Page 119 of Beautiful Forever
“I’m so sorry,” he says.
He presses plush kisses over the scars melted into my curves. With each touch of his mouth, he whispers how beautiful I am. My wounds. My body.
My emotions skitter all over the place. Where there was anger and hurt from minutes ago is replaced with need. So much fucking need. I need this. Their praise and their hands on my body. I’m starving for it after being denied it my whole life.
Tristan’s hand runs up the length of my leg. “Our girl is so beautiful, isn’t she, Con?”
Our girl.
Holy shit.
Constantine growls deep in his throat, turning my face to claim my lips once again, possessing me completely with every thrust of his tongue.
Is this really happening? Do I want this to happen?
I’m being kissed by two men. Touched by two men. The tiny voice inside my head that tells me this is so wrong gets shoved out of the way when Constantine shifts his stance and spins me in his arms. Tristan cradles my hips in his hands. His lips paint brushstrokes around the diamond stud at my belly button, and my abdominals quiver.
“I’m scared.” My fear is spoken as just a trembled whisper in the breeze.
My two sexual experiences have been with Tristan and Hendrix, and that’s not saying much since we didn’t really do anything. I’m practically naked, standing out on their back patio. Exposed and vulnerable. Terrified out of my mind that I’m not emotionally ready for what my heart wants more than anything.
“I never got to kiss you here last night.”
His hot breath fans over my mons, and those mischievous whiskey eyes smirk his intent.
“Tristan.”
He’s not really going to—“Oh my god.”
Tristan’s tongue flattens over the thin cotton of my panties, and he hums. The vibrations stimulate my clit, and I can feel my underwear soak through. Pleasure pulses a drumbeat that matches the pounding of my heart.
“So wet for us. Aren’t you, Red?”
He licks me, and I moan. Loudly.
My head drops onto Constantine’s shoulder, and I fall into the fathomless black of his heated gaze. He teases his hand down my chest to the front clasp of my bra, giving me time to say no, to stop. When I say nothing, he flicks the clasp. My bra falls open, and cool night air beads my nipples into hard peaks. Goose bumps scatter like falling stars across my chest and up my arms to my neck.
The rough calluses of his fingers scrape along the exposed swell of my breasts, and he traces the outline of where Hendrix marked me. His eyes raise and lock with mine, a silent question being asked. We have an entire conversation without speaking a word. If I say yes, it will change everything. It will fundamentally change me.
Hendrix appears in front of us. I had been so caught up in the moment that I forgot he was there, quietly watching. He doesn’t try to touch me or join his friends in what’s about to clearly happen. I may loathe him, but I’m not entirely sure I’d stop him if he tried. I really am screwed up.
“You ready for this, Firefly?”
Constantine takes my mouth in a delicious kiss just as Tristan tears my underwear off my body like tissue paper. My entire being lights up like a thundercloud discharging bolts of lightning. Every nerve synapse fires, delivering jolts of need straight to my pussy.
Tristan gathers the wetness that drips down the inside of my thigh with a finger and coats my clit with it. I’m so close to coming, it’s embarrassing.
He kisses my most intimate place and breathes in the scent of my heat. “So pretty,” he says and focuses on rubbing small circles over my swollen nub that makes my toes curl, and my eyes roll back.
My back arches when Constantine cups my breasts and pinches my sensitive nipples. Pleasure and pain. Complete opposites that send me soaring.
Tristan impales my slick, tight channel with one finger, then adds another. My pussy clamps down, and he groans his approval.
“That’s it, baby. We’re going to make you feel so fucking good. Don’t fight it.”
Constantine swallows every obscene moan I make as Tristan finger-fucks me slowly, keeping me right on the edge but not letting me tip over.
“Songbird.” My eyes fly open when Aleksander says my nickname. As if my orgasm was waiting for him to say something, my climax is an explosion of release that shakes me to my core with violent, euphoric shudders.
