Page 47 of The Players

“Look at her, Carmen.”

“What? I—”

“Reallylookat her.”

When her vision cleared some more, she noticed something she hadn’t expected. The woman’s eyes didn’t sparkle with tears but with… joy and mischief.

Her shoulders sagged. A sadness washed over her as she realized she couldn’t even be around a happy couple without thinking of Franco. Was she ever going to be freed of his legacy?

“This is a safe environment, Carmen. No one’s allowed to hurt anyone.”

“Unless they want to get hurt,” Sy chimed in, giving her a wink.

“I can see that,” she admitted. But this was only the main hall. Who knew what went on in the back rooms? Or in the secluded, private booths, and the dungeon.

“Come on.” Vince grabbed her other hand, and together they went down a pair of steps.

They stopped in front of a large darkened room. Carmen could hardly see inside. The only illumination came from a row of small lights on the floor, leading to something in the middle. It took her a sec to realize the room was filled with people sitting on ottomans, with dark curtains between them, separating them and giving a hint of privacy.

Vince followed the lights on the floor, pushing away curtains, until they stood before a glass ceiling that looked like a fish tank. It had a huge, round bed in the middle, which was occupied by a woman and two men. The woman had her back turned to them. Carmen gasped when she saw the trail of burned skin across half her back.

“That’s see-through glass in a soundproof room,” Sy said, close to her ear. “We can look in, but they can’t look out. It’s to give them privacy as they enjoy each other.”

His breath was hot on her ear and when he finished talking, his tongue swept over it. His tormenting didn’t end there. As the threesome in the bowl started to undress, Sy enclosed her body from behind. His pelvis hit her ass, over and over again. As he silently pounded into her, her hands flew onto the glass to stabilize herself. It became increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open and her moan inside. Her legs turned into jelly and the glass fogged from her erratic breath.

Just as when her knees threatened to buckle, a hand circled between her legs, going straight to her core, pushing her back against a rock-hard chest.

Vince leaned against the glass, his back turned toward the trio, his eyes fixated on her and her alone.

“Tell me what you see,” he ordered.

Speaking wasn’t the thing on her mind right now. Not with Sy dry humping her from behind, his fingers pressing against her soaked panties. Why were they doing this to her?

A large hand closed around her neck. “Tell him, doll. You don’t start talking, I’ll stop. I might be hard as steel, but I’ll stop hitting your ass, even if it’ll kill me.”

“I don’t want to talk. I want you to—”

Sy’s hand around her throat tightened. “You’re not the one calling the shots here. We are. Tell us what you see.” A hard snap of his hips drenched her already wet panties.

“Two men and a woman,” she said hastily.

“Kudos for stating the obvious,” Sy said dryly, and then drove two fingers deep inside her.

She yelled; she couldn’t help herself. She was too far gone to feel shame that people could hear her. Knowing there were other couples behind the curtains on either side only heightened her arousal. All around her, people were moaning in their own private booths. She realized she wasn’t the only one being driven crazy here. The only difference was that she couldn’t see anything else but the two men surrounding her, keeping her pressed against the glass.

Sy circled her clit, his lips on her neck, sucking her skin. She pushed her ass back to him. He had stopped moving and she hated that. She was afraid this night was going to end like all the previous nights—with her body burning and not quite satisfied by the end of it. She was past the time of getting satisfaction from fingers, his tongue. If this was the pace in which they were going to continue, she’d be old and gray by the time she’d have either one of them inside her.

“Please…”

“Not giving you my dick,” Sy taunted her. “Not before you do what we say.”

“Just… Please, okay.” It became increasingly difficult to form coherent sentences. The image of the woman, riding one of the men, while the other pumped in and out of her mouth was so hot. She pictured herself in that position, where it was her bouncing up and down on Sy’s shaft, taking her pleasure, while Vince pistoned into her mouth.

Slut.

You dirty slut.

You’re a dirty slut, aren’t you, wife?

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