by Logan Fox
Bailey loosened her hands while Finn untied her feet. The big man was still breathing hard; sweat glistened on his chest. He wished he’d take off his clothes, but Finn seemed shy around the new guy.
But when she was free, Bunny just lay there, gazing up at him with something approaching awe.
“That it?” he asked, scanning her body. “He fuck all the fight out of you?”
“I don’t want to fight you,” she said, still a little breathless.
“So you won’t mind if I go down on you while Bailey watches?”
At this, she squirmed.
Lars used his thumb to pull up her folds, exposing the tiny bud of her clit.
Another twist. A blush working its way onto her cheeks.
“Bailey, do me a favor and hold her open.”
At this, she cringed and tried closing her legs, quick as a bear trap.
Lars laughed at her. “So that’s it? Everyone’s gone all shy around the new guy?”
He pinned down her legs easily enough. But then she was flailing at him with her hands.
“That’s more like it,” Lars said as he settled his weight on her. “Now your high school crush gets to watch me fuck you. Think he likes that, bunny? You think that makes him all warm and fuzzy inside?”
Judging from the guy’s face, he was about to jizz in his pants. But Cora couldn’t know that, and she squeezed her eyes shut, writhing violently under him. She tried kicking him, but with him wedged between her legs she couldn’t do any harm.
Especially when Milo came up behind him and grabbed her ankles, pinning them to the bed on either side of Lars.
He glanced over his shoulder, giving Milo a wide grin. “You catch your breath? Good. I think she still has a little fight in her. Hold her down, would you?”
But, instead, Milo grabbed the front of his throat.
Fuck.
“Milo—”
But Milo’s mouth ground against his, cutting off his protest. That grip around his throat was equal parts hot-as-fuck and utterly disturbing. He knew the man had enough strength in that arm to rip out his fucking trachea. But the fact that he didn’t…that was what made it so delicious.
Cora let out a sigh, and Milo tore away from him. Bailey was kissing the side of her neck, but she seemed oblivious to him. Her fingers twirled around her clit as she gazed up at them, her lips parted and her chest heaving as if she’d started panting again.
Not surprisingly, Milo tugged him back for another kiss.
Cora groaned, her body twitching, and Lars had enough sense of mind to snag her hand away before she could make herself come.
Instead, he guided her tensing fingers to his dick, and let her stroke him as Milo deepened their kiss.
Now he was in two minds about who he wanted to fuck more…Cora or Milo.
But the decision was taken away from him when Milo released his throat and instead grabbed the back of his head, shoving his face between Cora’s legs.
“Lick her until she can’t take it anymore, but don’t you dare let her come.”
Cora moaned at that, but then Bailey turned her face so he could kiss her. Lars slid his tongue inside her, shivering at the taste, and licked the entire length of her slit.
Milo had taken up to stroking him, so he had a free hand to fuck Cora with. Three fingers in, she began bucking and moaning.
They’d have to work on her stamina.
Milo eased up on his neck, and then tugged Cora down the bed, positioning her for him.
Somewhere along the line, she’d gotten hold of Bailey’s dick, and was jerking him off like she had no clue how close he was to coming.
Lars positioned himself right in the sticky center of her cunt and thrust his way inside her.
Cora gasped, her back arching from the bed. Milo moved to her side, trapping her hands above her head so she couldn’t touch herself and bring herself to climax. The other hand jerked Bailey so hard, the man’s face was already contorted like he was seconds away from coming.
And then Milo sat up beside her, got his dick out from his pants, and forced her to stroke him too.
God, what a fucking sight. Lars pounded into her, alternating between watching her trying to jerk off both guys at the same time, and staring down at where he speared into her dark skin.
He had to work on his stamina too; the instant Bailey came, his load splashing all over Cora’s jiggling breasts, Lars came too.
She cried out breathlessly, but he didn’t know if she was more shocked at Bailey’s orgasm or his.
His lasted a fucking lifetime, and then some. She clenched around him, milking him like a fist as he emptied himself inside her. The wonderful mess he’d made was all over him and the bed and her thighs. He smeared it over her clit, working it in until her eyes rolled back, and then stopped again.
Bailey groaned as he sat back on his heels, staring at Cora where she still stroked his dick.
Perhaps she hadn’t realized he was done.
Lars slowly untangled her fingers from Bailey’s dick, wiped her hand over her stomach, and pulled her into a sit.
She looked stoned out of her tree. Her pupils filled her eyes with black, her jaw jittering as she turned eyes glimmering with lust first on him, then Milo.
“I think it’s time you came,” Milo said.
She managed a nod, but it looked as if she was living on another planet right then and just Skyping down to her body to stay in touch.
Milo sat back on his heels, and urged her onto his lap. She went willingly enough, but it looked as if she’d have trouble staying up. So Lars grabbed Bailey’s wrist and tugged the man over the bed. They took up positions on either side of her, propping up her limp body as Milo opened her with his hand and slid his dick inside her.
67
Breathtaking
Her men formed a cocoon around her. Sweat trickled down her back and between her legs. Finn’s cock eased into her, stretching her more than she thought possible. She felt scorched down there, her entrance throbbing with the friction she’d had to endure.
But something waited at the edge of her mind. An electric storm—lightning dancing over its dark, swollen clouds as they blossomed.
She felt weightless as hands lifted her up and then forced her down. Finn filled her, eased out, filled her.
She began to rock, her legs gathering strength. Her back was to Finn, his legs between hers. Hands urged her thighs open even wide, and fingertips massaged her clit.
Finn nuzzled the back of her neck, murmuring nothings into her ear as he thrust into her.
She whimpered and mewled, incapable of speech, and yet begging for him to end her.
Fingers grasped at her breasts, ran nails down her stomach.
Whatever drug Ana had given her had torn her mind apart. She floated, anchor-less, in a sea of electrified foam. Her skin tingled and fizzed, growing tighter as fingers encircled Finn’s cock and urged him harder into her. A mouth touched her clit, and she looked down to see Lars sucking on her, his hand burrowed between her and Finn as he jerked Finn off while he was inside her.
When she turned her head, Bailey’s mouth was waiting.
His kiss wasn’t as gentle as it had been before. He drew ravenously at her, and then guided her hand to his cock. She’d already made him come, but he was hard again, and pumped her fingers down his length eagerly, as if realizing how close her own climax was.
Finn slammed into her now, Lars’s hand out of the way so he could fill her entirely. When her eyes fluttered open, he grinned up at her, his tongue at a point as it circled her clit. She shuddered, folding forward as her body went weak.
Finn slid an arm around her breasts, drawing her back against him until he was on his back and she lay on top of him.
Lars moved forward, rubbing the length of his cock over her, and urging her hand around him. She stroked both him and Bailey, struggling to keep track as her mind tumbled through a whirlwind of pleasure.
“You come for me now,” Finn mu
rmured in her ear. Still cupping her breast, he slid his other hand around her throat. “You come for me now.”
Finn jerked, and emptied himself inside her. Lars sucked at her clit so hard that she gasped and caught her fingers in his hair.
Bailey came over her, this time hitting the side of her face.
And she climaxed with a breathless gasp that stretched into eternity.
68
Something black
Her dress was ruined. Her hair, a crow’s nest. She was sticky with sweat, champagne, and her three men’s cum. She stood in front of Javier’s mirror, idly wrapping a clump of hair around her finger as Finn stroked her shoulders and gazed at her reflection.
“We can still—”
“Finn,” she murmured quietly, catching hold of his fingers. She turned to him, and let him take her in his arms. “Like you said, there’s nothing left for them to take. Everything I am…it’s yours. They can never take that away from you.”
There was a tentative knock at the door.
“Put something on,” Finn said.
She spun around, snagging a dressing robe from one of the ottomans. She’d been wearing it while one of Javier’s maids did her makeup. Makeup that had now been smudged past the point of no return.
Bailey still sat on the edge of the bed, his head hanging down and his gaze fixed somewhere between his feet. Lars was busy trying to finish the platter Ana had brought in earlier.
Her body still thrummed. Mostly from the ecstasy—according to Lars, that’s what Ana had given her—but also in the aftermath of what had just happened. When she tried to think on it, her mind balked. So she let it be, and tried her hardest not to let her mind drift into either the past or the future.
“Cora?” Ana called from outside. “Cora, Javier is—”
Ana cut off with a cry, and the door burst open.
Javier stepped inside as Cora drew her gown over her shoulders and lashed the belt around her waist.
His furious eyes scanned the room, taking in every trace of every hedonistic act that had been performed inside its walls.
When they returned to Cora, they blazed with unholy fire.
“Is this how you plan to present yourself in front of our guests?” Javier’s voice shook.
Cora shrugged. “Why not?”
“You’re a disgrace.” Javier stepped forward, practically bristling with fury. “A disgrace to the cartel. A disgrace to your father.”
Cora drew a long breath. Finn had perked up at that last comment, and made as if to grab Javier.
“No,” she said, her voice filled with quiet command. It rattled her how calm she sounded, how totally unaffected by Javier’s blatant attempt to rile her.
Finn came to a halt, seeming as surprised as everyone else in the room.
She stepped up to Javier, making her way gracefully down the dais. A queen descending her throne to talk with a commoner. And some of that Javier must have felt; his mouth twisted into an ugly grimace as she came closer.
She stood in front of him, tipping her head back, and said, “Don’t ever speak about my father again, do you understand?”
His face went red, but he took a step back as if he couldn’t stand being close to her.
She tried not to let a smile touch her mouth, but the thrill of having him back down chased a wave of energy through her, eradicating every last whisper of fear.
“And the only person who could ever disgrace the cartel…is you.” She pointed a finger at the door, where Ana watched with round eyes and parted lips. “Now go and make sure my guests are ready.” She turned away, stepping up to the dais as she began untangling her hair. “I don’t want them to miss the wedding.”
Ana helped with her hair and makeup. She didn’t bother with layers and layers of foundation and concealer and bronzers. She washed her face, put on some lotion, and had Ana paint wings on the outside corner of each eye. Then, while Ana ran her hair through an iron, she put on some mascara.
Lars had left to fetch their tuxedos, and Bailey and Finn stood on either side of her, watching her transformation from a sex-tousled kitten to a regal panther.
There was nothing they could do about the dress, so Ana ransacked her cupboard and found a white gown with rouched sleeves.
“No,” Cora said, fingering the gown. She looked up at Ana. “Bring me something black.”
When Ana came back the second time, it was with a dress that flowed over her arms like tar. Whenever light touched the fabric, a lick of blood red shone through the black.
It wrapped her like a glove, its high collar flaring open in the front and cutting a sharp V between her breasts.
It was spectacularly wrong for any wedding, and at the same time…absolutely perfect for hers.
Ana drew her hair over her shoulder and braided it into an intricate fishtail, securing it with a piece of black ribbon.
The men had changed into their golden tuxedos. Finn’s fit perfectly, but he looked as uncomfortable as if it was three sizes too small. Bailey looked like a different person; his eyes dancing and his curving mouth hinting at a smile. Lars looked like he’d just walked off a runway in Paris.
When he caught her ogling him, he gave her a dazzling smile, leaned a hand against the stand mirror, and said, “Take a photo. It lasts longer.”
Which made her laugh. And that sent butterflies dancing over her skin.
Endorphins still raged through her body. Maybe that was why she’d been able to face Javier head on without a tremor of fear.
“Let’s go,” Finn said, laying a hand on her shoulder.
She touched his fingers, turning to him and giving him a smile. “Give me a minute.”
Again, confusion flickered in his eyes. But he was still trapped under whatever spell she’d cast over him; he touched his thumb to her chin and left the room, herding Lars and Bailey and Ana out ahead of him.
The door closed behind them, and the room grew silent.
Her eyes darted to the letter where it lay on the coffee table. She sat on the edge of the sofa, picking up the envelope and holding it for a minute. Taking the cheese knife that still lay on the table, she opened the seal.
Her hand began to shake.
Cora drew out the note, but folded it in half again without opening it. She slid it between her belly and the dress, smoothing her hands over stomach to make sure it wasn’t visible.
She knew it was going to make her cry; she’d read it after.
Light caught the ruby ring on her finger, and she grimaced at it. Her skin was still red where she’d tried to get it off this morning, but right now she couldn’t feel a thing; pain, just like her fear, had slunk away in defeat. Cora licked her finger, drew a deep breath, and slowly pulled at the ring. It stuck on her knuckle, but she began twisting it, pulling hard with every revolution. Just when she thought her skin would tear, the ring popped off.
She tumbled sideways on the cough, laughed at herself, and hurriedly pushed herself upright.
Holding out the ring, she twisted it in the light, her mouth in a small, rueful smile. Javier seemed to want to throw every possible insult her way. He knew her father liked rubies and that he’d given one to her mother as a wedding ring. So he’d gone and found Cora a ruby wedding ring.
Had he been egotistical enough to inscribe something sinister inside? Maybe a ‘mine, forever’, or ‘with this ring, I thee bind?’
She turned the ring, and saw the letters carved inside.
Her world fell down around her, silent as a glacier collapsing on a muted television.
Naomie, mi—
Her fingers closed reflexively over the ring as her head buzzed.
No.
She opened her hand.
The words, Naomie, mi corazón, mocked her.
Her hand snapped closed again.
Swallowing hard, she brought the ring back to her finger. She was shaking so much, that it stuttered against her finger as she slid it back on.
She forced herself to br
eathe. Her trembling hand trailed over the coffee table, clattering coasters against the platter until she could grab the cheese knife.
Carefully, urging her hand to stop shaking, she guided the small, sharp knife between her breasts. Ana’s dress wasn’t as tight as her wedding dress had been, but there was still a higher likelihood of her cutting herself than it falling out.
She turned back to the mirror, and stared at her reflection.
Her lips trembled before she steadied them with iron resolve.
“Goodbye, Cora Swan.”
69
A Black Wedding
Her men escorted her through the villa, across the garden, and into the park that sat between the stables and the villa.
A massive Bedouin-style tent had been set up in one corner, with golden ropes barring the way. Inside, she could see the shapes of round tables and chairs—enough to seat over a hundred people.
Finn had her by the elbow, but it wasn’t to guide her. Perhaps it was just to keep contact with her skin. It was a reassuring touch, and she leaned her weight into him for a second as they rounded the tent.
A wedding arch had been erected on a platform at the end of a runway carpeted with golden silk.
White roses bristled from the corner of each of the twenty benches arranged down either side of the aisle.
No one seemed to have noticed her yet, shielded as she was by a rambling bougainvillea that climbed over the fence separating the park from the path leading from the villa.
Javier appeared around the corner, his mouth a fake smile carved from marble. As soon as he saw her dress, his mouth turned down. He beckoned to someone still inside, and Miguel arrived. His smile was true, and didn’t change as he began frisking her men. Finn made a low warning noise in the back of his throat when Miguel came up to Cora. Lars murmured something that might have been, “Touch her, and you die.”
