Page 18 of Filthy Rich Daddies
“Be my guest.”
The settings on this thing are extensive. Between his natural aptitude for all things computer and his creatively torturous imagination, he’s commissioned many unusual devices for his playtime. This one has chilling, heating, every type of vibration and pulse, a licking feature that connects to the bunny’s ears, and another two dozen that I doubt we’ll get to tonight. I settle on a pulse rhythm I can control.
Her breaths align with the pulse in short order, and her hands ball into fists. “I can’t…I can’t come again.”
“I’m not sure how you’ll stop yourself from coming, baby.”
“Can’t…it’s not…oh god.”
Colin gives the end of the toy a push, thrusting it even deeper into her. When she whimpers, he grins. “Fuck, I love that sound. You make us hard, you know that, right?”
“Ye—yes.”
“You know you’re ours tonight, don’t you?”
She bobs her head, body tightening from the toy. From his words.
“You’re going to come on my toy. Body too far gone to stop. Legs spread open, unable to close them. Your hands, probably numb by now, useless. Your body is our playground, sweets. Your holes, your skin, all of it is ours.”
“Yes.” She breathes the word.
“We’re going to mark you as ours. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Wha—?”
“It won’t hurt. For now.” He kneels at her side, and Dean takes the other side. Colin checks in with me once, and I give him the nod, so he uncuffs her, letting her limp hands fall. They each take a hand and wrap it around their cocks and hold it, using her hand to jerk themselves off. Each aimed at her tits.
I straddle her leg just below the thigh straps, close enough to use my leg to nudge the base of the toy while I jerk myself off. Fucking her with the toy makes her shake and writhe, but they have her hands, keeping that control from her still. Heat pools in my balls, travels up my spine, but still, I wait. I love watching the toy fuck her deeply, watching the way she tries to fuck it back, the way she can’t keep still, no matter how tied she is or isn’t.
Thalassa Howard was made for sex.
Her body goes rigid and she rapid-fire murmurs, “Oh fuck, I’m coming so hard, fuck oh—” A scream tears out of her core.
“Fuck yes, sweets, that’s it, come for us, and we’ll come for you,” Colin vows.
“Right now,” Dean grunts as he shoots on her tits. Colin releases, his cum landing dangerously close to her mouth.
But I need to feel her come. I lean forward, driving the toy inescapably deep into her pussy. I feel her body throb like it’s trying to push the toy out, she’s coming so hard. Fireworks go off in my brain, and I lose control, coming on her lower belly and leg.
I kiss her belly button and smirk up at her. “You look good painted white.”
7
DEAN
Colin’s ringtonebleats from somewhere deep in the suite, jarring the pleasant afterglow thrumming beneath my skin. His hand slides off Thalassa’s thigh as he mutters an apology and pads toward the guest bedroom, already fielding the call. From the fragments that drift back—“load-balancer,” “timeout stack”—I know our network just sneezed. Only a tech emergency could pull him away right now, which means the outage is real.
Across the massive bed, Atticus stretches, murmurs something contented, then conks out face-first into a pillow like a felled oak. Typical Tic—conquer the world, then hibernate.
That leaves me and Thalassa, bodies warm, sheets tangled, city lights flickering through the open drapes. I prop on an elbow and study her in the hush. Her hair has come mostly undone, and small curls halo her temple, damp with exertion. She has that boneless post-bliss sprawl, but her eyes are alert, hazel bright under low lamplight.
“Hungry?” I ask.
“I could drink a lake,” she says, voice husky.
“Lake’s not on the menu. How about hot chocolate?”
Her face lights up. “Real hot chocolate or powder plus tepid water?”
