Page 56 of Caution Tape

Both of my hands on Nolan, I pull his between my legs, his finger spreading apart to let Ryan’s dick keep sliding in and out of me. There’s another pause; Ryan is unsure of having another man’s hand so near him.

“We didn’t tell you to stop,” Nolan says.

The callus is right against my clit. I press his hand down and grind it against me, ecstasy exploding within me as Ryan picks his pace back up.

My orgasm is sharp, brief, and brilliant.

Nolan watches it all happen.

Then very quietly says, “Give her to me.”

Ryan withdraws from me as Nolan rips one of the pillows off the bed, shaking the pillow out of the silky case and tossing it aside. Still holding the pillowcase, he tells me to bend over on the bed. I do as I’m told, confused, thrilled, and more than a little turned on.

Nolan throws the pillowcase over my head. Darkness envelopes me, sound is muffled, the fabric pressing harshly against my eyelashes. Each breath I take draws the cloth tighter against my mouth, wetting the fabric as I struggle for air. I feel him wrap it around my throat as he slides into me from behind. I am shoved down into the bed, as he savagely fucks me, a steady stream of insanity coming out of his mouth and into my ear as he pants and groans against me.

“You thought you were special, didn’t you? You’re just another toy, Cora.”

His hands begin striking my ass, alternating between each cheek.

“All this bullshit about being crazy; about being like me…” His thrusts stop their rhythm, and he starts working in short, brief bursts, burying his dick as deep as he could inside of me, like he was using it to punctuate each word of his sentences.

“You’re. Nothing. A tourist. A little brat who thinks she’s more fucked up than she really is.”

I gasp, caught between a building orgasm and confusion—was this part of the game, or are they his real thoughts? Why do I feel a twisting sense that I had to prove myself to him? I hate it… and fuck, I love it, too.

“Go get a knife from the kitchen,” Nolan says. For a moment, I think he is talking to me, but then Ryan asks why. “To cut a hole in the pillowcase. You want her to keep sucking your dick, don’t you?”

Nolan’s voice drops and his grip loosens on me. I feel his breath in my ear, and his voice is earnest, excited.

“I’m going to leave the knife on the bed for you. When you want to kill him, tell him you want us to come on your face.”

His breath leaves my side and I feel it on my back as he gingerly kisses down it with sweet, almost innocent kisses.

Sometimes he’s shockingly tender, other times he’s a fucking nightmare.

“Did you guys’ spill wine or something in the kitchen? There’s a stain.” Ryan’s voice wanders, bringing me out of my emotional turmoil.

“Yeah. Spilled a bunch,” Nolan grunts. He pulls out of me, then tilts my chin up. “Hold still and open your mouth as wide as you can.”

There’s the sound of fabric ripping as he pokes the knife through, and suddenly something sharp and metallic on my tongue.

“Hold still,” he warns again, rotating the knife and sawing away a rough circle. He removes the knife and tears away the rest. His thumb rests in my mouth for a moment, and I flick it with my tongue before biting down on his knuckle.

When he groans in a mixture of pleasure and surprised pain, a thrill shoots through me and I want him more than ever.

Something touches my hand beside me on the bed.

The knife.

Nolan is serving Ryan to me.

My last boyfriend didn’t even get me flowers.

Someone gets onto the bed in front of me, and a dick is shoved rudely back into my mouth as Nolan slips back into me from behind, both of them pumping into me with savage lust.

This is fun, but it has gone on long enough. I grip Ryan’s cock and stroke it, while blindly looking upwards, the pillowcase reducing everything to a muffled shadow.

“Take this off,” I demand. “I want to look at you while you come on my face.”

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