Page 388 of Phobia
“Shhh, songbird. Don’t fight me.”
He continued lapping at me, rendering me powerless to argue. I rocked my pelvis into his mouth, yearning for more friction.
Without warning, Bastien scooped me up into his arms and treaded through the graveyard. His friends’ eyes burned my skin as we passed them, and I buried my head into his chest to avoid their stares. What the hell was I doing? This wasn’t me.
Cool marble hit my back and I found myself supine atop an altar tomb, staring up into the sky overhead. The brilliant, pearlescent full moon cast a spotlight over me.
The men closed in on me, lining the periphery of the platform like I was a hot meal served. I felt like the sacrificial virgin about to be given to the gods in some Greek tragedy.
Bastien removed his jacket and crawled over me, sealing his lips to mine. I wrapped my legs around his hips, securing him tightly against me. He kissed me deeply, leaving no surface of my mouth undiscovered. But it wasn’t enough. The hunger inside of me begged to be satisfied. “Bastien, I need you,” I whined.
He pushed off the platform and stood to my side, leaving me exposed and lonely. He craned his neck to the side and called out, “She’s ready.”
“Wait, what?!”
I jolted up but was pushed back down by Bastien. Two of the men in white approached and held my arms down on either side. I thrashed against them with every ounce of strength I could muster. “Let me go!” But, their hold was too strong to break.
My eyes found Bastien’s, and I silently pled for him to call off his goons. But all I found was immoral satisfaction all over his face.
“Remember the rules, boys. This is about my girl. Use any hole to her liking, but her cunt belongs to my cock.” His tone was hard and full of warning.
Loud snickering echoed around me.
“Make my queen sing,” Bastien commanded.
The man whom Bastien had called Jerome approached above my clamped thighs. His face was slender with high cheekbones and skin the color of coffee with cream. My belly vibrated with apprehension, but the fight left my body as soon as the man spoke.
“Relax, babe.” His voice was hypnotic, like waves rolling on the shore, soothing my overstimulated ears and drowning out the throaty sounds the other men were making as they watched.
Jerome’s fingers skimmed my shins, skating up to my knees and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. The callouses on his finger pads offered a welcomed roughness against my sensitive skin, catching my clenched muscles off guard.
“That’s it.” He eased my knees apart and smoothed his hand up my thigh. “I won’t hurt you, unless you want me to.” He flashed me a sly grin as his fingers swiped across my slit. Excitement washed over me, and my pelvis rocked from the contact.
His head disappeared from view, and a torturous shudder ripped through my body as Jerome’s tongue unleashed slow and tender strokes on my clit. His pace was perfectly even, like the steady bounce of ocean water along the horizon on a calm day—lazy and unhurried.
My eyes rolled back, and when I opened them again, I found Bastien staring at me with a smoldering intensity. The arousal on his face heightened the sensations that Jerome was treating me to. My hands moved to either side of Jerome’s head, locking him in place as he ate me, so achingly slow that it was damn near painful.
I don’t know how long Jerome spent between my legs, but it wasn’t nearly as long as my body wanted because my core mourned the loss of his mouth when he stepped aside, his lips slick with my honey.
If Jerome was in his late twenties, the next man that approached seemed to be in his forties. His complexion was lighter than Jerome’s. Thick muscles bulged under his shirt, the tight fabric threatening to rip under the tension. The man stalked toward me like he was marching into battle. I tried to wriggle away, but the men’s grasp on my arms tightened.
This warrior didn’t speak, nor did he offer a smile. Instead, he disappeared between my legs and ate me like I was his dinner. His strokes were hard and hurried like he would stop at nothing to win my orgasm. The pads of his fingers dug into the thin skin on my inner thighs. I could have easily come with Jerome had we had more than just a couple of minutes, but it was never going to happen with this guy.
Bastien caught sight, his jaw ticking at my discomfort. “Enough,” he barked. “Move aside, Leon.”
The response was immediate: the man stopped and trudged away haughtily. It was like Bastien was their leader rather than their friend, from the way they obeyed him without question.
“Marcus and Shawn, your turn,” he ordered, crossing his arms over his chest. Two men neared with their hands joined together. One of the men grabbed the other’s head and sealed his mouth over the other’s lips. Their mouths moved in a deep and intoxicating kiss. The sounds that they were making—the wet noises of their tongues lashing together mixed with stifled moans—pulsed my core. The ogre that had just had me was long forgotten and replaced by the passion the couple before me exuded. Their chemistry together was hot. It was as if they were one person, they read each other’s desires so well, and I was drawn to their aura. They finally broke apart for air, and the one with longer hair said, “Shall we?”
“Together forever, baby,” the one with doe eyes replied. Together, they descended to my lower lips. I moved to prop myself up on my elbows to watch them, but the men who were holding me wouldn’t allow it.
“Let her go,” Bastien’s voice boomed. The king had spoken, and I was released.
I peered down at the men who were before me, still locked at the lips. Their hands grasped at each other; their desire was palpable.
It was such a sight to see. Lips parting, their tongues stroked each other mid-air. They separated only to turn their attention on me. Each man grabbed one of my thighs, and their tongues attacked my folds. My back bowed from rush of not just one, but two tongues lapping at me simultaneously. Their strokes blended into an erotic massage, exploring me in all places at once, it seemed. At times, I could pinpoint where each man worked, one on my clit, the other lower, closer to my ass, setting off my nerve-endings like fireworks. When their tongues melded together against me, I cried out, feeling my edge near. As if following a timer, Bastien executed his order. “Next.”
Man after man rotated through, each pleasuring me with their mouths and fingers. My mind couldn’t keep up with what they were doing to my body. And just when I was about to orgasm, the next would take over. The incessant stop-and-go frustrated me. I felt like I would never find the release that I so desperately needed, and my flaming body was about to combust if they didn’t give me what I wanted.
