Page 20 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
And then Sean turns me and drops to his knees in front of me. “Look at me.”
I do, and everything disappears.
Sean’s eyes drag up my body like he’s memorizing me cell by cell. “You lookfilthystanding there in that outfit, cuffed up like a pretty little problem for us to solve.”
My breath stutters.
Wesley’s hand is still at my neck, stroking the collar like he owns it. Ownsme. “You want all three of us to ruin that shiny little outfit?”
I nod quickly.
Sean’s smile is cruel and perfect. “Then beg for it.”
My mouth opens before my brain can catch up. “Please, sir,” I whisper. “I need it. I needyou.I need all of you.”
“Atta girl,” Huck growls, his mouth now at my shoulder, kissing over the vinyl-covered curve. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
Sean’s fingers hook into the open slit of the outfit between my legs. Feathery strokes on the outside of me. “You’re soaked already. Is that us, or the outfit?”
I swallow. Can’t think straight. Can’t believe this is them. But I couldn’t be more grateful for it. Playing with strangers can be dangerous.
“It’s you. All of you.”
“Always been a good girl under pressure,” Wesley teases.
“I’m not good,” I breathe. “Not tonight.”
Sean’s fingers slip inside me, and I nearly come undone from that alone. He’s precise. Devastating. The other two keep me upright while he wrecks me from the inside out. I can’t touchhim—any of them—and it’s making me crazy. But his fingers on my G-spot are worse. Better. Amazing.
“I want her on her back,” Huck rumbles. “Want to see her fall apart.”
“Bed,” Sean agrees.
They unhook me fast, but not carelessly. I’m carried by Huck—carried—into my room like I weigh nothing at all. Wesley tosses a towel over the mattress without comment, and Sean lays me down with one big hand splayed over my belly to keep me still.
“You safeword, and that’s it,” Sean says, looking me in the eye. “We do not play past that. You hear me?”
“Yeah.”
“Color?”
“Still green,” I gasp.
He nods.
Then Huck’s mouth is on me.There, between my legs, and he groans like he’s been starving for it. His tongue is fast, filthy, and relentless. Heat builds. Pleasure annihilates. I can’t breathe. It feels different from anyone who has ever gone down on me, and I can’t figure out why because my brain has left the building.
Sean moves to my side, his hand gripping mine. “That’s it. Let go. You’re safe.”
Wesley strips down to nothing but a low sound in his throat, and when he kneels beside my head and strokes a hand down my hair, I feel like I’m floating.
“You were made for this,” he says. “To be worshiped. To be owned.”
Huck licks harder. I scream. And then I come on his face—hard, fast, uncontrollable. Sean holds me down while I thrash. Huck doesn’t stop, not until I’m begging, not until I’m shaking so hard I forget my own name.
I barely register Wesley’s mouth pressing to mine, or the way his hand finds my hip like he’s anchoring himself too.
When I come back to earth, they’re all watching me. Each of them naked. They’re so different from each other. Sean is lean, tan muscle, from his sandy buzz-cut head to his toes. Solid. No major scars, aside from the one in his brow. No tattoos I can see from the front either. Just miles of glorious, ripped muscle.
