Page 33 of Good Girl
Bending down, Vance grazes the pad of his thumb across my lips. “Such a good girl.” He moves away, closer to Tristan, watching me with lust spilling into his eyes.
“Come to Daddy, Poppy. Let me take care of you.” Tristan pats his lap, and my eyes zero in on the bulge in his slacks. His shirt is open, revealing the hard planes of his muscular body like he hadn’t finished getting ready before coming in here to do whatever he was doing.
Vance lowers his sweats to release his thick, veiny dick. “Suck your master’s cock.”
I bite my lip in indecision, flitting my gaze between the two of them. Decision made, I crawl toward them, veering closer to Vance’s dick and coming to a stop.
Sitting up, I brush my palms over his thighs then take his dick into my mouth, gagging from the size of him as I suck his length down my throat. Tears bleed down my cheeks, saliva soaking my lips as I slobber all over his dick, slurping, sucking, kissing, desperate to taste all of him, always.
“Fuck, look at her take your cock.” Tristan’s tone is gruff, guttural.
“Don’t move, Tristan,” Vance commands as I hear a chair creak. When I look, I see Tristan gripping the arms so tight that his knuckles turn white.
“I want you to make me come, but keep it in your mouth.” Vance instructs, his thumb caressing the corner of my mouth. He buries a hand in my hair, driving me up and down his cock relentlessly, gasping for air until his dick pulses and his warm, salty seed spills across my tongue, filling my mouth.
Pulling free slowly, he taps my cheek. “Don’t leak any of it, Angel.” I bob my head in understanding. “Now go feed Tristan. Show him what a good girl you are.” My heart is going to burst through my ribcage, my pussy throbbing and dripping down my thighs.
Getting back onto all fours, I crawl to Tristan then climb up until I’m in his lap, cupping his cheeks with my palms. I crash my lips to his, flooding his mouth with Vance’s cum. We drink it together, kissing, our tongues lapping at the fluid leaking down our chins and dripping onto my tits.
“That’s enough.” Vance declares, and I whine into Tristan’s mouth, writhing my hips on his hard cock, trying to get friction where I need it. “We need to go out. Go get dressed,” he adds as he leaves the room. Before I can even process what is happening, I hear a shower turn on. No freaking way.
Breaking the bruising kiss, I ask, “Where are we going?”
Tristan’s pupils have swallowed his irises, and he’s practically vibrating as he scoops me under the arms and lifts me. He drops my ass on the edge of his desk before ripping open his slacks and shoving them down his thighs.
“Vance said no.” I say the words, but I’m already reaching for his cock and lining it up with my seeping pussy hole.
He shoves into me hard, items from the desk toppling over and dropping to the floor. “I’m fucking drunk on you,” he confesses. “I’d kill to keep you as mine.”
He fucks me through every word, owning and attacking my pussy with his cock like a bull charging a red cape. Skin slapping against skin, he swipes the desk behind me, clearing a space before pushing against my chest, encouraging me to lie back. I gasp as the cold wood of his desk hits my back, arching as his hands close over my tits, squeezing, pinching the sensitive buds, his thrusts never slowing. My muscles pulsate around him as I come undone.
Pushing a large palm down on my lower stomach, he fucks me without abandon, the friction of his cock hitting me at just the right angle. With the pressure from him pushing down on my belly, I cry out, “Oh god! Oh fuck, don’t stop!” He fills me up with his seed as I tremble around him, my muscles screaming as every part of me tenses and another orgasm crashes over me.
“Naughty, naughty brats.” Vance tsks, leaning against the threshold of the door, arms crossed, hair soaked, jaw ticking.
Oops.
“You can’t leave me like this,” I plead in disbelief.
After finding Tristan balls deep inside me, Vance disappeared down the hall. He quickly returned, dragging a chair down the hall to the dining room. When I asked where the hell it came from, he demanded I sit in it with an angry growl.
The chair looks like your typical formal dining chair with a high back and armrests, but there’s a hole in the center the size of a small dessert plate where my pussy is now exposed. He tiedtinsel garland around my wrists and ankles and is now staring at his handiwork.
After whispering something to Tristan, they both disappear in different directions—Tristan going to the kitchen and Vance heading back down the hallway.
I’m guessing the chair I’m in came from the locked room, leaving me wondering how many other things like this they can drag out of there like Mary Poppins’s handbag.
Tristan comes back first, placing a glass bowl beneath the chair. “Don’t want to waste any of your delectable nectar, Poppy.”
I can only gape at him in response. There’s something manic about the way Tristan sometimes looks at me when he’s turned-on, like he’s completely driven and controlled by his desire, as though an entity takes over him.
Vance returns and smirks at me.
“I’ll be good,” I pout. “It’s Christmas eve.”
Tristan’s gaze flickers with indecision, he’s re-dressed but his hair is still mused from my hands tugging on it.
“She’ll be fine, this punishment is as much for you as it is her,” Vance informs him as he bends before me. I forget how to breathe when he’s holding that vibrating peg. Sucking the end into his mouth, he smirks when I shake my head. “Be a good girl.” His words soak bone deep. I want to be that for him, be his good girl. I nod. Closing my eyes while he attaches it to my clit, a gasp blows past my lips at the contact, the soft, cushiony clamp warmed from his spit closes over my sensitive bud. “While we’re out, Tristan will have to know you’re here coming without him.”
