Fill Her Up (Daly Way Series, Book Three) (8 page)

“Would it be slutty of me to dive in?” she asked. She only had the weekend with Patrick and Sim. She didn’t want to delay anything.

“Around these parts? You know better than to ask that. Relationships move far faster than in the city. Lazy country life doesn’t apply to our love lives.”

“Then…I’d kinda like to meet them. Right away. With me naked in Patrick’s bedroom.” She grinned as she thought of releasing her inner whore. “This one time, the four of you can do whatever you want with me.”

“Honey, are you sure?” he asked, but she saw the interest in his eyes when she looked.

“I think it’s for the best. Otherwise, I’ll think too much. This might get me through it the first time.” She grinned. “Your prisoner of lust.”

He chuckled. “I don’t know… Are you asking to be tied?”

She nodded. And blindfolded. Just this first time. Might be exciting.”

“If…if your sure,” he said reluctantly.

“I promise it will be okay,” she laughed. God knew she’d read enough erotic books with the heroine in a similar position. Except not with four men. And not in modern day. Not with men she knew. Okay, what she’d read wasn’t very similar to what she proposed, but in her fantasies, it was just like this.

Sim stood and grabbed a large, fluffy towel from the rack. “Out of the tub with you. Let’s get started.”

Verity stood and stepped into his arms. With meticulous attention, he dried her, paying attention to get her very dry
and
very wet. Turning her away from him, he dropped the towel and pulled her to his chest. His hand slid down her side. Sighing with pleasure, Verity leaned her head to his shoulder and widened her stance as his palm reached her pussy. Without waiting for further permission, he pushed inside her slit. She groaned as two fingers thrust inside her pussy. His thumb strummed over her clit, firing lightning along her limbs. Her body relaxed, letting free the cream he desired.

“Yes…I want you so wet,” he murmured into her ear. She rocked her hips into his drives, whimpering as her release drew near. Her breath caught as it crested. Diabolically, Sim wrenched free his hand and stepped back. His grasp clamped onto her waist to steady her.

“No orgasm just yet,” he told her.

“Sim,” she begged. Frustration pulled tight across her forehead. “Please.”

He didn’t relent. “Let’s get you ready,” he said, capturing her wrist and drawing her to the bedroom. He pulled the comforter and top sheet off the bed and tossed them into the chair she’d used earlier. The pillows soon followed.

“Kneel in the middle if the bed,” he instructed. If possible, her arousal drew even sharper as she did what he’d told her. Patrick had been right. She liked it rough and being ordered about—sexually anyway, as long as it was consensual.

Sim dug in the bedside table and came up with a fist of scarves. She almost protested until she saw he had to pull tags off the lot. Apparently Patrick had considered this option at some point but hadn’t followed through.

Climbing up beside her, Sim wrapped one of the silky scarves around her wrists. He yanked them together forcefully, yet when he tied the bonds, she was quite comfortable. She suspected he was, again, being rough for her benefit. Next, he tied one of the lengths around her eyes, blocking out her vision. A tremble shot through her. Was she really going to kneel here naked and bound for men she didn’t know?

The coil of tension in her belly said, oh yes she was. She was so wet, she suspected her cream would reach her thighs by the time Sim returned with the others.

To her surprise, he tied the other scarf around her mouth, working it between her lips to gag her.

She was their prisoner.

“Kneel there with your knees apart,” he ordered, “and don’t you move from that bed.”

She nodded. His footsteps padded across the room and out the door. She heard him go down the stairs. A murmur rose on the first floor, but she couldn’t hear what was being said. They probably thought she was insane. She probably was. But she wouldn’t fight the anticipation making her breasts tight and her pussy tingle with unbelievable expectation.

She forced herself to relax when she heard the footsteps ascending from below. Pushing her wrists downward, she arched her back, presenting herself. Wasn’t that what a perfect whore would do? She was neither, but it helped her bravado.

Verity could hear them breathing. Waiting. She wanted to beg them to touch her, but she couldn’t with the gag in her mouth.

An unfamiliar hand trailed down her arm, and she flinched despite herself.

“Are you here of your own will?” one of the new men asked.

“Of course, she is,” Patrick snapped.

“Verity?” the voice insisted, and she knew Patrick and Sim had told them at least a little about her.

She nodded.

“Good. ‘Cause I think you might be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Another set of fingers skimmed over her breast. Two more touched her torso, moved to her ass, down to her thighs. None of the touches were particularly sexual, even the hand on her breast avoided her nipples. They were gentling her, much like a skittish mare. They wanted her calm so she didn’t rear up and hurt someone. She let them, though their strokes had the opposite effect—every trail of a fingertip stoked her arousal higher and made her wild to feel them intimately. Her mind cleared of everything but the mating. She needed them to fill her.

Her hands were trapped beneath her as they laid her back on the bed with her feet braced on the edge. She moaned behind the gag as two men held open her knees. She felt the shoulders of a third against her thighs. His fingers parted her folds, and she trembled as hot breath wafted over her wetness. The fourth man sat beside her. He slid his hand over her belly to her pussy then slid along her slit.

“Darlin’, you’re so wet,” he said. Patrick. He rubbed her clit, circling and pinching it. The orgasm Sim had denied her lurched within her middle, but fear held it back. She wasn’t sure she could find release with strangers. What would they think? Could she lose that control?

Need clawed over her skin. She writhed to push it away, to find relief.

Hands captured her breasts. This time her nipples were the target as the mounds were kneaded beneath expert masters. She cried out when the peaks were tugged, shooting fire to her core. Her pussy clenched. She moaned, knowing more cream seeped forth.

“Perfect,” murmured the man between her legs. It was either Regan or Conlin. She didn’t recognize his voice.

That orgasm—the one she’d fear wouldn’t come—tore a scream from her throat when his mouth finally descended. Slowly, he flicked his tongue over her quivering folds. He engaged both of his hands, holding her wide open for his feast. Patrick never stopped stimulating her clit, working the tiny ball of nerves with the exact pressure to make her crazed.

She jerked as two mouths claimed her breasts. They sucked hard, pushing their tongues over her nipples. The two broke into a freeform of pleasure, each exerting different pressure, one licking while the other nipped or sucked or blew to chill the tip.

Patrick left her side. She experienced a moment of fear—he’d been her touchstone. Where was he going? He dragged down the gag, letting it rest damply against her throat. Climbing over her, he pressed his cock to her lips. She opened readily, moaning as he slipped inside. The sensation of his wide head pushing over her tongue brought a second moan. It was right then that she realized the men were naked. They’d taken off their clothes before coming into the room. Surely, Patrick wouldn’t have been the only one without garments. No… She didn’t sense cloth from a shirt against her thighs.

A pleasant shudder clenched through her belly. All four were naked. All four were giving her pleasure and taking their own pleasure on her. It surprised her that she wanted this, that she desired it so much—losing control, being used, being subject to their desires and what
they
wanted.

Underlining her thought, Patrick reached down and threaded his fingers in her hair. He lifted her head, re-angling her to better take his cock. She jerked, choking as he pushed deep. Panicking, she struggled for control. He pulled back, but a moment later moved forward again. Her eyes watered as he repeated the action until, slowly, her throat opened for him. Goose bumps crawled along her arms as a sense of triumph filled her. She sucked him, pressing her tongue to the thick vein running the underside of his cock.

Just when she though he might come, he pulled away.

“Don’t,” she pleaded.

“Oh no, honey. I’m not coming in your mouth. We’re all going to fill your pretty little cunt. Conlin. I think Verity’s mouth needs your attention.”

Oh no… Sim had told them her fantasy. She could tell by Patrick’s demeanor. She wasn’t sure if she was horrified or pleased.

She sucked in a gasp as Conlin pressed his cock to her lips. He grasped her hair a little rougher than Patrick had. “Open up,” he demanded.

Her eyes went wide behind the blindfold. Her breath rushed in and out of her. She couldn’t do this… These men weren’t anything like Patrick and Sim.

“Relax, darlin’,” Patrick murmured near her ear. “Con might be the nicest man you’ll ever know. He’s just playing for you. Understand? Sim and I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

She nodded.

“Now open up for him,” Patrick commanded, his voice harder as he slipped back into his role.

Slowly, she parted her lips. Conlin immediately pushed in, not pausing until he hit the back of her throat. Ruthlessly, he fucked in and out, commanding all her senses so thoroughly she nearly missed the sound of foil ripping.

A muffled scream sounded around Conlin’s meaty cock as Regan drove into her pussy. Even with Sim’s ministrations and Regan’s oral pleasure, the shock of the penetration shook her. He didn’t pause, starting a relentless pummel while he held her hips angled the way he wanted.

Someone bit her nipple, and she felt her world slide sideways. Everything became fuzzy. A roiling mass of sensation tingled around her body, a blanket of pure pleasure. Vaguely, she heard Regan bellow. He stiffened in her cunt. Sparks flew through the disorienting space that had claimed her. She was soaring, falling, exploding.

As Regan moved away, another man took his place. Conlin left her mouth. Another cock filled it. Always there was a man in her mouth, a man in her cunt, two mouths on her breasts as they moved around her.

Verity lost track of her orgasms. Her cheek rubbed the sheet beneath her, and she wondered how she’d ended up this way. Her shoulders were to the mattress, her ass in the air. They’d moved the gag back over her mouth. One of the men knelt behind her. He held the hands bound at the small of her back as he covered her, bucking into her like a stallion covering his mare. She made a small sound, telling him she accepted him. Her cunt creamed for him.

“Not quite yet,” he grated.

She startled as one of the men moved beneath her. His legs forced hers further apart, opening her. The two adjusted her so the head of the second man’s cock pressed to the opening of her well used pussy. She knew she was ready for him.

Shock screamed through her when she felt the man over her press his cock to her pussy, too. No, she couldn’t take two there at once.

“Relax,” Patrick said against her ear and she realized he was the man beneath her. “If it’s too much, Sim will stop.”

Gradually, they pushed forward. Verity groaned at the nearly painful fullness, but they moved slowly enough to let her body adjust—kind of. She knew her body couldn’t really adjust to two cocks in her pussy at once. Tears streamed down her cheeks as they seated to their bases. The intimacy of the three of them united this way overwhelmed her.

“Okay?” Patrick asked.

She whimpered but nodded. If she came now, she might be ripped apart. Sim shifted. With infinite care, he worked in and out of her. Though it felt like full-on, in-and-out drives, she supposed he was only moving fractions of an inch, giving her and Patrick pleasure without hurting her. Every movement pushed Patrick against her g-spot, and despite any fear, tremors started through her. Tension pulled tight in her belly. When Conlin and Regan reached between her and Patrick and pinched her nipples, she exploded. Flaming colors burst before her eyes as her ears buzzed. Her entire body shook as sizzling energy, nearly painful in its intensity, raced along her veins.

And she screamed. She’d never screamed so loudly during sex, yet it poured from her, uncontrollably, until she collapsed and blackness claimed her.

“Holy hell,” Conlin swore, looking down at the woman sprawled across the bed. Sim grinned down at her. That moment when he and Patrick had stretched her, he’d known… Verity was destined to be theirs forever. Now, they had only to convince her. Carefully, he released the scarves around her eyes and mouth then he reached for the one holding her wrists and untied that one as well.

“She’s really special,” he told the two visitors. Gently, he smoothed her hair from her face. He combed his fingers through the damp tangles. They’d have to be careful with her. She couldn’t take them both like that often. They couldn’t always be rough. Sometimes, he just wanted to cherish her.

Patrick came out of the bathroom with her robe and a cloth. While Regan and Conlin made themselves scarce, Patrick parted her legs and pressed the warm washcloth to her puffy lips. Verity moaned in her sleep and tried to curl into a ball. He held her leg to keep her still while he took care of her. Finally, he tossed the fabric away. Together he and Sim drew her to the head of the bed. She curled up on Sim’s chest.