Page 21 of The Gift that Keeps On Giving

“Do I think you’re sweet?” His ass is starting to flex with the need to thrust. “You’re the sweetest creation on the face of the earth.”

She shifts around beneath him, gasping.

“Keep that up and I’ll start banging like a fiend, little girl,” Dean manages between pants. “Once I start, I ain’t stopping, so lie still and get used to me.”

“I’m…almost…r-ready…” She breathes in and out for another few moments, then raises her arms up, settling her crossed wrists above her head. And she rolls her hips in a way that makes Dean bray like a beast. “There. I’m ready for my owner.”

“Oh Jesus Christ,” he grits out, bearing down on her, his lower body lifting up and scooping down, shuddering as he grinds deep, deep inside her pliant body while she wails his title. “There’s my girl. Give Daddy what he’s been aching for.”

“No more aches,” she pouts.

Holy shit. If I hadn’t ejaculated so recently, my spend would be all over the floor by now. As it is, I’m hanging on by a thread, watching Dean fuck Ruby, harder and harder, the bed rocking faster, faster, the headboard crashing off the wall. His breathing is ragged, jaw slack, his balls bouncing off her young ass. And it’sthe way she’s looking up at him in awe, with the utmost respect and hero worship, that turns my crank the hardest. She’s having her body ransacked with no quarter and all she can do is look horny and grateful.

“I want to be the one who shares this bed with you,” she purrs, lifting her snug-looking cunt in time to his drives. “That’s how I want to be spoiled. Not with clothes and jewelry. I want to be your favorite.”

“Youare, little girl.” He flattens her with a growl, tight slams of his hips that grow progressively violent. “Believe me, you and this little fuck hole would be any man’s favorite.”

“Show me you mean it,” she murmurs, opening her knees wider and allowing him to plow another inch deeper. “Move me in here.”

“Baby…”

“Kick her out,” she whispers, barely audible, but I can read her lips. Can read the wicked intention in her innocent blue eyes. “Makemethe mommy.”

A saint would come after that—and Dean is far from a saint. That becomes clear a second later when he drives Ruby up the bed with a monster drive, grinding deep and rough, roaring into her neck to signal the overstimulation of his body. He comes so hard, I can hear the thick liquid squishing into her little cunt, his hips rocketing up and back to stuff it in deeper, deeper, deeper.

“Daddy!” she gasps, her own climax rendering her stiff, arched, then shaking. “Oh Daddy, your come is so hot. It feels so good!”

Good lord.That’s my cue.

One more tight slide of my fist and I fire a spurt of semen across the hard wood floor, followed by another, another, my throat straining from the volume of my moans. It’s a three-way euphoria filling the room, lighting it in a violet haze, all of uscollapsing under its power, delirium stealing through the tutor and her two obsessive lovers.

Chapter Nine

Ruby

Icrack one eyelid open to a dim bedroom, warmth cradling me from behind.

Dean. It must be Dean, because Cameron is sprawled out, asleep, in the chair on the other side of the room in a pair of boxer shorts. A gorgeous, messy-haired prince in repose, while the king breathes deeply behind me, a possessive hand high on my outer thigh, my naked backside snug to his sticky lap.

I’m not sure if I’ve been asleep for hours or minutes, so dense was my loss of consciousness, but I don’t feel as though I’ve gotten too much rest. In fact, I’m exhausted…but in an exhilarated, naughty kind of way.

A smile paints itself onto my mouth as snippets of my lovemaking session with Dean come back to me.

How unfettered and wild I felt beneath him, his sex so thick and throbbing, his lust sharper than barbed wire, all for me, all for the little girl act that slipped over me like a second skin. This persona that comes so naturally to me can work forCameron and Dean…for different reasons. There’s something here. Something magical I never expected and it’s taking shape, moment by moment.

They probably don’t even realize what’s happening.

To be fair, they’ve been a little distracted.

With a silent laugh, I scoot out of bed and pad out to the kitchen, topless in my rumpled plaid skirt and knee-high socks, stretching and yawning as I go. It takes me a few minutes to track down my phone, but when I do, I check the time—1:15 am—and decide to check in with Polly and Molly in a three-way text.

I weigh the phone in my hand before I start to type, hesitating. Because for the first time since arriving at the house, I’m feeling…guilty. Before I agreed to do this, the women assured me a million times that there was no reason to feel an ounce of guilt for sleeping with their husbands. After all, it was their idea! They condoned it. However…

I think I underestimated the feelings I still have for Cameron and Dean.

Feelings I developed as a freshman in college, when we all got so close.

Did I ever truly let go of them?

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