Page 23 of Not Safe for Work
He turned her around so her pert little ass was in Hartford’s view.
And bent her over at the waist to reveal the secret between her legs.
There was a wetness that glistened between the cheeks of her backside. It had made a dark circle on her pretty peach underwear—clearly visible from that angle.
Or at least it was clearly visible when Abel forced her to stand with her legs farther apart. “Wider,” he said, and though her cheeks flamed, she did it.
Part of her even wondered if that was why she did it. There was something electrifying about the shame and the humiliation of this. All she had to do was think of Hartford staring at the evidence of her excitement, and heat pulsed through her body. A gasp broke out of her. And again when Hartford finally spoke.
“You filthy girl,” he said.
But it was the tone behind the sentence that really got to her. That note of dark pleasure. The hiss of his breath around each word.
She had to clutch at Abel to keep herself steady. She pressed her face into his thigh to stop herself from losing control.
Though she lost it anyway. Two seconds after Hartford spoke those words, she slid a hand beneath the elastic of her panties. Hesitantly, at first, furtively, but then Hartford told Abel to take those ruined panties off and she just couldn’t seem to stop herself. Her fingers found her clit and suddenly she was rubbing and stroking it and oh, oh . . .
That was good.
That was what she needed.
Some sweet relief from this torture.
Because it was torture. It was so much more intense than anything they’d done, while fantasizing and having fun together. That had all been just a game, she realized now. A playful sort of practice meant to enhance what they already had.
The real thing took her deeper.
It made things sharper, hotter, more out of control.
Anything could happen. Including Hartford saying:
“I want you to take her. Take her now, like this.”
As if he can’t wait any longer for someone else to do the thing he wants,her mind whispered. And her mind was right. She glanced up at him, and saw his tense expression had entirely gone. It was all desire now, all desperation, every inch of him just waiting for Abel to do as he was told.
Not that he had to wait for long.
He turned her to face Hartford before Hartford had finished speaking. Two fingers pressed into her slick little hole, both of them twisting and parting until she was open for him, ready for him—and then it was just a matter of unzipping. Finding a condom. Easing into her, one slow inch at a time.
And oh god, when he did . . .
She had to force herself not to rush back against him, the way she usually tried to. But after a second of his cock filling her and his steady hands on her hips and Hartford watching, and watching, and watching, she could barely resist. It was taking all her effort just to keep on her feet. Asking her not to move, not to seek that sweet sensation, not to buck and twist and moan . . . it was impossible.
She needed it, and she took it.
She pushed back against him, at first awkwardly, hesitantly. But then when the pleasure spiked through her, all other considerations seemed to fall away. She didn’t think whether Hartford would like it. She didn’t think about whether Abel would, either. Some greedy part of her simply took over, and suddenly she was bucking and gasping. Her fingers were strumming her clit again, faster and firmer until finally, finally her orgasm was right there. Just a little more of his cock.
Just one more stroke over that swollen bud . . .
Oh, and some insanely thrilling words from Abel.
“See how much she likes you watching her fuck?” he said.
And then she was there. She was shuddering and moaning, pussy clenching tight around his cock. Every inch of her alight with new and impossible sensations to the point where she could hardly stand it. She tried to groan to get some of the incredible pleasure out and only succeeded in a soundless scream. She was bursting—her body was bursting.
But the glorious agony didn’t end there.
“Want to see her do it again?” Abel asked.
