Page 12 of Rudimentary Distortion
“Can you stop calling me that?” Billie huffs. “Get out of my way. You can’t keep me here against my will.”
Lars laughs. “Billie, cut the crap. If you wanted to leave here, you would. You would’ve called your editor as soon as you realized who we were and been on a plane back to New York.” He pushes off the doorframe and walks toward her. “You aren’t here for some stupid interview. You’re here for us.”
Billie crosses her arms and glares at Lars. “You’re so full of yourself.”
“I’d rather you be full of me,” he says, stepping toward her. Billie retreats until her back is flush against my chest, and Lars is pressed to her front. “Admit it, Billie. This is where you want to be. Between us.”
“So what? I enjoyed fucking you both. What’s that gonna do? We’ll fuck and go our separate ways. What’s that gonna accomplish? We still have a fucking tidal wave of issues. All that shit from the past is still there.”
I trail my fingers up her cardigan-covered arm until I reach the collar, sliding it from her shoulders and letting the fabric pool at our feet. “Look at you, Tinkerbell, all grown up with a filthy mouth. When did my good girl turn bad?”
Her head falls back on my chest as I trail kisses along her neck. “When you threw me out like trash.”
7
Billie
Cain’s gentle kisses are like lightning strikes against my flesh. “No one threw you out, Tinkerbell. You throw out trash, not diamonds.”
My whole life, I wondered how my mother kept going back to drugs when they had taken so much from her. But now I understand. Because, like my mother, I have an addiction. It’s not pills or heroin. No, it’s these two men. No matter how much I tried to kick my habit, it dragged me back into its murky depths.
Cain’s hands on my T-shirt are the equivalent of a junkie being in the same room with her poison of choice—temptation offering me a warm welcome. A prelude to delude me into believing that one hit won’t hurt.
Arousal kicks in as Lars unbuttons my jeans and pulls them down my legs. I gaze down as he gently removes my shoes before pulling my jeans over my feet. I stand naked from the waist down with two wolves I’d gladly let devour me whole.
Lars clears his throat, his voice hoarse. “Food was always an issue for me growing up—scraps I had to scrounge here or there. Eventually, I got older, and money rolled my way. I started eating Kobe beef, caviar, and all the other things I couldn’tpronounce in a world reserved for the rich, not the offspring of a strung-out strawberry. But of all the flavors I savored on my tongue, yours was my favorite.”
I yelp as Lars grips my legs and places them over his shoulders while Cain lifts me under my arms. There’s no thought other than his tongue on me. Nothing else I crave more. My eyes shut as I float from the sensation of his fingers invading me. At first, it’s gentle sweeps of his tongue, one finger thrusting into me with ease. My moans accelerate, and he adds two more fingers, filling me.
“Lars,” I whisper as my hips thrust toward his mouth. “Please.”
Cain nips my earlobe, the fabric of his mask teasing my skin. “I enjoy hearing you beg, Tinkerbell. Remember when I had you on your knees, tongue out, ready to gag on my cock? You look so pretty like this. Open, dirty, and real. You can wear that good girl shell for the world, but we’ll always know what you are. Tell him what you want, Tinkerbell.”
“Keep going, please,” I whimper.
Cain laughs as he pulls me off Lars and tosses me on the sofa. That’s the thing about Cain. His large stature and demanding nature in the bedroom make him unmatched by any dominant I’ve been with.
Most of them played a game, an act they put on to appear bigger, badder, and alpha, but they were little boys desperate to play grown-up games. Once they were alone with me, they were too scared to deliver on the various promises they made.
“Take it all off,” Cain orders.
Without hesitation, I grip the hem of my T-shirt, whip it over my head, and toss it on the floor.
“All of it, Tinkerbell,” Cain says, eyeing my bra. “I’ve dreamt about those big tits.”
My hands shake, and my mouth salivates with pent-up desire. My gaze wanders to their dicks as I unclasp my bra.
Lars steps forward, his palm rubbing his crotch. “You like what you see, Billie Goat?”
I lick my lips and nod.
“You want a taste, don’t you?”
I nod again, too dumbfounded to utter words. All I can think about is being between them again.
“Bet all those men you’ve fucked never compared.”
Fuck, no. They didn’t know how to fuck me.