Executive Toy by Cleo Peitsche Read Free Book Online

Slade says.
    Hawthorne shrugs. “Don’t say I never went to bat for you,” he tells me. His gaze drifts to my hair. “But don’t worry. We won’t take away your bleach.”
    If his intent was to make me hate him all over again, he’s succeeded. But I don’t get a chance to say anything nasty because Romeo is bending over me, kissing me, making my splayed legs weak, my knees wobbly.
    He’s a good kisser when he actually does it. Soft lips, a firm tongue. Not too wet… just enough so that his tongue slides smoothly between my lips. He explores my mouth, and I moan. Heat races to my center, wetness building. I feel it dribble out of me, and then hands are there, touching my slit, which is accessible because of my pose.
    Slade unfastens my bra, and I’m so ready for this. As much as Hawthorne makes me crazy, sucking him off in the elevator while he violently fucked my face was about the best foreplay I’ve ever had.
    I hear the ripping of a condom wrapper, then muscled arms wrapped in a suit of expensive silk squeeze around me, and I’m being carried backward. It’s Slade again, I realize. He leans against the edge of the ebony executive desk. My legs are on the outside of his as I try to keep my balance. He moves me easily, and his erection, which is slightly sticky from the lube, bumps across my pussy.
    Romeo and Hawthorne are closing in on me, the hungry looks in their eyes intoxicating. Romeo’s hands palm my breasts. He tweaks both my nipples, then soothes. Harsh, then gentle. I’ve done rough, and I’ve done sweet, but never so close together.
    His expression tells me that my surprise is evident on my face.
    He twists harder, pulls at my stiffened peaks until I gasp and lean forward, into him. “Good,” he rumbles. To escape the pain, I’m trying to dive into the arms of my tormentor… And it turns him on. It’s sick. Twisted. I love it.
    He does it again. My face is burning from the pain, and when my mouth opens in a wordless cry, Hawthorne sticks his tongue in my mouth and kisses me. It’s not like Romeo’s kiss, which was protectively dominant. Hawthorne kisses like he hasn’t decided if he wants it to feel good or if he wants me to hate it.
    I decide to hate it.
    His tongue is jamming into my mouth, and it’s a wet kiss. Sloppy. I want to shove him away, but now he’s squeezing the sides of my jaw too tightly for me to duck away.
    The men have me trapped between their bodies. Slade’s erection is still rubbing against my sex, and I’m throwing myself at Romeo, who has released one of my nipples. All his energy seems to be going into punishing the one still caught in his pinch, though. Worst of all, the way I’m pitching forward is probably giving Hawthorne the impression that I like his kiss.
    I try to pull away, but the three men are having none of it. If I want to end this, I can. It’s a useless realization because I love some of what is happening but I hate other parts. What doesn’t make sense is how it’s all swirling together in my mind, the good mixing with the bad, the sexy mixing with… with Hawthorne.
    Slade grips my hips, lifts me away, aligns his cock and lowers me onto the thick head. He thrusts inside me with one rough motion, and I forget that I want to resist Hawthorne’s kiss. For a moment, I close my eyes.
    Then they snap open because Slade isn’t moving inside me. It’s like he’s waiting for something.
    Hawthorne’s eyes are glazed, his brow tense like he’s concentrating. He’s vibrating, and I shift my head a little and strain my eyes, looking down. He’s got his cock in his hand and is jerking himself.
    One thing is sure. If he’s so rough with his own dick, he’s probably not going to be gentle when he puts it in me… but I already suspected that because of what happened in the elevator.
    A quake starts between my legs, passes through my body. I want him inside me. I want them all inside me.
    “On the floor,” Romeo says. He gives my nipple one last