Page 42 of Moonflower

This whole time, Ezra has had one of his arms around my lower waist, holding me firmly in place. His fingers dig into my skin until I settle down again.

Ezra clicks his tongue, watching tears fall onto my cheeks. “You made your pretty girl cry, Wild.” He circles my clit faster, adding a touch more pressure. When I grunt against Wilder’s hand, he grins. “What should we do with her when we’re done? Tie her up and throw her in the river?”

I squeak in protest.

“Maybe we should bury her with all these old skeletons,” Wilder replies. “Who’d find her here?”

My thoughts are getting muddy and slow from the lack of oxygen. They have me shaking, trapped, and terrified—exactly like they want. Exactly like I want. And I don’t think I can hold on for much longer. The tension rising in my body is almost at an unbearable point.

I let out a muffled sob, blinking more tears from my eyes. Ezra leans down and licks them away. His fingers slip inside of me, his thumb rubbing against my clit, and it rips a choked noise from me.

“So tense,” he murmurs. “So breakable.”

I moan. Because right now, all I want is to break. For them to break me. So close. So fucking close.

Just as I think I’m about to pass out, Ezra curls his fingers into me. It’s exactly what I need to push me over the edge. I hear a weak whine, and it takes a moment to register that it came from me.

As I begin to come, Wilder releases me, and I heave in a breath. The sudden rush of oxygen pushes my orgasm to new heights, just like earlier except more. I groan, and my legs give out, but they don’t let me fall.

“Shit,” Ezra whispers, working my clit with a feather-light touch. He lets me take a couple breaths, watching me with rapt fascination. Then he grabs the hair at the base of my neck, angling my face upward, and slams his lips to mine.

Wilder holds me up as Ezra plunders my mouth. He bites my bottom lip until I taste blood, and then he licks it away with a groan. I grab onto his shoulders, slowly regaining my footing as he starts moving his fingers inside of me again.

Once I’m standing on my own again, Wilder moves away from me. The absence of heat against my back sends a shiver down my spine. Then I yelp when he yanks my jeans and panties down my legs, leaving them around my knees. He smacks my ass once, twice, before he pulls me away from Ezra.

With his hands on my shoulders, Wilder shoves me to the ground. I fall forward, catching myself with my hands. But then Wilder grabs my hair and yanks me up so I’m on my knees.

“Get her shirt off,” he tells Ezra.

I expect Wilder to let go of my hair so Ezra can pull my shirt over my head. But instead, Ezra kneels in front of me and gently traces a finger down my stomach. He slips my flannel off my shoulders, letting it fall into the grass. Then he takes two fistfuls of my tank top and yanks.

The sound of fabric ripping fills the air, and I gasp. Ezra tears my tank top apart until it’s nothing more than a shredded heap on the ground. Then he unclasps my bra and discards it, throwing it onto a flat tombstone.

“Ezra!”

“What? It’s the most excitement that—” He pauses, leaning over to get a better look at the stone. “—Francis Hendricks has seen in a long time.”

I’m blushing furiously, but either Ezra can’t see or he doesn’t care.

“Get down,” Wilder says, shoving me forward.

I catch myself with my hands, but then Wilder grabs my arms and yanks them behind me. I fall to the ground, my cheek hitting the wet grass. My ass is exposed and sticking up in the air, and Wilder is kneeling behind me, his legs on either side of mine. The tip of his cock slides against my clit.

“God,” I whisper.

Wilder laughs, snapping his hips forward. “He’s not here, little Moonflower. You know that.”

Chapter ten

Wilder

Cora screams as I slam into her. It’s a bewitching sound, one I’m planning on wrenching out of her daily for the rest of our lives. When I pull out, she whimpers, my name a breathless plea on her lips.

“What do you want?” I smack her ass, watching it jiggle in the most perfect way.

She’s not scared anymore, nor is she struggling. Our precious Moonflower is quivering and soaked and desperate for more.

“You,” she moans. “Please fuck me. Please, Wilder.”