Page 118 of Beautiful Forever
“Yes.”
Goose bumps explode everywhere as he gently lifts each foot, then discards the remainder of my clothes, leaving me naked and blindfolded.
“You like that he’s watching, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I moan when he sinks a finger inside me.
My body becomes their playground. Tristan, Constantine, and Hendrix worship me with their mouths and hands and praise. Every sensation is made more exhilarating because I can’t see anything. I can only feel.
A sensuous kiss.You’re so fucking beautiful.
The scrape of a tongue up my inner thigh.Good girl.
A bite on my breast.Your body is our paradise.
A pinch to my clit.I love you.
I moan in ecstasy when Tristan’s tongue invades my pussy, fucking me relentlessly, while Hendrix’s wicked mouth does delicious things to my nipples, and Constantine steals my breath and my moans with a kiss that has me free-falling.
Everything they do is too much and not enough. I’m edged over and over again, my release at their mercy as they torture me with the promise of an orgasm that has the power to rip me apart until there is nothing left.
I want it so badly. Them. Him. Us.
“I need to see everything,” Aleksander says, his voice laced with barely contained hunger.
My vision returns when Constantine pulls off my sleep shirt and tosses it to the side. There’s a swift swoop in my stomach when I’m lifted. My bare feet touch the blankets, and I gasp when I’m roughly pulled back against the hard plains of Constantine’s chest.
“Do you remember that night on the back patio?” Tristan asks.
At first, I think he’s talking to me, but Aleksander replies, “I remember everything.”
Constantine’s lips meet the nape of my neck, and my eyes briefly close at the contact as that memory comes flooding back. The night I wrote about in my journal and called it the beginning of us.
I rip my shirt over my head and shed my shorts until I’m in nothing but my white cotton bra and pale pink panties. Under a half-moon and starlit sky, I let the three of them get a good long look at the horrific parts of me that I try to hide. The parts that separate me from everyone else. Ugly. Damaged. Unworthy. Freakish.
“Fuck me,” Hendrix breathes out.
“You want to know who I am?” I raise my arms over my head and turn to show the large, Frankensteined area of my side and hip that doesn’t look any better, even after three skin grafts. “This is me.” I touch each line where the knife slid in. “I’m the girl with no past because she doesn’t want to remember it. I’m the girl no one wants. The broken, pathetic,stupidgirl who looks like a monster.”
All the air gets knocked out of me when Constantine pushes me up against the side of the house, cutting off my emotional tirade and anything else I was going to say.
He slams his body into mine, his hands holding my face. “You’re so fucking wrong. You’re the most beautiful fucking thing I have ever seen.”
Before I know what’s happening, he kisses me in front of his two best friends. Two best friends who I have also kissed. So many lines get blurred in that moment. I had daydreamed more times than I can count about being kissed by Constantine, but nothing could have prepared me for this. This isn’t just a kiss. This is life-altering.
His tongue strokes between my lips, demanding entrance, and a low moan breaks free when he slips inside, tasting, taking, devouring me. Desire mainlines into my bloodstream, sending me on a high I never want to come down from.
The brick of the house radiates the sun’s heat it soaked in during the day and abrades the skin along my back. I hardly notice, too consumed by Constantine to care. Whatever has been building between us breaks free from its cage, snarling, rabid, and ravenous.
He takes and takes, and I’m left clinging to him as my entire world flies apart.
Something soft brushes against my side, like a phantom tingle. Nerve endings that shouldn’t work, spark to life, intense and overpowering.
“I’m sorry,” I hear Tristan whisper, but I’m not quite sure why he’s apologizing. For what he said or what was done to me?
I feel the sensation again.
And again. The same tingle, this time stronger. I breathlessly look down. Tristan kneels next to us, his lips on my mutilated skin.
