Page 165 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter

Not all of it. Not the nightmares that won’t let me go.

“Sydney.” His voice cracks. “Oh God, I’m so fucking sorry.”

I slide down his body again. There’s no foreplay—I notch him at my slit and push down, taking him inside me in one movement.

His arms yank on the restraints. His eyes burn into my body. I touch his chest, the red marks left by the crop, the six-pack of abs.

“I took it too far. I deserve this.”

Yes, you do.

I lift off him then slowly lower, taking him deeper inside me. I remove my hands from his body and keep them on my thighs. I’m not here for him, to make him feel better.

This is for me.

So I take my pleasure from his body. I touch myself in front of him, cupping my breasts through my shirt and bra, pinching my nipples. I get myself off using him like a fuck toy. I rub my clit hard, using him to nudge my G-spot with every downward slam. When I come, my eyes flutter shut and my core tenses around him.

I groan. I try to enjoy it.

I haven’t felt anything in just over a week.

“That was hot,” Penn says.

I jump. Oliver glowers at him but otherwise remains silent. It’s only when Carter comes down the hall that Oliver swears in Spanish again.

“Ball gag,” I say.

He’s still inside me. I don’t really feel inclined to move. But Carter’s expression lights up, and he retrieves it. He seems to take a little too much joy wrestling it into Oliver’s mouth. He pinches his nose shut until Oliver can’t take it anymore, and the hard rubber fits between his teeth. Carter straps it around his head and returns to me. He pulls me toward him and kisses me.

Hard.

I moan. My hips automatically move, and Oliver’s cock slides against my sensitive flesh.

“I want your ass,” Carter says in my ear.

My face heats. Only Oliver and L. have gone there.

I’ve been ignoring my mystery texter, too. I haven’t cared enough to check my phone for any texts, let alone the where are yous and are you okays that come from loved ones.

Penn moves to the other bed and sits toward the top, even with Oliver’s head. “By all means,” he says. “I want her pussy. I’ll wait.”

Oliver groans.

Carter has no fucking problem climbing on the bed behind us. He brushes my hair over my shoulder and kisses my neck.

A chill sweeps down my back, but I tip my head to give him more room. He leans me forward more, and the cold drip of lube slips between my ass cheeks. His finger chases it, circling my asshole. When he pushes the finger in, I groan.

Oliver’s gaze is fastened to my face.

Carter finger-fucks me for a minute, then withdraws.

When his dick touches me, I automatically tense. I fold lower, putting my forearms on Oliver’s chest. I splay my fingers out across his pecs.

When Carter pushes in, the fullness of both of them registers.

“Holy shit,” I moan. It hurts until it doesn’t, and Carter hasn’t even started to thrust in earnest yet.

“Look at me,” Penn suddenly orders. He has his cock out. He fists it slowly, the tip already red and oozing.