Page 117 of Craving Consequences

“Nothing to say?” Lachlan taunts, head cocking. I can’t see their faces, but their grins are loud in the darkness.

Van circles around to the armrest. Long hand slides along the top edge, trailing just over my head as he bends at the waist. Brushes his ear to my lips.

“We’re going to feed you. Then we’re going to hunt you, little doe.”

I jump when Lachlan’s hand presses on my knee, slides up my thigh, tucks under the blanket.

“Open,” he commands, finger hooking into the crotch of my shorts.

My thighs part obediently, but that doesn’t seem to be what he meant when I’m torn out of my wool cocoon. The throw is chucked to the foot of the sofa and his hands are tearing open my pants.

The denim is ripped down my legs and tossed somewhere over his shoulder. Cool air slices up my damp center, eliciting a sharp gasp that is met with twin snickers from my tormentors.

Van steps away, but I’m too focused on the hands Lachlan curls into my knees to notice his direction, especially when I’m shoved open wide. Exposed to the elements and his ravenous scrutiny.

“House rules,” Lachlan says coolly as he crouches down in front of me, wedging his shoulders high between my thighs. “No running outside.” His head dips. Lip grazes my naked hip. “No climbing into anything you’ll hurt yourself or get stuck on.” He drifts inwards across my pelvis and down. “When we call quits, you’ll come out.”

His lips press over mine. It’s so intimate, so like he’d kiss my mouth, I drop back against the sofa, offering him everything. I anchor my heels into the edges of the cushion and lift my hips, giving him room to slice his tongue through the folds. The sweet pressure has my head falling back and my spine arching. A moan escapes and deepens when he repeats it. Slower.

“Lachlan...” I breathe, one hand lifting to fist in his hair, gripping him to me. Caging him in place as he circles the peak with just the tip of his tongue.

I’m so lost in the sweet, agonizing torment that I don’t notice Van’s return until the cushion dips beside me. I feel the heat of his thigh brushing mine, the weight of him settling against my side. His arm casually drapes around my shoulder, and I’m tucked into place.

“Eat.” The sharp scent of grilled meat invades my senses as he lifts a hot dog to my lips. “You’re going to need your strength.”

The absurdity of being handfed while half naked and getting eaten from below should have been amusing, but Lachlan is flicking in rapid succession and I can’t think. I don’t argue as I do as I’m told.

“Adding to the house rules,” he drawls into my ear. “You can run. You can fight.” His lips skim my pulse. The struggling muscles of my throat trying to swallow the chunk I’d taken of my supper. “You can scream.”

Lachlan groans against me in approval, tongue sweeping deeper, arms caging my hips, keeping me open while his friend’s words coil down my spine.

“You can leave marks.” His teeth sink into my neck.

“We’ll be severely upset if you don’t,” Lachlan counters in between laps. “We want reminders of how hard you fought to resist and still let us fuck you.”

I think a sound escapes me, but I can’t be sure of anything when he draws back, settles on his heels. When Van drags my top up over my breasts and palms the one closest to him.

“Don’t make it easy on us, little doe. Because we won’t.” Van brushes his fingers down my sternum. “We’re going to makesure you feel everything in the morning. Take off your bra. Leave the top.”

I’m trembling too hard to follow the orders fluidly. I miss the clasp several times before it’s unhooked. It’s even more work dragging the straps through my sleeves and sliding the bra free.

Van takes it and tosses it somewhere. Even he doesn’t seem to notice when he’s already back at my chest. Palming and sucking. His mouth is hot and wet dragging across the swell. His tongue sweeps over the peak, tasting my skin before sinking his teeth until my cry splits the air.

The sound seems to fuel something in him. He presses me harder into the cushion, practically falling on top of me as he repeats everything on the other breast.

Lachlan takes that as his cue to return to his home between my legs. He matches his friend’s frenzy hurting and biting. Leaving marks where his teeth sink into the inner flesh of my thigh. Handprints on my hips. Every sting, every burn has me writhing under them, begging them not to stop.

Van sinks his teeth into the side of my breast and sucks. Hard. Branding me as Lachlan does the same to my other thigh.

“You are a terrible prey,” Van growls, grabbing me around the throat — not choking, but with authority — and drags me into his lap like a rag doll. “We’re about to violate and destroy your tight little body and you’re leaking all over the couch.”

What can I say when they give me no chance to speak. My wrists are captured and twisted behind my back with his free hand. Pinned between my back and his abdomen as Lachlan pushes to his feet, fingers at the bands of his sweats. Within seconds, his cock is free and Van is holding me prisoner as his friend slams inside me.

It’s rough and violent, and tears burn my eyes, but the sheer, beautiful pain of it has my back arching, lifting to take it again.

“Give us a safeword,” Van murmurs, fingers tightening just enough to cut air, to bring a prickle to my lips. “Because we’re not going to be kind to you.”

There are no words in my head as Lachlan uses me. As he digs all ten fingers into my thighs and wrenches them wider to take even more.

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