Surprise Guest

Liliana Grace Harlan POV

I didn’t.

I let my knees fall open instead, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my panties, soft cotton, already warm and clinging, meeting slick heat instantly. I was already wet.

I didn’t slide my finger inside my hole. I never did because I was a virgin completely untouched there and I wanted to stay that way.

For them and especially for Dante, the doctor, he is obsessed with cleanliness, with precision. The thought of him being the first to slide inside me, to feel how tight and pure I’d kept myself for him, for all of them made my clit throb harder.

So that part of me was off-limits, even to my own fingers.

I pressed over the fabric instead, rubbing my swollen clit in slow, teasing circles.

The first pass pulled a soft, broken moan from my throat.

I parted my legs wider, knees falling open as my shirt rode up, bunching beneath my breasts and leaving my stomach bare, my nipples tight and aching against the soft fabric.

My clit was swollen, throbbing, begging. I could feel my wetness soaking through my cotton panties, warm and slick, spreading with every slow stroke.

Each pass of my fingers dragged the soaked material against me, the friction sharp and perfect, drawing a helpless roll of my hips into my own touch.

My hips jerked off the mattress on instinct as sparks shot up my spine.

I bit my lip hard, then gave in, moving again, tracing lazy, teasing circles over my clit through the drenched fabric.

My nipples ached, hard and tight against the oversized shirt, begging for fingers, teeth, anything else.

I closed my eyes and let the fantasy swallow me whole.

I pictured them walking in right now, surprising me like they used to, catching me like this.

Nikolai’s low laugh.

“Look at our princess… all grown up and desperate. Guess it’s time to unwrap our present.”

A soft moan slipped out of me.

I pictured Dante’s gloved hand replacing mine, slow and clinical.

“Inappropriate,” he’d murmur against my ear, voice calm and cold but his fingers would keep moving, pressing harder, making me shake.

Nikolai’s rough chuckle when he noticed my tight little virgin cunt.

“Keeping that pretty hole untouched for us, princess? Good girl.”

Elias’s big hands spread my thighs wider, preparing to lick me.

“Been waiting for this.”

Jaxon watching, eyes dark and hungry, jaw tight.

“Only we get inside you. Ever. Now get on your back and show us what you’ve been doing without us.”

My hips rolled into my hand as I rubbed faster, the damp fabric dragging over my clit, slick with how much I wanted them.

I held my breath to hold back the moan, but Dante’s calm voice echoed in my head: “Breathe, Liliana. Let us watch.”

I did. A breathless moan spilled out.

The cotton was soaked now, clinging to every fold, the friction maddening and perfect.

I rubbed faster, breath hitching, so close to release I could feel it.

My nipples ached hard, tight peaks scraping against the shirt with every arch of my back, sending sharp little jolts straight to my core.

I remembered the sounds from years ago, back when I was supposed to be asleep, face pressed to the wall that separated my room from theirs.

Low grunts.

The wet slap of skin on skin.

The filthy things they growled to whatever woman they’d brought home that night.

I’d touched myself to those sounds more times than I could count, muffling my cries in my pillow while my fingers slipped through my own slickness.

Now I don't have to be quiet.

A broken moan tore out of me as I rubbed harder, faster, the cotton rasping deliciously against my sensitive clit.

My free hand slid up to my breast, pinching one nipple hard through the shirt, twisting just enough to make me whimper, imagining it was one of them.

I pictured it again, the door creaking open right now.

Nikolai first, leaning against the frame in that worn leather cut, cigarette still smoldering between his fingers, that cocky tilt to his mouth when he saw me spread out like this.

“Miss me, princess?” he’d rasp, voice all smoke and gravel, eyes raking over every part of me like he already owned it.

Elias behind him, still in his turnout gear half-unzipped, soot smudged across his cheekbones, those massive hands flexing like he was already imagining spreading my thighs wider.

“You’ve grown up so fucking pretty,” he’d growl, low and dangerous.

Jaxon would push past them both, shoulders tight with that barely leashed violence he carried everywhere.

His dark eyes would lock on mine, unblinking like a predator finally cornering its prey.

And Dante… God, Dante, standing just behind them, immaculate white coat still on, slowly peeling off those black nitrile gloves one finger at a time.

His gaze clinical at first, then slid into something molten.

“Hold still for me, Liliana,” he’d murmur, voice velvet and steel but he wouldn’t move and wouldn’t look away.

He’d watch every circle of my fingers like he was cataloging exactly how I liked it.

I was panting now, hips rolling shamelessly into my hand.

My panties were drenched, the thin cotton dark and plastered to my folds, clinging so tightly I could feel every throb of my clit through the soaked fabric. The friction sent electric jolts racing through me.

I hooked two fingers under the crotch and yanked it aside with a wet, filthy sound.

Finally, skin on skin.

My clit was so slick and so swollen, I nearly came from the first direct touch.

I rubbed furious, desperate circles, hips bucking off the mattress like I was already being fucked.

“Fuck!” The word was ripped out of me loudly. No one to hear. No one to stop me.

I pictured them, always them.

Jaxon pinning my wrists above my head with one huge hand, hips slamming into mine, that fighter’s body caging me completely, sweat dripping from his jaw onto my tits as he growled “mine” with every thrust.

Dante’s long, surgeon-steady fingers replacing mine, rubbing my clit in perfect, clinical circles until I sobbed, watching my face like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever studied.

Elias dropped to his knees, rough firefighter hands forcing my thighs open so wide my muscles burned, holding me there while his tongue speared inside me, eating me out like he was starving and I was the only meal left on earth.

Nikolai behind me, teeth scraping my throat, filthy Russian praise in my ear, telling me what a perfect little slut I was for coming on their cocks, for begging for more, for being theirs.

God, I’d watched so much p**n trying to imagine shit like this.

I was moaning their names louder now, voice cracking with desperation, hips bucking wildly off the bed as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside me.

“Jaxon… Dante… Elias… Nikolai… please, fuck, please…”

I didn’t know what I was begging for, but I wanted it.

My clit throbbed relentlessly under my frantic fingers, swollen and hypersensitive.

I was right there, teetering on the sharp edge, every muscle locked tight, breath sawing harshly in and out of my lungs.

I didn’t hold back the sounds. No one was home so I kept calling their names, begging for them, my voice breaking on every plea.

Then…the front door downstairs opened with a soft, unmistakable click.

Footsteps followed, heavy and multiple, storming inside.

Whoever was coming in had keys and my first thought was the spare Dad handed out for emergencies.

My second thought sent a spike of fear straight through my chest.

My eyes flew open, my heart slamming hard against my ribs.

No.

Dad wasn’t supposed to be home and no one was supposed to be home either.

For a split second, panic whispered "killer" but it didn’t fit because these weren’t cautious steps. They were confident and familiar.

Heavy boots thudding against hardwood with four different rhythms.

Four I’d memorized years ago, in stolen glances and shameful midnight fantasies and still… I shamelessly couldn’t stop to check who just invaded the house.

Fuck, I couldn’t stop.

I was so close, teetering on the edge of my release, that stopping felt impossible.

I wanted to cum, I needed it.

My fingers moved faster, slick circles turning frantic as I chased the orgasm already tearing through me.

Down the hall, the floorboards creaked beneath those four distinct rhythms.

They were coming closer.

Low voices drifted in from the hallway, familiar, urgent, and manly.

My heart leapt into my throat.

No fucking way.

Was that Nikolai’s voice?

“Princess?”

The word sliced through the haze low, velvet-rough, edged with something far darker than surprise.

The sound of it alone sent a fresh pulse of heat straight to my core.

I pictured them walking in right now, seeing me like this, desperate, exposed, keeping myself pure for them while I came apart at the thought of them finally taking me.

The image shattered what little control I had left and I came with a broken, filthy cry that echoed down the hallway, my back bowing violently off the mattress, thighs trembling as my pussy clenched hard around nothing.

“Oh fuckkkk….Jaxon… Dante… Elias… Nikolai…” My voice cracked on their names, hot pulses spilling over my fingers, soaking my hand, sliding down my inner thighs, and pooling into the sheets beneath me.

I rode it out, gasping, fingers still circling lazily through the drenched cotton as the aftershocks rippled through me.

Even then, the ache didn’t fade.

I was still trembling, hips jerking helplessly, one knee falling obscenely to the side, leaving me completely open when my bedroom door creaked and slowly pushed wider.

Four silhouettes filled the doorway immediately, backlit by the hallway light, tall and broad and impossibly real as they stepped in one by one.

Nikolai first, leaning one shoulder against the frame, black leather jacket stretched tight across his chest, tattoos crawling up his throat, those dark eyes dragging over me slowly, missing nothing.

Jaxon right behind him, tailored coat hanging open, green eyes sharp behind the fall of his blond hair.

Dante next, still in dark-blue scrubs clinging to his frame, white coat loose, stethoscope dangling around his neck like he’d run straight from the hospital and forgotten it was there, his gaze clinical and ravenous all at once.

Elias last, fresh off shift, fire-department tee damp with sweat, arms thick and corded, hazel eyes wide and dark.

Their four sets of eyes locked on me, legs spread, shirt rucked up to my ribs, fingers buried between my thighs, mouth open, still trembling from the orgasm they’d just heard me scream their names through.

The room smelled like sex. Like me and there was no hiding it.

My hand froze mid-circle, fingers still pressed against my swollen clit through the soaked cotton. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. In fact I think I was dreaming right now because this can't be real.

But it didn't seem like a dream anymore when Nikolai’s slow, filthy grin spread first.

“Well, fuck,” he rasped, voice rough with hunger. “Merry late Christmas to us.”

Jaxon’s gaze was ice and fire, his voice lethally quiet. “Looks like we interrupted something important.”

Dante stepped forward, eyes narrowing as they swept over me without missing anything, over the soaked sheets, over my trembling thighs and over my slick, aching cunt before he spoke.

“Heart rate elevated. Breathing erratic. Classic post-orgasmic state,” he said, his clinical tone cracking at the edges. “And she just stopped touching herself.”

Elias exhaled hard, rubbing a hand over his jaw, voice low and raw.

“Christ, little rabbit… You have no idea what you’re doing to us.”

Oh fuck. They were really here and I am completely, utterly caught.