Page 12 of Crave

Damian shuts the door with a soft click.

“Let’s start with some ground rules.” I smile at all of them. Five pairs of eyes stare back. They’re already mentally undressing me. Imagining how my mouth will feel. The guy in the desk chair shifts, and my gaze drops to the bulge in his pants. “No speaking unless you’re spoken to. No touching me unless you’re invited to. Is that clear?”

“Wow,” begins the guy closest to me, “you arereallyinto control—”

“Sshhh,”everyone else hisses.

Good. They get the idea.

I walk over to the guy who spoke, the one who was nervous about me wanting control. He’s good-looking — black hair, blue eyes, big muscular body. I put my hands on his shoulders, stroking them, and excitement floods my skin as he stares up at me. Fuck, this really is like being in a candy store. Straddling him, I lean in for a kiss.

He’s surprised. Probably expected me to go straight for his crotch. But he kisses me back, running his hands over my back and pulling me onto his lap. It feels delicious, and I can’t resist rubbing my pussy against his very hard erection. Around us, the other guys are fidgeting. Adjusting themselves. Breathing faster.

His kisses are getting more aggressive, with lots of tongue. His hands are roaming everywhere. My face, my arms, my breasts. I break the kiss.

“What’s your name?” I murmur, brushing my lips against his ear.

“Anthony.”

Anthony is used to being in control. He needs a reminder of who’s in charge.

“What’s yours?” he asks. I shake my head.

“Hands behind your back, Anthony.”

He stares at me. I nod and give him an encouraging smile. Slowly, he puts his hands behind his back, gripping them together. I reward him by brushing my hard nipples against his chest. He groans softly. As I tease him, stroking his skin, slipping my hands under his shirt, brushing my fingers against the thick bulge in his pants, every breath and gasp he takes are echoed by the other guys in the room.

I drop to my knees, keeping my hands on his legs.

“I can’t wait to taste you,” I murmur. “Take your clothes off.”

It’s a funny thing, giving orders while kneeling. But as Anthony looms over me, hastily stripping off his shirt, jeans, and boxers, there’s no doubt now about who’s in charge.

His cock springs free. It’s everything I want: thick, veined, flushed with arousal. A bead of precum glistens at the tip.

“Mmmmm.” I smile up at him.

When I glance over my shoulder, the force of four other male stares almost knocks me over. All that concentrated desire, all that need…

“Strip,” I order. “All of you. I want to see you naked.”

I’m too impatient, too excited, to wait for each of them to undress when I get to them. I want a roomful of bare-assed guys, riveted to me and wondering if I’ll take my clothes off too.

Some of them leap to their feet. Others stay seated as they yank off their shirts. But they’re all in a rush, eager to expose themselves.

Anthony clears his throat, angling for my attention. It turns into a groan as I stroke his thighs, ignoring his obvious need. He can wait while I take in the vision of his friends throwing their clothes off. So many guy clothes — T-shirts and hoodies and pants and boxers, all flying onto the floor. So many hard bodies. Hungry cocks.

Damian’s bedroom already smells like sex and it’s soaked in desire. My panties are fucking wet. I let out a moan, even though I don’t mean to.

Then I turn back to Anthony. Gripping his cock, I engulf it in my mouth.

“Fuuuuuck,” he hisses.

The shock of the first contact ripples through the room. He’s so thick and hard as my lips wrap around him. I swirl my tongue over his head, wanting to bring him off fast. He tries to fuck my mouth, and I squeeze his shaft so I can stay in control.

Out of the corner of my eye, the other guys are staring. Their lips part as they slowly rub their cocks.

The only one I can’t see is Damian. He’s out of my line of vision. And dammit, I so want to see him. Is he touching himself or holding back? Is he smiling, or is his familiar face clouded with lust?

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