Page 114 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter

His expression is rabid, and he touches the writing. Parts my cheeks and sucks in a breath at the plug. I don’t know what it looks like, only what it feels like.

“Oh, princess,” he breathes. “Carter plug you up and leave you high and dry?”

I shake my head. “Not him. Please, Penn.”

He rolls me over. I stare up at him, my hips still moving.

“Reduced to dry humping the air.” He goes to the window for a moment, then returns.

I got dark Penn tonight.

He drops his jeans, and his erection tents his boxers. He loses those and his shirt, his shoes and socks already off. And he fists his length, slowly stroking himself harder while his gaze devours me in the low light.

“Touch me,” I beg. Both hands are on my breasts, still, impossibly following L.’s instructions. Maybe he is right, and I like the game. I know in the back of my head that this is one that can end at any moment anyway.

He grabs my legs and drags me around, until my ass is on the edge of the bed. He keeps hold of my legs and goes to his knees, putting them on his shoulders. He kisses the inside of my thigh, trailing higher.

“You’re killing me, Penn.”

“Wonder if we’re going to have company,” he says, more to himself than me. “We’ll give him a minute, princess. See if your ex wants to play with us.”

Carter.

He means Carter.

His lips track a slow path closer to my pussy, but he draws it out. It takes him forever to get to the crease of my inner thigh. He sucks one of my outer lips into his mouth. One digit slides inside me.

I gasp and buck, silently urging him for more. He presses down. The butt plug shifts.

“Oh, no,” I cry. “No, no.”

He pulls at the plug. Not enough to withdraw it, but he takes out the widest part, then pushes it back in. He does that a few times with his finger inside me.

I fist my sheets. Sweat dots my brow, and I look down my body at him.

“Why?” I pant. “Just fuck?—”

My front door opens and closes.

“Oh God,” I groan. “You assholes.”

Carter arrives in the doorway. His expression is fucking murderous.

Penn pulls out and releases the butt plug. It slides back into place while he puts my legs back on the bed. I curl away from them and try to calm myself. I need to be rational and reasonable if they’re going to fight?—

“What the fuck are you doing?” Carter asks Penn. “Did you mean to point a fucking laser at my window? I thought she was in trouble.”

“I wanted to get your attention,” he says.

“You’re naked.”

“You probably will be, too. Look at her.”

Footsteps approach. Cool hands touch my ass, then, like Penn did, Carter gets a peek at the plug.

“Wow.” He traces his name. “This will scar nicely.”

I shudder. My hands have crept up to my chest again, cupping my breasts, using pain to try and stave off the ache.