Filthy F*ck Dreams

My breath hitches in my throat, chest heaving as the last tremors of that devastating orgasm ripple through my muscles. I'm a mess, sprawled and boneless, feeling the sticky heat of their release leaking out of me, mingling with the sweat on my thighs.

Before I can even process the intensity of what just happened, a hand grips my upper arm firm, demanding, and yanks me upward.

I stumble, legs weak and unsteady, my heels clicking unevenly on the hardwood as Derek hauls me to my feet. My dress is still a useless tangle of fabric around my waist, leaving my bare ass and pussy exposed to the cool air of the room. He doesn't give me a moment to adjust. He steers me forward, marching me across the penthouse until the front of my body collides with the floor-to-ceiling window.

The glass is shocking against my overheated skin, a freezing barrier that instantly hardens my nipples. I gasp, my palms flattening against the pane to steady myself. Below us, the city sprawls out in a glittering grid of lights, thousands of people going about their mundane lives while I'm pressed naked against the glass, forty stories up.

"Look at that," Derek murmurs against my ear, his body crowding mine from behind. The scent of bergamot and leather surrounds me, intoxicating and sharp. His hands roam over my hips, sliding up to cup my breasts, thumbs brushing the sensitive peaks. "All those lights. Everyone watching. They can see you, Millie. They can see what a greedy little slut you are."

I shiver, whether from the cold glass or his words, I can't tell. Jace moves in on my left, his presence a heat source that contrasts with Derek's cool control. He runs a finger down my spine, tracing the sweat-slicked path, and then grabs a handful of my ass, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp.

"We're not done with you yet," Jace whispers, his voice low and rough. "Not even close. You think that was it? That was just the warm-up."

Derek presses his hips against my ass, and even through his suit trousers, I can feel the hard ridge of his cock. He grinds slowly, teasing me with the promise of another round. "I have so much more planned for this tight little body. We're going to push you until you break."

His hands slide down to my thighs, prying them apart slightly, forcing me to display myself against the window. I feel vulnerable, exposed, trapped between the glass and two men who are intent on wrecking me. My heart hammers against my ribs, a mix of fear and anticipation flooding my veins.

"Close your eyes," Derek commands.

I obey instantly, the world going dark. The visual of the city vanishes, leaving me with only the sensation of the cold glass on my breasts and stomach, and the heat of their hands on my skin. I hear Jace move away, his footsteps fading toward the bedroom, leaving me alone with Derek for a moment.

Derek's grip tightens on my waist. "Stay right there. Don't move."

The anticipation coils in my stomach, tight and heavy. I stand trembling, waiting, my senses heightened in the darkness. I hear Jace return, the rustle of fabric soft in the quiet room. Then, something soft and smooth slides over my eyes.

A silk scarf.

Jace ties it securely at the back of my head, plunging me into a deeper, more absolute blackness. The loss of sight is disorienting. Every sound, the hum of the city below, the air conditioning, their breathing is amplified. Every touch feels electric.

"Good girl," Jace says, his breath hot on my neck. "Now you don't get to see what we're doing to you. You just have to feel it."

They guide me away from the window. I walk blindly, trusting their hands on my elbows to steer me. The floor changes from hardwood to something softer under my heels a rug. The air smells faintly of wax and polish. We stop after a few steps.

"Up on the table," Derek orders.

I hesitate for a split second, but then strong hands lift me by the waist, setting me down on a hard, cool surface. The dining table. I shift, my ass resting on the polished wood, my legs dangling off the edge. The height puts me at perfect level with their waists.

"Lean back," Jace instructs, pushing gently on my chest.

I lie back, the wood smooth against my bare skin. My dress is still bunched at my waist, leaving me completely open from the ribs down. I feel the cool air conditioning blowing over my wet, sensitive pussy, still throbbing from the abuse it just took. I hear the distinct clink of metal on wood, followed by the soft slide of something being dragged across the table.

My breath catches. What do they have?

"Look at all the things we're going to use on you," Derek says, his voice coming from somewhere near my hip. "I picked them out just for you."

I can't see them, but my imagination runs wild. I hear the snap of a leather strap. The heavy thud of something weighty. The light chime of metal.

"Let's start simple," Jace says.

Something soft and feathery drags across my inner thigh. I gasp, my muscles twitching. It's a light, teasing touch, barely there, raising gooseflesh on my skin. It trails upward, maddeningly slow, avoiding the places I want it most. It circles my navel, then moves down to my other thigh, tracing the crease where my leg meets my hip.

"Please," I breathe, the word escaping before I can stop it.

"Please what?" Derek asks. I feel his hand clamp down on my wrist, pinning it to the table above my head. He secures it there maybe with a cuff, maybe just his grip before doing the same to the other. I'm splayed out, unable to move, unable to see.

"Please... touch me," I whisper.

"We are touching you," Jace corrects, his tone mocking.

The feather disappears, replaced by something cold and hard. A metal tip. It presses against my clit, not moving, just resting there, freezing and heavy. I gasp, my hips bucking involuntarily.

"Stay still," Derek warns, his voice dropping an octave. "If you move, it stops."

I force myself to freeze, every muscle locked in place as the cold metal sits against my most sensitive nerve ending. The contrast between the cold object and my burning flesh is agonizing. Slowly, agonisingly, he drags the metal down, sliding it through my wet folds. It's smooth, unyielding. He pushes it slightly, just the tip, teasing the entrance to my cunt.

"She's soaking wet already," Derek observes. "Look at that."

I hear the click of a cap, then the wet sound of liquid being poured. A moment later, a warm, slick finger circles my asshole. I moan, my back arching off the table. The sensation is intense, the lube cool against the heat of my rim.

"We're going to fill every hole you have, Millie," Jace whispers in my ear, leaning close. "We're going to see how much you can take before you beg us to stop."

The metal toy is replaced by something vibrating a low, steady hum that presses against my clit. My toes curl, a fresh wave of arousal flooding my system. I'm blind, bound, and completely at their mercy. The game has begun, and I know, with a terrifying thrill, that they aren't going to let me come again for a very, very long time.