Page 82 of Fatal Fantasy

“Fucking hell, my little waterfall, you’re making quite the mess of the table,” Massi teases, lightly feathering his touch around her clit, us both staring in awe as her body spasms from the slightest pressure.

“What do you want, Carter? Do you want him to fuck this perfect pussy while I drip hot wax all over your body?” I ask, slowly removing my cock from her throat, allowing her a few deep breaths before I wrap my hand around her empty windpipe, forcing her eyes into mine.

“God, yes, please!” She cries, raking her fingers through her hair while I continue to let the wax drip at a steady pace along her skin, the sound mimicking a leaky faucet, but she only arches her back in response, taking every drop with perfection.

Carter craves the pain, her body desperate for anything that makes her feel more alive, closer to the edge, and right now, this candle serves as a brand new dose of the euphoric high she chases.

“I’ll be your God, Principessina,” Massi hums along her belly, fisting his cock while he teases her clit to the brink of agony, but her sweet sounds of relief are worth every frustrated cry that leaves her lips.

Every time we test something new, Carter finds ways to blow my expectations out of the water, and this experience with the candle wax is no different.

She’s a magnificent creature, the kind that is always on the hunt for electricity in her veins, and thankfully, we love nothing more than forcing those new pieces out into the open.

I’d never give her more than I think she can handle, but right now, in this empty warehouse, she’s found a new high to yearn for, a delicious brand of adrenaline to pump fresh life into her veins.

We may have started the night with the kidnapping and subsequent torture of her ex-fiancee, but we’re ending it like we always do: in complete awe of Carter Cassini.

FORTY-FIVE

JASPER

Thank the holy pits of Hell for Tyson.

Without him, I’d never get to see my little Angel of Death in such pretty fucking predicaments.

The one she’s currently in has her pinned to a metal table, Tyson’s cock lodged down her throat while her body is covered in a mixture of blood and hot wax, with my cock desperately waiting to be in between her thighs.

If I could, I’d live in this exact position, worshiping her like a man devoted to his religion, all while her screams deliver my salvation.

“Oh my god! Please, Jasper!” Carter begs, tangling her hands in my hair, forcing me closer toward her soaked pussy, the wax propelling her into overdrive as she grinds against my thighs for any source of friction, like a perfectly needy little mess.

Just as she whimpers from my tip teasing around her entrance, Tyson resumes his reckoning, shoving his cock past her lips, effectively gagging her as I push through her tight channel, the two of us pumping into her like desperate men.

Our thrusts cause the table legs to screech against the floor, but I pay no mind to that, only focusing on Carter’s rolled back eyes, and the clues her body language leaves us, her heaving chest a tell-tale sign that she’s already close.

Together, we work in unison to work her up, my thrusts becoming reckless as I bottom out, but watching her struggle around Tyson has me on the edge of oblivion, my hand dropping to her clit as I attempt to drag her down with us.

Within seconds, her muffled screams echo around the metal room as Tyson pumps into her mouth, ravaging her throat with reckless abandon, and I lose my restraint as she struggles around him.

Like a tandem bike, he tenses up, shooting his load down her throat, while she squirts all over my cock, soaking us both with her release, and in turn, I lose myself the second her muscles tense.

We’re a perfect unit, operating in complete succession of one another, and within seconds, we’re all over the edge, a heap of bodies tangled as one while we suck in oxygen to regulate our breathing.

“Absolutely perfect, baby girl,” Tyson praises, cupping her cheek as he slowly lifts her head, the redness draining from her face as she regains her ability to take a deep breath.

“I will never get tired of that, my little super soaker,” I chime in, trailing my way up her body and leaving tender kisses along each and every spot the bloody wax stained her precious skin.

“Jesus Christ, that was … exhilarating,” she breathes, her heavy eyes meeting mine as a yawn steals her breath, proving just how much we put her through.

“Come on, Carter. Let’s get you home,” Tyson says, ripping the t-shirt off his body and covering hers as he scoops her into his arms effortlessly.

Her head rests on his shoulder, but her hands reach for mine, the three of us always intertwined, especially after moments like these.

“Wait, we need to deal with him,” she interjects, popping her head back up to find my gaze, and without a single word, I know exactly what she wants me to do.

The blowtorch Tyson used to light the candles sits on the table, just begging to be played with one last time, and like a sign straight from Satan, a can of gas is perched on the shelves hanging from the wall.

“Jasper, light him up,” Carter smirks, another devilish grin forming on her face, a look of hers that I’ll never get tired of seeing.