Page 122 of Losers, Part I

“So beautiful,” Manson said, pushing my skirt out of the way. He buried his face against me, licking up my dripping arousal, his tongue probing my pussy, my ass. I gasped at the stimulation, groaning as I pushed back against him. I was so close to my orgasm I was shaking, but he stopped before I could plunge over the edge.

“You want to be owned so badly, don’t you?” he said, his voice a murmur. I couldn’t be sure if he was truly seeking an answer, or if he was merely talking to himself. “You want someone to take control, you need it. You don’t want any more frustrating choices, you don’t want to have to think about being judged or rejected. You just want to be a beautiful toy we use as we please.”

There was a click, and I turned my head slightly so I could look up at him. He’d flipped open his knife, the shining bladecatching the knife. I remembered the feeling of him slicing open my skin, how much it had excited me to see my own blood welling up.

I felt drunk on the scene he was setting for me — the pain, the edging pleasure, the surety that in that moment, I was entirely at his mercy. He could do anything he wanted to me, and I savored that feeling of merely being there to serve.

He knew what I wanted, the cravings I feared.

The blade traced lightly over the swell of my ass, taunting me.

“Do you want me to mark you, angel?” he said, ravenous desire in his words. “Do you want to bleed for me?”

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that not only did I want that but I trusted him to do it. “Yes, Master. Mark me, please.”

He made a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a snarl. The blade tapped against my ass and he gripped my hip, holding me in place. Slowly, carefully, he cut into my skin. His pupils dilated; his expression completely transfixed as I whimpered softly at the sting.

I was submitting all control to him, but he looked in awe of me. As if I was something to be revered, my endurance admired, my service treasured.

There was no other feeling like that.

“Beautiful.” His tongue stroked over the cut before he kissed my skin, whispering his praise, “Such a good girl, you look so fucking sexy…” He began to rub my clit, and I almost sobbed from ecstasy. I wanted more. I craved him to be inside me.

As if he could sense it, the head of his cock nudged against my pussy as he coated himself in my arousal. He plunged into me, immediately setting a hard pace as he pulled back my hips, jerking me onto him with every thrust. His hips slapping against my skin reignited the burn from being spanked, and I relished it, moaning with abandon.

A knot was tightening inside me, spurred on by every brutalthrust of his cock. I whimpered, the words shaking. “Please, may I come, Master? Please let me…please…”

Could I stop myself if he said no? Could I possibly hold back? The thought of even having to try was too much, but luckily, I didn’t have to.

“Come for me, angel,” he said, his cock punishing me, driving me relentlessly toward my peak. “Come on my cock.”

His words shattered me into pieces. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe. I could barely even manage to move. Pleasure washed over me in a suffocating wave, and when I finally rose back to the surface on the other side, I was gasping.

“God, you feel like heaven.” Manson’s voice was tight, breathless. “I don’t want a single fucking day to go by that you don’t have one of us filling you up. You should always feel us inside you, dripping down your thighs, every hole aching…”

“All I’m good for is your pleasure,” I babbled, relishing how his breath came faster. “Use me whenever you want. Keep me sore, please. I don’t want to forget what it feels like ever, ever, ah —”

His fingers dug into me, his hips giving one last thrust against me before he buried his face in my neck as he came inside me. He held me so tight, so close. Even after he’d pumped me full, he kept his cock inside me, sinking back so I could rest against him, holding me up even though his body was trembling.

“You’re fucking perfect, angel. So perfect you’ll make me lose my goddamn mind.”

44

Jessica

After a fuck like that, I wasn’t ready to go home. I was done with work for the day, and now that I was thoroughly pleasured and worn out, I wanted to relax.

“I’ll take you back to our house,” Manson said, after he’d used a small disinfectant wipe from his glove box to clean the fresh cut on my butt cheek. “You can chill there as long as you want. Lucas and I will be finishing up work.”

I was able to get a look at the cut for the first time in the Mustang’s side mirror and found Manson’s name etched into my skin. I’d expected to feel excitement and arousal at the sight of it. What I certainly hadn’t expected was an overwhelming flood of emotion, a sensation of aching happiness.

“Don’t worry, it won’t scar,” he told me. “The cut is shallow.”

Maybe I wanted it to scar. Maybe I wanted his name on my skin forever, but I didn’t say it. My ass stung as I slid back into the passenger seat, and I was glad I’d chosen a skirt today instead of denim.

The gate was wide open when we reached their house, and Manson pulled into the yard and parked in front of the garage. I spotted Lucas’s legs under a vehicle as I followed Manson into the house, sighing in relief when the cool interior air hit me. As Manson put Lucas’s espresso in the fridge, I sat on the stairwayto greet the dogs as they snuffled excitedly around my feet.

But a sudden loud burst of singing from upstairs drew my attention. The voice was muffled, but someone up above was scream-singing at the top of their lungs.

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