Page 16 of Poisoning Ivy
Humiliation eats at my stomach like acid, and my skin is burning with the weight of all their eyes on me, even if I can’t see them.
“I can’t.” I shake my head, trying to bite my lip to keep it from trembling.
“You can ride the pillow, or you can ride the axe handle.” Killian says calmly.
My eyes flicker to the fireplace, where the red axe is propped up against the grate, ready to split the logs piled up in the nook. My eyes widen as panic fills me, not even sure how he thinks I could accomplish it. The handle is thick and coated with a rubber grip, and attached to the bottom of it is a wickedly sharp, shiny blade.
I don’t know these men. I’m not sure I ever did. I’m not willing to take the chance that he won’t grab the axe and shove it up my pussy if I don’t do it myself.
A few more tears slip down my cheek as I lower my hips to straddle the pillow. The ridged seam catches against my clit and I suck in a sharp breath, easing myself slowly back and forth along it. I’m facing Cody, just the way I was when they put me here, and the contempt on his face makes me hate myself almost as much as I hate him.
“How long?” I ask, closing my eyes to try and keep the rest of the tears in.
“As long as it takes.” Killian says, as if that were obvious. And I guess it should have been.
“Show your husband what it looks like when you come, Tiger Lily,” Theo says softly, in a voice that’s clearly only meant for me. My stomach tightens at the old nickname, at the gentleness in his tone, at the confusing spike of arousal his words give me.
A small moan passes my lips as I sink deeper into the pillow and tilt my hips down. The rough surface feels wrong against such an intimate space, but as I grind my clit back and forth along the fabric, my breathing growing faster and jerkier, it also feels so damn right.
“Ah,” Killian clicks his tongue. “That’s it, Bambi. Ride the pillow. Show your husband that good whores deserve to orgasm, too.”
The heat reaches deeper, and I clench the pillow tighter. I can’t get any balance with my arms still tied behind my back, but I’mso close. And I’m fighting the orgasm as much as I’m craving it, because even if I do this and he lets me up, I know they aren’t done humiliating me.
But I’m not sure I’d stop right now if I could. The heat is spreading fast, pressure building deep inside of me as I work myself toward the edge.
“She’s close,” Monty breathes, and I wonder if I’m imagining the huskiness in his voice. “She won’t last long now.”
A moan rolls through my throat, and I toss my head back, the blood rushing in my ears as the crescendo builds. I’m about to combust, the pleasure too much to take, the clenching of all my muscles making it hard to keep going.
“You’re divine, Tiger Lily,” Theo moans, and I want to open my eyes to see if he’s got his cock out. But I’m too focused on getting to the precipice with the right momentum so that when I launch myself over, I can freefall.
“Fuck that pillow like the whore you are.” Killian commands, his dark voice such a stark contrast to the gentle cadence of Theo’s whisper. “Show your husband that you don’t need his limp dick.”
The mention of my husband watching should bring me more shame and make me fight harder not to come. Instead, those words undo me.
Pleasure explodes throughout me, the heat spilling from deep in my core and rushing over my skin as I reach the edge and promptly hurl myself over it. I don’t realize I’m screaming until the ache deep in my stomach eases and the blood pumping in my ears calms enough to let me hear my own sounds. It wanes naturally as I rock myself through the orgasm, grinding through the aftershocks until the earthquake in my body comes to a stop as I do, taking a shaky breath to replace the one I’d been holding onto as I chased the orgasm.
“Fuck.”
I don’t know who muttered that, but I do know it’s Theo who catches me against him as I sway forward, too exhausted to maintain my balance anymore. His hand tangles in my hair, rubbing circles on my scalp as he holds me against his thigh, my face buried in his jeans as he gives me the minute of rest I need to recover.
“Your wife comes like a porn star,” Killian says finally, his voice piercing the relative din of silence. It sounds strained, but he seems to realize as much and clears his throat so that it’s stronger this time. “You’ve been missing out, Doc.”
“I’ll say.” Monty groans. “That may be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen… or at least a close third.”
He doesn’t mention the first two, both of which I can take a guess at, and I’m idly grateful for it.
“Shall we show him what else he’s been missing out on?”
Chapter eleven
Theo
I don’t know how any man could have that at his disposal and not want to spend every moment buried inside her, every part of her. There aren’t enough words in the dictionary to describe how hot that was—watching her struggle to accept the pleasure, and then again to accept the orgasm? She’s bewitched me, and probably all of us.
I bend down to press my mask against the top of her head, pressing a kiss to the spot. It’s the best I can do for now, but I have a feeling once my lips do touch her, I’ll never be able to get them off. But it’s not my lips that get to touch her right now.
We’ve learned to read each other just in hints and glances—when you’re as close as we are for as long as we are, you take on a symbiotic sort of synergy. Monty grabs the knife from his pocket and flips the blade open, admiring the tip of it by touching the top of his index finger to it. He draws up to stand before Cody, who’s busy glaring at his wife, who still rests against my leg, having no choice but to accept my support or fall face-first on the wood floor.
