Page 87 of Art of Sin

My artist’s fingers drag possessively across my slit, spreading me open, gathering my arousal.

“Can you smell her?” he asks darkly.

Finn nods, his nostrils flaring. He licks his lips and my knees promptly buckle—I want that soft, full mouth on me. Anywhere will do.

Gideon sweeps me off my feet and tosses me onto the bed. I bounce, a startled laugh escaping, which fades as I take in the men standing side by side at the foot of the bed. Gideon smiles slightly—more dangerous than humored—and Finn frowns like he’s in pain.

“Gideon?” I whisper.

His gaze flickers up. “Put those on her, will you?”

Finn moves around the bed, reaching for the soft leather cuffs attached by a chain to a ring in the wall. My chest heaves, legs scissoring together as my wrists are bound.

“And that,” Gideon says, nodding to the nightstand.

The blindfold is wide and thick, silken and just the slightest bit weighted. Once it’s tied, the full impact of what’s happening sinks in, as does the knowledge that Gideon set this up—he knew, before I told him, exactly what I wanted.

The scene we watched in the playroom weeks ago floats in my mind’s eye. A woman at the mercy of two men hell-bent on her pleasure.

You are worthy of worship.

“Are you okay?” asks Finn softly.

I laugh away the push of tears. “Yes, so much yes.”

“Good.”

Finn’s soft lips graze my cheek, my neck, ear, shoulder. Hot, tingling kisses trail down my arm and back up, and finally across my chest to my aching nipples. When his hand closes over one peak and his mouth the other, I cry out, my hips lifting from the bed.

With no warning, Gideon sinks two fingers inside me, his rough possession a dizzying counterpoint to Finn’s sensual assault.

Curses spill from my lips as Gideon finds a punishing rhythm with his hand, a thumb jacking against my clit with near painful pressure. Finn seizes my mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing my cries, his fingers plucking my nipples in time with Gideon’s thrusting fingers.

My first orgasm is a flash fire, burning high and hot. As I come down, my harsh breathing mingles with the men’s. Tension radiates in the room. Heavy. Thick.

“Please,” I gasp.

Fabric rustles. Belts and pants and shirts. The bed depresses and I almost sob with relief as heat brackets me. A familiar hand guides me onto my side, my front against his, as Finn frees my wrists from the cuffs. A tug precedes the blindfold releasing. I blink at Gideon, the sharp lines of his face wolfish in the candlelight, his lips curled, eyes dark.

Finn moves against my back, a solid line of heat and muscle. He nestles his face through my hair, kisses my neck as he thrusts gently against my backside. Seeking. Asking.

I answer by lifting my leg and hooking it over Gideon’s hip. He shifts forward, sealing our bodies together. The head of his cock finds my center, dipping inside. One inch, two, then he pulls out and glides the base of his shaft against my clit.

I watch his eyes, angled over my head. I see the permission in them. And the pain. Lube slides, cold and wet, down my ass. Finn’s breath deepens against my neck, his heart thumping hard against my spine. I rock a little, welcoming him while simultaneously seeking Gideon. His reassurance. His love.

He senses my need—shares it—and lifts my chin to align our faces. “Kiss me, Deirdre,” he whispers. “Don’t stop.”

In moments I’m lost in him. The singular way we consume each other, feeding with more than lips and tongues but our very hearts and souls.

Our kiss falters only when Finn breaches my tight ring of muscles. I wince, gasping through those first moments, those first slow thrusts and withdrawals. Gideon strokes my hair, lips on my forehead. Finn is as gentle as possible, movements slow and steady, giving me time to adjust. He whispers against my neck how grateful he is. How much he loves being inside me.

Gideon rocks against me, igniting sensation along my front. My nipples, my clit, my aching center. I’m full, but still wanting. I need more. All of it.

“More,” I beg.

With a long, measured exhale, Gideon gives me what I want. Shattering pleasure followed closely by equal pain. I can’t help a whimper, a flash of real panic. They’re too much. I’m splitting apart.

“Easy, easy,” whispers Gideon. His tensed abdomen is unyielding against my breasts and stomach. A hand curls over my hip, Finn’s fingers finding my clit. Teasing it with an expert touch as he drops kisses on my neck and shoulder blades.

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