Bea's Seductive Night With Three Strangers - Part 2

The low growl of the engine was the only sound in the luxurious car. Bea was sandwiched in the backseat, a man on either side. Lars’s palm rested high on her stocking-clad thigh, his thumb stroking idle, hypnotic circles. Thomas’s fingers were intertwined with hers, a deceptively gentle claim. Stefan drove, his eyes frequently finding hers in the rearview mirror, a promise of raw hunger glittering in their depths.

Nobody spoke. The air was thick with the scent of her perfume and their shared, primal anticipation. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat matching the rhythm of the city lights streaking past the window. This was madness. This was exquisite.

The car slid to a smooth stop under the porte-cochère of a grand hotel. Stefan was at her door in an instant, offering his hand. His calloused palm was surprisingly gentle as he helped her out, his other hand settling possessively on the small of her back, right where the silk of her dress ended and the bare skin began. A shiver, hot and delicious, raced up her spine.

They moved through the opulent lobby as a single, charged entity, drawing glances she hardly noticed. Her world had narrowed to the pressure of three pairs of hands guiding her, the promise in their silence. The elevator ride to the top floor was an eternity of tense, delicious silence, filled only with the soft hum of machinery and the sound of her own quickened breath.

Stefan produced a keycard and unlocked a double door, pushing it open to reveal a sprawling penthouse suite. The lights were low, casting long shadows across tasteful furniture and panoramic windows showcasing the city’s glittering skyline.

And there, in the center of the room, sat David.

He was shirtless, his powerful torso displayed, his arms bound behind him to a sturdy wooden chair. A single lamp illuminated him, highlighting the strong jawline and those piercing eyes that now watched her with intense, unwavering approval. A slow, proud smile spread across his face as he took in the sight of her, flanked by his chosen trio.

This was his gift. His carefully orchestrated game.

“Bea,” David's voice was a low, familiar rumble that resonated deep within her. “You look stunning.”

Any lingering shred of doubt vanished, burned away by the sheer heat of his gaze. This was all for her. Her pleasure was his design.

Lars and Thomas drifted into the room, their movements suddenly predatory now that the public eye was gone. Stefan closed the door behind them, the definitive click of the lock echoing in the vast space.

Bea took a step toward David, then turned to face the three men, her voice a husky whisper that belied the storm of need crashing inside her. “I’m here. As instructed.” She let her eyes travel over each of them—Lars’s brooding intensity, Thomas’s slick confidence, Stefan’s rugged power. “Are you guys ready? I will fulfill ALL of your wishes.”

A collective, sharp intake of breath. Thomas was the first to move, closing the distance between them. He didn’t kiss her. Instead, he sank to his knees before her, his hands sliding up the backs of her calves.

“The first wish,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sensual promise, “is to taste what we’ve been teasing all evening.”

His fingers hooked into the delicate straps of her stockings, and with a deftness that spoke of experience, he peeled them down her legs, his lips following the path of his hands, placing soft, burning kisses on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She braced a hand on his shoulder, her knees already feeling weak.

From behind her, Lars’s hands found her hips, his body pressing against her back. He nuzzled her neck, his breath hot against her ear. “And the second,” he whispered, his artist’s fingers finding the zipper of her dress, “is to see the canvas.” The silk whisper of her dress sliding down her body and pooling at her feet was the loudest sound in the room. She stood before them, and before David, in only her black lace panties and high heels.

Stefan moved then, a force of nature. He came to her front, his muscular frame dwarfing her. His calloused hands, so rough and strong, were incredibly gentle as they cupped her face. “The third wish,” he stated, his voice gruff with wanting, “is to feel you come. Over and over again.” He crushed his mouth to hers in a kiss that was pure, unfiltered possession. It was hard and demanding, and she met it with equal fervor, her tongue tangling with his.

Thomas, still on his knees, hooked his fingers into the sides of her last remaining garment and pulled. The lace tore with a soft sound, and then his mouth was on her, his tongue finding her core in one swift, expert motion. Bea cried out against Stefan’s mouth, her head falling back onto Lars’s shoulder as a bolt of pure lightning shot through her.

Thomas’s tongue was relentless, lapping and sucking at her most sensitive flesh, while his fingers spread her open for him. Lars held her upright, one hand splayed across her stomach, the other kneading her breast, pinching and rolling her nipple until it was a hard, aching peak. Stefan continued to claim her mouth, his kiss devouring her moans.

The pleasure was too much, too fast, building from three points of contact, overwhelming her senses. She was panting, writhing between them, a creature of pure sensation. She glanced over, saw David watching, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes dark with voyeuristic ecstasy. The sight of his enjoyment pushed her even higher.

“More,” she begged, the word torn from her throat. “please … more…”

Stefan broke the kiss with a grunt. In one fluid motion, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the massive bed, laying her down in the center of the duvet. The three men surrounded her, a wall of muscle and masculine intent.

Thomas, his lips still glistening, unbuckled his trousers, freeing his hard, thick length. He didn’t wait. He positioned himself between her legs, and with one powerful, seamless thrust, he was inside her, burying himself to the hilt. Bea’s back arched off the bed, a guttural scream of pleasure ripped from her lungs. He filled her completely, stretching her, the fit exquisitely tight.

He set a punishing rhythm immediately, each deep plunge punching a moan from her lips. Lars knelt beside her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, guiding her face toward his own erection. “Your mouth, Bea. Now.” She opened for him, taking his length into her mouth, loving the salty taste of him, the way he groaned and her hips bucked against Thomas’s thrusts.

She was the center of their universe, the focus of all their attention, all their desire. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, of ragged breaths and low groans, filled the suite. Stefan watched for a moment, stroking himself, his eyes burning with impatient need. He moved to the side of the bed, his strong hands grabbing her hips and yanking her to the edge, forcing her up onto her knees without dislodging Thomas, who grunted and never broke his rhythm.

Now she was on her hands and knees, Thomas driving into her from behind, Lars fucking her mouth, and Stefan positioned himself before her. He gripped the back of her head gently but firmly.

“The last opening, beautiful,” Stefan growled, and she knew what he wanted. What she wanted. She opened her mouth wider, and he pressed the broad head of his cock against her lips, alongside Lars’s. The feeling of being filled in both places at once was utterly debauched, utterly perfect. She moaned around them, the vibration earning twin groans of pleasure.

She was completely surrounded, utterly claimed, used for their pleasure and hers. The pressure built again, a tidal wave of sensation coiling deep in her belly. Thomas’s thrusts became erratic, his grip on her hips bruising. Lars’s rhythm faltered. Stefan’s breath hitched.

She was hurtling toward the edge, her body tightening around Thomas, her mouth working desperately on the two cocks. David’s voice cut through the haze, rough with his own arousal. “Look at her. Look at how beautiful she is taking all of you.”

The wave broke. Her orgasm detonated, a silent scream trapped in her throat, her body convulsing around Thomas, who shouted her name as his own release ripped through him. Lars followed with a guttural cry, his heat flooding her mouth. Stefan was last, his roar echoing in the room as he found his release.

For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged panting. They remained connected, a tangled, sweating heap of spent passion. Slowly, carefully, they withdrew from her. Bea collapsed forward onto the bed, her body humming, every nerve ending alight.

She turned her head, her eyes finding David’s. His expression was one of pure, unadulterated triumph. A slow smile spread across her blissful face.

Thomas, still breathing heavily, trailed a finger down her slick spine. “That,” he panted, “was just the beginning.” His eyes, dark with renewed hunger, flicked toward a nearby armchair. “I believe it’s my turn to watch for a while.” He looked down at her, his confident smile returning. “Bend over. On the chair, Bea. It is time that you show us how much you enjoy everything ... especially rough sex.”