your dearest,” I muttered, head still tilted back, boneless, as they held me up between them.
Pleasure sparkled through my veins.
“Yes, you are,” they said in unison.
They spoke like they knew something I didn’t.
Hands trailed away from my chest down my stomach, and I whimpered. Foreign sensations tingled across my nerves.
They both took a step back as we spun.
They resumed holding me at a respectful distance, like we were just strangers dancing and they hadn’t just set my body on fire.
