Page 150 of Crushing Clover

“It’s nice not to be the monkey in the middle once in a while.” Lucky’s lips curled at one side, with a hint of the evil that lurked underneath his playful exterior.

I didn’t need the bindings to remind me not to move, but it was hot knowing I couldn’t even if I wanted to.

“Let me go!” I complained breathily. I sounded like a whiny, horny mess, instead of like someone who wanted to be taken seriously. The safeword I wasn’t using probably would have helped, but I wasn’t ready to end this yet.

“You’re not convincing anyone here that you really want us to let you go,” Rush mocked.

“Acting isn’t a viable career choice for you,” Saint agreed.

I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I didn’t bother to argue. I was more concerned with their plans. It had been easier when two of them had been preoccupied with holding me down.

Lucky moved something between my thighs that didn’t feel like his hand. I tried to see what he was doing but couldn’t lift my head high enough to figure that out.

“Can someone please check on Mr. All-Gas-No-Brakes? I don’t know what he’s doing down there.”

“He knows what he’s doing,” Rush assured me.

“I really don’t,” Lucky confessed.

I got distracted by the knife again, then moments later I felt liquid seeping through the satin panties they’d dressed me in.

Was that lube? It sure smelled like lube.

“Lucky, why?”

“Stop overthinking and let it happen, gorgeous.” Something rubbed against me over my underwear, and I inhaled at the unforgiving hardness of it. I caught sight of what looked like a short black baseball bat but had no idea what it was.

“What the hell is that thing?” I managed to gasp as he slid it up and down between my thighs, parting my pussy lips despite my panties.

“It’s the billy club we keep behind the bar. Don’t worry—it’s never been used on anyone.”

I tried to get it away from me, but I only succeeded in rattling the cuff on my ankle.

He slid the club up and down my underwear-covered pussy, distracting me from the way Rush was cutting slits into the diaphanous fabric over my belly. Lucky was trying to nudge the club into me with each slide, but he wasn’t moving aside my panties. Instead, he spat on it, adding more natural lube to the synthetic stuff he’d already doused me with.

“Just take my panties off,” I whined, finding myself wriggling and squirming against the thing. Lucky brought his mouth downon my clit and sucked, the satin of my panties thwarting his efforts. It was good, but not good enough. It was delicious torture—almost his tongue, almost his fingers, almost the billy club. “Lucky please!”

Saint was torturing my nipple, almost chewing on the damn thing, making me whimper in distress. Rush’s knife moved lower, parting the last of the fabric over my torso with a final, decisive slice, leaving my sweat-slicked skin the only thing left to cut.

“Do you want me to cut you, Clover?”

I was shaking with the frustration of hands and mouths, teeth and blades, the hard violence between my thighs not giving me quite what I needed. My own arousal scented the air, and I was making sounds that would have made a porn star blush.

“Yes! Fuck, please. Fuck me up. Stab me. I don’t care—I need it…” I babbled, fingers clawed, trying to get at them, muscles bunched against the restraints.

Rush gasped, dragging his knife down, bumping over ribs. At first, I felt nothing, then there was an itching, burning sting. Sweat trickled into the cut he’d made, but it was a release. I bucked my hips against Lucky’s mouth, and his teeth dragged over my clit, through the satin. My begging whimper filled the cavernous room, but I was too far gone to be embarrassed. Saint bit down on my nipple hard enough to make me scream, Rush’s knife sliced again, Lucky tore my panties away, the sting made more delicious by his desperation as his mouth closed over my now-exposed, aching clit.

The twisting heat inside me exploded, and my body arched under their mouths and hands. Lucky doggedly worked a few inches of the far-too-big club into my pussy, fucking me with it, forcing my body to accommodate its impossible girth. Rush swept his tongue up the bleeding cut he’d made along my ribs, his shoulders hunched. Having him draw and taste my bloodfelt almost more intimate than sex. He choked on a moan, lips parted against my skin. Saint swore under his breath, and Lucky whispered something dirty.

I was unbuckled from the bar even faster than they’d tied me down, but my pussy was fluttering around the too-big club, and I was brainless and writhing with desperate need.

They pulled me down, the club fell out of me, and we ended in a tangle on the floor. Pulled between them as they fought over who got to fuck my holes, I begged them to hurry. Rush pushed into my pussy, groaning, only to have Saint force his way in, too. They were under and over me, and having them both squeezed into one hole so quickly would probably have been impossible if it hadn’t been for Lucky using that stupid club on me first. Saint shifted over, and Lucky pressed the slicked head of his cock against my asshole. I wanted to stop them, but I needed them not to.

“Lucky—” Saint cautioned.

But then he was pushing in, too, stretching me to the point of impossible fullness.

It felt as unbearable as I would have imagined.

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