I moaned, my hand shaking as I held the vibrator in place again. I struggled to stay upright in front of the window, my legs rapidly beginning to ache. My clit wanted to retreat from the vicious vibrations, but my body was still responding. The tension built brutally.

How does it feel, fucktoy? Is it a little bit too much for you?

I nodded mindlessly, rocking my hips against the vibrations. There was something deliciously degrading about being referred to as nothing more than a toy.

Every inch of me was tense, rising so quickly toward an orgasm that I couldn’t manage to relax a single muscle. I held my breath in an effort not to make a sound, but even that fragile self-control was going to break.

Don’t stop. Make yourself come for me. Keep the vibrator there until I give you permission to stop.

“Fuck…” My voice cracked. My toes curled. I doubled over as I came, clapping my free hand over my mouth to muffle the groan that came with it.

Jesus Christ, it was too much. It hurt — it felt so good, but it hurt.

Sit up. Don’t you dare hide your face from me.

I barely managed it. I was shaking my head, whispering “please” over and over again as if he could hear me. As if Lucas gave a fuck about mercy.

She looks like she’s gonna cry, boys. Should I let her stop?

Another confetti message came through from Vincent. I would have been mad if I hadn’t felt like my clit was about to break.

Let her cry. Goddamn it, Manson.

Make her go for another minute. Sixty seconds. Jason’s idea at least put an end in sight. I leaned my hand against the window, the reflection of my own face too much to bear. My hair was disheveled, my cheeks were pink, my mouth hung open because I was panting so hard. God, my clit was so sensitive even a feather would have made me flinch. But this? This was torture. I wasn’t building toward another orgasm; I was still lingering at the end of the last one. Trapped, suspended in pleasure limbo.

That’s sixty seconds. Stop.

I almost sobbed with relief. I switched off the vibrator and tossed it down, collapsing onto the bed as I tried to catch my breath. My legs were twitching, my clit felt as if I’d hooked electrodes up to it. They hadn’t even touched me and they’d reduced me to this. My phone kept buzzing as I stared at the screen, bleary-eyed.

I think I killed her, boys.

Rest in peace, angel.

Vincent switched it up this time and sent some fireworks.

I was too tired to drag myself out of bed and into the shower. I was too tired to even send them a snarky response. I crawled under the blankets, and my exhausted body melted into sleep within minutes.

22

22

Lucas