Page 52 of Trust in the Fallen

Our girl has a praise kink I’m more than happy to satisfy.

She lifts her hips a little higher before carefully lowering herself again. Over and over in a maddening rhythm that is simultaneously too much and not enough.

Each move she makes is uncertain, but she doesn’t let it stop her, and pride bubbles to life in my chest. When I look up at Wyatt he’s got a similar spark in his eyes.

“Do you like riding my cock, pretty girl?” I rumble, finally giving in to the temptation and moving my hands to rest on her hips. It doesn’t seem to matter how much I touch her, it never seems like enough.

“Yes, Sir,” Leighton moans.

Wyatt’s fingers move down her body, stopping at each nipple to pinch it lightly, causing her pussy to pulse around me. Jesus. She’s like a goddamn paradise.

They continue their path as I guide her up and down, relishing in each rise and fall that brings her closer to her release.

The moment Wyatt’s fingers brush over her clit she lets out a gasp that almost throws me over the edge. Holy fucking shit. I pride myself on control, but I have none when it comes to her.

Her movements become more jerky as she struggles to keep them consistent.

“Do you want me to take over, little one?” I ask, digging my fingers into her hips a little harder. I need her to say yes because I’m barely fucking holding on as it is. I need to fuck her. I need to own her. I need to pump her full of my cum. I need it fucking all.

She nods through a moan, and I don’t need her words right now.

I thrust my hips up in a sharp movement that tears a scream from her throat as I set a punishing pace.

Leighton’s hands move to my shoulders, using them for balance but doesn’t she realize I’ll never let her fall?

“Fuck,” I grit out.

“I’m close,” she cries out, and I swear if I wasn’t so focused on getting her to oblivion, that declaration likely would have been enough to throw me into my own.

“Good girl,” I croon. “You’re taking me so good. Are you going to come for me? Are you going to be a good little whore and soak my cock?”

She doesn’t get the chance to respond before her orgasm tears through her. Her entire body trembles with the force of it, but I hold her steady, dragging every single ounce of pleasure from her before I let myself follow her.

I pump my cum as deep into her as I can, praying to a god I don’t believe in that it’s the zero point one percent that beats the birth control and takes root.

I know how fucked up that is, but if we could plant our seed in her, there’s no chance of her running. She’d be trapped with us, and that’s all I fucking want.

CHAPTERFORTY-EIGHT

LEIGHTON

Ipace up and down the living room restlessly.

When Wyatt laid out a dress I’ve never seen before, one my mother would have a heart attack if she saw me in, on the bed this afternoon and told me to get ready, it set off a chain reaction of stress and anxiety.

Where are we going?

Do I look like someone who likes surprises?

Is it safe for me to go out?

The questions peppered my mind all afternoon as I did as I was told. I applied the expensive makeup they bought me last week, somehow knowing the exact shades and colors I prefer. I curled my hair and pinned some of it up in a messy style that matches the dress they picked out.

And I slipped into the black satin number that leaves very little to the imagination. The one-shoulder design is about the most conservative thing about the piece of fabric charading as a dress. It drops to just above my knee with the highest slit I’ve ever seen in my damn life. To the point when I put it on, I had to take my panties off, which I’m sure was probably the intention now I think about it.

The dress clings to me, and when I expect to hate it when I look in the mirror, my mouth pops open in surprise.

I look good.

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