by Kathryn Moon
Mary was on her knees in front of Hunter, her hands and head bobbing methodically, but it was Hunter who interested me. He was fully undressed, scars and twisted muscle exposed, and his hands fisted the bench couch rather than digging into Mary's hair. His eyes were on my ass, huge mouth hanging open and breaths panting, and every so often, his face took on a twisted pained expression, thighs twitching and hips bucking up a little. Hunter had tried to pull Mary onto his lap earlier, lips catching one brief kiss on her throat before she wrestled him away and helped herself to the floor.
If Magdalena had assigned Hunter to me, I would've had him spread out, riding him for all to see, and I felt sorry for him, stuck with Mary, even if he didn't seem so aware of how much she resented him. I hoped he found a nicer girl when Mary finally took off, and I hoped she hadn't robbed him blind by then.
"Esther," Auguste growled, and I blushed as I realized I'd been caught paying too much attention to another man. "Are you bored?"
Ezra huffed against me, nipping at the lips of my sex and making me squeal. I shook my head quickly as Auguste pushed off the wall, coming to crouch in front of me, drawing my eyes down between his thighs.
"But—Ohh, yes—But if you wanted to keep my mouth busy…” I gasped out, and one of the other men in the room chuckled before groaning, wet flesh starting to clap faster from their corner.
Auguste grinned and kissed my forehead, glancing over my shoulder in Ezra's direction. "Get her off, and then it's his turn."
"His?" I squeaked, and then I was holding on to the cushion for dear life as Ezra's face smothered itself in my sex, sucking and nibbling and licking me in a mad rush to my finish.
My back arched, lifting and pressing my ass into Ezra's mouth as I buried my cry into the velvet.
When he pulled away and left me loose and panting on the settee, I opened my eyes to find a familiar pair of shiny black shoes in front of my nose.
"Oh, is she going to—" The woman's question was cut off with a muffled whimper.
I raised my head slowly, jaw sliding open as I gazed up at the vast and bare chest of Booker. His stone skin glowed and shined with the lamplight, marble transformed by shades of stained glass.
"Mortimer really is an artist," Ezra said, appearing at last, wiping his arm across his damp beard as my three men gathered together, Ezra admiring Booker with me. Auguste spared the golem a glance and a smile, but his focus was on me.
"Up, Esther."
I pushed up on wobbling limbs, and Auguste moved to me, his fingers immediately working open the buttons on the back of my dress.
"Do you want him here, or upstairs?" Auguste asked me. "I know it's your—"
"Here," I said immediately, flashing Auguste a grin.
He answered with one equally full. "I know how you like to be watched," he said, kissing my forehead again.
"And you like to make plans?"
Auguste shrugged, feigning humility, but his gaze flashed as it met mine. "I want you on top of him. I want to see what it looks like as he fills and spears you. And if anything goes wrong—"
"Shh," I said, claiming a soft kiss from Auguste. "You'll be here. Nothing will go wrong."
The eyes of the room were on me as Auguste pushed my dress and slip down off my shoulders and over my hips, but it was about more than skin. I leaned back into Auguste's chest, watching Booker undo the buttons of his pants as Auguste's hands mapped my hips and waist, sliding up to cup and squeeze my breasts. We were watched, but it was a private moment too, our quiet negotiations and promises.
"Do you think the settee can take him?" Ezra mused, glancing between Booker and the long arch of furniture I'd been stretched out on.
I didn't care if the thing broke halfway through. I was busy studying the length hanging between Booker's thighs. It was big, yes, although not concerningly so. No, the size wasn't what interested me.
Magdalena was an artist, and while Booker was, essentially, a man in form—a very pleasing one—she'd let her creativity out in one particular area.
He had ridges, almost like curves and ropes of muscles, and a fat flared head that curved to a gentle tip that would be easier to take in at the start. And there at the base of him were carved white curls streaked with gray veins of marble. My mouth watered at the thought of how those curls would feel on my clit, and Auguste had to snap a bite on the muscle of my throat to catch my attention again.
"Mm?"
"I said, 'make them jealous,'" Auguste whispered in my ear. "Make me jealous."
"Will you fuck me after?" I asked, my heart already pounding in my chest.
"Mon coeur, I might fuck you during," he said, trailing a hand down to my bare ass and patting there.
I whimpered at the thought, then licked my lips as Auguste and Ezra both moved back to the wall to watch with the rest of the room.
Booker took one step toward the settee I'd been on, and I called out to him, "Wait. Booker, wait."
He froze immediately. Of course he did. Booker would take orders from others if he wanted to, but he'd declared to his own maker that I was his mistress. I don't know how I'd earned the privilege, but I wasn't going to take it for granted.
I met Booker in the middle, rising to my toes, smiling as his big hands helped themselves to my ass. I cupped his face, drawing it down to mine, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, forgetting everyone in the room but my golem, even Auguste and Ezra. We might be watched, studied, even performing for the others in the room, but this moment was ours alone and I didn't want to rush.
Booker's kiss was gentle, his lips following the slow motion of mine, careful not to crush or bruise. He was powerful, maybe even indestructible or close to it, but Booker treated the kiss as though it was fragile. He treated me that way. I liked rough fucking, liked to be claimed, but this kiss alone made me ache. I pulled back slowly, stroking a palm over his cheek, and then met Auguste's eyes over Booker's shoulder, my vampire's gaze tender.
I nodded, and Auguste cleared his throat, calling out softly, "Down on your back, please, Booker."
Booker patted my ass lightly, half-smile curling, and then moved me gently to the side so he could obey. The settee creaked, but only a little as Booker lowered himself onto the cushions, his thighs spread, cock displayed proudly, and a dark veined sac revealed just below.
"You've been waiting for this, haven't you, Esther?" Auguste asked.
I nodded, eyeing Booker hungrily, his hand resting over his densely carved stomach, waiting for me to climb on top of him.
"Go on then," Auguste murmured.
Even Mary gave up her efforts with Hunter for the moment in order to watch me, her disgusted expression doing nothing to weaken my interest in the incredible figure of Booker laid out like a buffet for my pleasure. I caught a breath and then lifted a leg to straddle Booker's hips, the stretch already impressive as I lowered myself down until my clit kissed the cool stone of the base of his cock. I shivered at the contrast in temperature, and Booker let out a gritty grunt as I cupped my hand around his length, holding it in place for me to rub myself against him.
"Oh god," I whispered, eyes falling shut at the first stroke of Booker's texture against my sensitive pussy. Come to think of it, Magdalena was much better at cock than God. Why weren't all men shaped so? I whined, bouncing just enough to tease myself with friction, eyes opening again to see Booker's gaze fixed to my hand. I stroked him, and he released another, longer rattle, deep enough for the sound to echo into me.
Out of the corner of my eye, Hunter had started to stroke himself, giving up on his company. I couldn't touch him—and to be fair, I was quite satisfied with my men as it was and not in need of another at the moment—but I could bring him pleasure by letting him watch me, and that was enough.
I braced my palms on Booker's chest, smiling at the little point of his nipples pushing into my hands, and then rose up, staring down to watch his tip just tickle against my clit. Booker groaned and rolled his hips up, gentle but adding to the pressure pe
rfectly. For once, I was tempted to move slowly, to savor every second rather than rushing forward.
Auguste had other ideas. "Esther," he growled, and I grinned back at him, shifting forward so Booker's cock was at my entrance.
I looked down into Booker's eyes as I lowered myself, my mouth parting in shock.
Cool, firm, so fucking smooth! I'd never had anything like it. Stone pushed and stroked and licked inside my cunt, until I had sunk to the hilt, those carved curls stroking the lips of my sex. Booker and I released equally tortured groans, his hands moving to gently cup one hip and squeeze my ass.
"Esther," Booker said, soft as a scratch. My eyes had been falling shut with pleasure, but I opened them now, staring down at the wide gaze of my golem. "You're perfect."
The room was full of quiet, explicit sounds, the frenzy of minutes ago as Ezra had teased me now lulled in the sweetness of my moment with Booker. I lowered slowly forward, sighing as my breasts brushed against his cool chest, and kissed Booker's chin where I could reach.
"So are you," I said softly, humming as Booker rumbled against me.
I pushed up again, so Auguste could watch—so I could watch,too, see the way Booker's brow tangled so beautifully as I lifted myself, his cock dragging through me like absolute sin. I sank down with a swift plunge, a cry of perfect agony released, Booker's grunt snapping with an arch of his back, hips trying to burrow himself deeper in me.
His cock curved inside of me like a determined finger, seeking my pleasure, and my eyes widened, voice brittle as I rose up again, the head of him kissing a place Booker had already discovered during his morning care of me. I let go, falling down, my path slick with my own arousal, and that beautiful stone length in me swayed gently, keeping contact with my tenderest place. I shuddered as I started to ride, my strength leaving every muscle but the ones that kept me moving, my head falling back on my neck as my thighs clenched and my toes curled.
Auguste moved from the wall, shedding his coat and passing it into Ezra's hands, pale elegant fingers moving to the buttons at his collar.
"Do you like it, mon coeur? Does our friend Booker make you feel good?"
"So good," I gasped out, swaying forward to find Booker's eyes fixed to the place where his cock joined me. "Booker, oh fuck, you are so—Ahh!"
Booker had found a rhythm in my motion and some control of his own body, so that he was able to be constantly dragging inside of me, veins and ridges rolling and stimulating the part of me that begged for more.
"Do you wish to always be fucking this man?" Auguste whispered in my ear.
I nodded, not thinking about Auguste or Ezra or the others. "Yes, yes, yes," I gasped out with every stroke inside of me. Booker's hands were squeezing me gently, helping my movements as my sweaty palms slid and clenched over his chest.
"Mmm, yes, you wicked thing. You'd give up everything wouldn't you, just for a good cock like Booker's?" Auguste hissed.
"Anything," I breathed, realizing what Auguste wanted.
Make me jealous.
My cheeks burned with how easy it was to let the words pour out. "Booker, don't stop. Don't stop, please. Fuck me, you feel so good."
"The best," Auguste urged.
"Yes, the best! Better than anything, oh—Oh fuck, Booker, yes!"
Booker's fingers clenched into my soft hips, taking over control, the pressure of us every time we collided just on the sweet side of too sharp.
"Yes, I want more, Booker. You, I want you!"
Auguste snarled behind me, something ripping, but it didn't interrupt Booker in the slightest, his use of me urgent and demanding. His lips were parted, eyes vivid and clear, watching my breasts bounce, staring at our bodies where they smacked together, flashing up to my eyes with shock and relief.
"Grind her onto you, Booker, make her scream," Auguste ordered.
Booker seemed to swell in me, his cock taking over the motion of our fucking as he pushed me down against him, rubbing me in place over the curls at the base of him. I didn't scream, but I fell forward with a shout, my nails scratching over ungiving flesh, squeaking against marble, as I pressed my lips to Booker's throat and shook through the torrent of sensation, my body clamping and tensing as Booker and Auguste had me in a vice.
Booker's soft kiss brushed against my temple, and I softened on top of him, letting the contrast of his cool body to my heated flesh soothe the shock that came with my orgasm. A softer but equally chilly touch stroked down my back, nudging Booker's hands aside. I moaned as Auguste pressed a slick fingertip against my asshole, demanding gentle entry.
"Very beautiful, mon coeur," Auguste whispered, teasing me with the finger, reminding me to relax with a little wiggle.
I blinked and let out a brief giggle, but it hiccuped into a whimper as Auguste pushed a second finger in.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
There was something cool in his tone that made me tense around his fingers, a slight burning sensation in the stretch, and I twisted to look back at him. He did look angry, but the moment our eyes connected, Auguste blinked, and the expression softened. He bent and kissed the center of my back between Booker's hands where they held me.
"Does it hurt?" he repeated.
I sighed and forced myself to accept his touch, the burning becoming something closer to a pleasant pulsing finger. "No. I… Booker made me take three this morning," I said, wondering if it was time to stop the game of jealousy.
Apparently not, because Auguste's lips twitched and he arched a brow at me. "Oh did he? Mmm, and was he every bit as good at that as he is at fucking you?"
I swallowed hard, and Auguste's free hand soothed at my hip until I nodded. He mimicked me and held my eyes as he worked a third finger in, twisting them together and stretching me until my eyes squeezed shut and I let out a choked sound.
"Too much?"
It was, but wasn't that the point? Neither Auguste nor Booker were too big on their own, but together…
I shook my head and started to rock into Auguste's touch, Booker grunting and kissing the top of my head as I moved.
"No, it won't be too much for a girl like you," Auguste said gently, smile fond again. "And I'll remind you why you need more than just one cock fucking you, ma petite, mm?"
"Yes, please," I said quickly.
"Stay soft like this. Let everyone see what a good little obedient girl you are. How well you take us."
Auguste and Booker might as well have been made of coals then for how hot I flushed at his words. I did want this, for all the negotiation of the game. Not the part of making Auguste jealous, although that seemed to fuel him in some way, but the part of taking a joy I'd always been told was wrong and displaying it for an audience this way.
I was wanton, wicked, too passionate, and too loose. Depraved even. All of that, and I was valued for it, displayed as precious and coveted. I gasped as Auguste's fingers pulled free, a wet stroking sound mingling with the rising gasps and moans of the room around us.
"You are perfect," Auguste whispered, petting my back again and nodding at Booker. "He's absolutely right. Now exhale and relax, mon coeur, that's a good girl."
I stiffened and whimpered with the first inch of Auguste pressing slowly into my ass, but he simply waited there, Booker rocking slowly beneath me, distracting me from the pinch of pain with a gentle simmer of pleasure. It took a long time, the pair of them soothing me with caresses and kisses, coaxing my body into softening and accepting, just for me to tighten again as Auguste made himself a little more room in me.
"Fuck, he does feel good," Auguste gasped after sinking in a little more.
I laughed, and it was the laughter that did the trick, all three of us moaning as Auguste seated himself fully.
"Oh, oh, Auguste, Booker, I—I feel as though I can't breathe," I gasped.
Booker's hands slid between us, helping themselves to my breasts and lifting me off his chest a little, shifting the stroke of them nestled together inside of me.
"You're so
tight, I'm afraid to move. Does it hurt, ma petite?" Auguste murmured, sucking softly on my shoulder.
I shook my head and then started to move, the pair of them echoing me slowly, one pushing in as the other eased out, rubbing themselves together as they stole my breath.
"That's it, yesss," Auguste hissed, nipping my throat.
I cursed through gasping breaths, the feeling so intense, it left me almost numb.
"Good girl, Esther, good girl."
The praise rushed through me, and my body clenched on them, my eyes widening and staring at the wall.
Ezra was there, flickering in and out of focus, his pants loosened enough for his fist to fit inside.
I wanted to be consumed, to forget myself entirely, I realized.
"Ezra," I gasped, reaching one hand out for my lovely rogue as Auguste and Booker found their pace inside of me, one that made colors flash in my vision. "Ezra, please, I need you!"
Auguste purred at my demand, dressing my skin in nibbles and kisses, Booker's fingers pinching and squeezing my breasts, their movements so gentle but insistent inside of me.
Ezra didn't make me ask twice, his grin blooming as he hurried to join us, not doing more than opening the flap of his pants before I was stretching to fit him between my lips, my eyes lifting to watch his face twist before he lost his focus. He thrust himself onto my tongue, fingers tangling in my hair to use my mouth carefully but on his own terms.
When he disappeared, I realized that Hunter and Mary had left their seats, a new couple taking their place. They were watching us, the woman facing out on the big horned demon's lap as she rode him.
Ezra thrust a little too deep, making me gag and clench on the others, and all together, we moaned and cried out, bodies suddenly frantic.
