Kas fucks my mouth fast and hard until tears stream down my face.
I do choke on him.
With my arms tied behind my back, I have no control over his pace and he is relentless.
He is desperate.
And he is far too big for my mouth.
When he finally comes, it shoots straight down my throat and when he pulls out, I gasp for air.
He staggers away and drops onto the couch, head lolled back at the ceiling where the pixie bugs are darting back and forth in an excited frenzy.
I know how they feel.
I pant out several more breaths as Bash comes around and wipes the tears from my face. “Such a good girl, aren’t you, Darling?”
“Untie me,” I say. “So I can take care of the king.”
He smiles at me. “As you wish.”
When the ropes are gone, I rub at my wrists to bring some of the feeling back to my hands.
I look over at Pan.
He’s stretched out in the chair, his gaze distant. He’s wearing dark denim and a dark t-shirt that skims the rise and valley of his biceps like a second skin.
Dark ink swirls down his arms, and several tendrils peek out around the collar.
He is an unholy sight.
And I will never stop sinning for him.
I move to stand to go to him but he tsk-tsks at me and shakes his head.
“Did I tell you to get off your knees?” he says. “You’ll crawl to me.”
The butterflies turn into a storm of desire and shame in my gut.
He wants me to crawl to him?
He thinks he’s proving a point, that I can’t stay in the game even though he swears he hates to play.
Everything is a game. Especially this.
Everyone is silent, waiting, wondering what I’ll do.
I will not lose.
I am determined to be a feast for Peter Pan, make him a glutton for the taste of me.
I put my hands to the rug and crawl to him.
The book snaps shut in Vane’s hands and my center of gravity sways at the mere thought of him watching me, my back bent like a serpent, my ass in the air.
Maybe if I put on enough of a show, he’ll want in too.
I want to take and take from these men, hoard my spoils like a greedy queen.
When I reach Pan, he opens his legs for me so I can crawl up between them. His gaze is bright and satisfied as I unlatch his belt buckle and pull the leather through the clasp. The metal clanks. Pan watches.
He’s straining against his pants as I undo the button and seeing the bulge of him lights a fire in my chest.
When I have the zipper open, I yank his clothes down, letting his cock spring free.
Rising up, I position my mouth over the swollen head of his cock and his body tenses up, waiting.
I take him in my hand, stroke him slowly, memorizing every ridge, every engorged vein.
He gnashes his teeth.
“I don’t want to share,” I tell him.
His nostrils flare.
“I don’t want to find you with some girl from town sitting in your lap when I’m just down the hall. When it can be me in your lap.”
I sit forward and put my lips an inch away from him and blow out a teasing breath. The head of his cock throbs at the anticipation of my mouth wrapping around him.
“Say it, Never King.”
“Put that pretty little mouth on my cock and maybe I will.”
I inch forward, drag the tip of my tongue over the glistening slit of his dick.
“Say it.”
He groans and rocks his hips forward trying to meet me, so I sink to the base of his shaft and lick up the thick underside.
A puff of air escapes him.
I think he and I both know he could drive into me at any point, but the game is the game. And I intend to win.
The Never King is mine. And I’m going to make him admit it.
I go through the motions like I’m going to lick him again from base to tip, but I keep my mouth just a ghost against him, almost touching, not quite connecting.
The groan that rumbles in his chest is practically animalistic.
“Darling,” he says.
“Yes?”
His eyes slip closed and he summons a deep, settling breath. “The only pussy I will have is your pussy.” His eyes pop open again and he sits forward, grabbing me beneath the arms and whirling me around so that I’m the one in the chair and he’s the one on his knees. “The only mouth that will come near my cock is your mouth.” He bunches my dress up around my waist. “The only girl who will sit on my lap like a pretty little trophy is you.” He hooks a finger in my panties and yanks them aside, baring me. “The only girl I will treat like my personal whore is you.” He sits forward, putting his mouth just over my wetness, giving me a taste of my own medicine.
I tremble with anticipation.
“Will that suffice, Darling?” he says.
I nod emphatically. “Yes.”
He flicks his tongue over my clit, but it’s just barely a glance, a tease more than anything, but I still have the urge to crawl out of my skin.
“Say it again,” he orders.
“Yes, that will suffice.”
He slides his fingers up the seam of my panties, purposefully dragging the backside of his knuckles over my pussy, then my clit.
I shake with the pleasure of it.
“Yes, what?”
I sink into the plush leather chair. “Yes…Pan?”
He spits on my pussy, and slides two fingers up to meet my swollen nub. “Try again.”
“Yes…” I inhale sharply when he slides back down and sticks his fingers deep inside of me. “Yes, my king.”
“Good girl,” he says and finally gives me what I want and need—his mouth on my pussy.
He licks and teases and fucks me with his tongue.
I writhe in the chair, but he has me caged.
I pant and moan at the ceiling.
He is relentless with his mouth.
The pleasure builds in my clit and when he adds a finger, fucking me with three, a high-pitched keening escapes my throat.
I can feel them all watching me.
And I don’t care.
Somehow Pan has shifted the show, made me the audience and the performer.
I buck beneath him. He holds me tighter, his tongue sliding up my wet slit.
“Come for me, Darling,” he says from between my thighs. “Come in my mouth.”
I’m breathing too quickly and my head is swimming and my body is bright with need and desire. The wave rushes in as Pan flicks his tongue against my clit and his fingers fill me up.
I come so loudly, the sleeping parakeets wake and take flight in a flap of wings.
I thread my hand through Pan’s hair and guide him over me as the orgasm pounds through me like an earthquake, shaking every bone.
There is nothing but the pleasure and the heat of it.
When I crash down on the other side, I’m slumped low in the chair with Peter Pan still between my legs, his mouth soaked with my juices.
He slowly rises over top of me and the line of his shoulders blocks out the light so that all I can see is him.
“You want us, Darling, you have us, but you follow my rules. Do you understand?”
I take in several slow, measured breaths.
“Say it, Darling.”
“Yes. Fine. I’ll follow your rules.”
“If you’re hungry for cock, you have four to choose from. Four and no more.” He hooks his hands around my thighs and yanks my ass to the edge of the chair. “If I catch you touching anyone else, I will not be happy.” With my panties still askew, he nestles into my opening. “Tell me you understand.”
“I understand.”
He fills me up and I exhale quickly. His thrusting tempo shifts. Faster. Harder. He bends my legs up and pounds into me and I’m so wet and he’s so hard, we make a loud squelching sound as we fuck.
Pan drives into me, sinking me into the chair. He fucks me like he owns me and maybe in some ways he does.
Maybe I am his property.
Maybe I don’t hate that idea.
Pan is relentless and my pussy takes the pounding.
I will take and take because there will always be power in it.
And I want to be powerful among these powerful men.
When Pan finally comes inside of me, I’m used up and sore and bright with satisfaction.
But there is one more.
One more cock to satisfy.
If he’ll let me.
Pan pulls back and tucks himself away, then drops into the chair beside me.
I sit up and find Vane’s mismatched eyes squarely on me.
He gives me a barely perceptible shake of his head.
But I’m not easily cowed.
I get up, cross the room, Peter Pan’s cum dripping down my thighs.
Vane’s chest rises with a deep breath.
My heart gets lodged in my throat.
In front of Vane, I sink to my knees yet again, but this time my hands are shaking and my mouth is bone dry with anticipation.
I reach forward to undo the button on his pants and Vane snatches me by the wrist as his violet eye goes black.
The terror slithers up my spine and sweat breaks out along my hairline.
Gulping down air, I try to quell the fear erupting into goosebumps on my skin.
I can do this. I can endure him and his terror and prove to him I’m strong.
I reach up with my other hand, determined to have him.
But before I know what’s happening, I’m flown across the room and thrown up against a wall, Vane’s hand wrapped around my throat.
