Chapter 2

Collins didn't blink. “Take you how?”

“Hard.” The word came out like a confession, like I was telling him something he didn't already know. “I want you to—”

“To what?”

“Fuck me. I want you to fuck me hard. I want—”

Kingsley's hand tightened on my throat. “You want what?”

“I want you to use me.” The words tumbled out, raw and desperate, and I couldn't stop them. “I want to be taken. I want—I came here for this. I dressed for this. I've been thinking about this for weeks, months; I can't stop thinking about it; I can't—”

Collins kissed me. His mouth crushed against mine, his stubble scraping my chin, and his hand came up to grip the back of my head.

Fingers tangled in my hair, pulling just hard enough to make my eyes water. His tongue pushed past my lips, and I opened for him like a door swinging wide.

Behind me, Kingsley removed his hand from my throat and found my breast through the thin cotton. His palm was rough and hot against my nipple as he squeezed.

I moaned into Collins' mouth. The sound vibrated against his lips, and he bit my lower lip hard enough to make me gasp.

When he pulled back, his eyes were darker. The blue had gone nearly black. A thread of spit stretched between our mouths, and I watched him lick his lips.

“Take off the shirt,” he said.

I wanted to do that, but my hands were shaking so hard I couldn't find the hem.

Kingsley helped. His fingers hooked under the cotton and pulled upward, rough and impatient, and I lifted my arms and let him take it. The cold air hit my skin, and my nipples tightened even more, dark and hard against the pale curve of my breasts, and I heard someone breathe in sharply.

Maybe it was me. Maybe it was Collins. Maybe it was Joseph who hadn't moved yet. He seemed to enjoy watching.

“Fuck,” Kingsley said. His hand came up and cupped my breast, thumb dragging over the nipple, and the roughness of his palm made me arch into his touch. “Look at these tits. Stand up,” he said.

I stood.

My legs were shaking. The train swayed, and I grabbed the overhead rail to steady myself, and the movement made my breasts swing.

“Take your jeans off.”

I fumbled with the button. My fingers were clumsy, and useless, and Kingsley made a low sound of amusement and batted my hands away. His thick fingers worked the button, popped it open, and dragged the zip down.

He pulled my jeans down over my hips and thighs, and I stepped out of them. The air was chilly on my bare legs and on my cunt, which was bare too. I'd shaved that morning, so I was smooth, wet, and ready. I could feel the slickness on my inner thighs, and could smell myself, musky and desperate.

I knew Kingsley could smell it, too. His nostrils flared again, and he grabbed my hip and turned me. He bent me forward just enough that my ass pressed against the seat. His hand came down between my legs from behind, cupping my cunt, and his middle finger slid through my folds.

“Soaked,” he announced. “Fucking drenched.”

I whimpered. His finger was rough, and calloused, and it dragged over my clit without gentleness. I jerked against his hand, and he chuckled and did it again, harder, pressing down until the pleasure was sharp enough to hurt.

Collins hadn't moved, but his hands were no longer resting on his knees. He pressed one against his thigh, knuckles white, and the other was undoing his belt.

My mouth went dry.

“You want to see it,” he said.

I nodded. My tongue darted out to wet my lips, and I couldn't look away from his hands.

“Say it.”

“I want to see it.” My voice was hoarse. “I want to see your cock.”

He unzipped as Kingsley's finger worked between my legs. He made slow circles that kept me on the edge of something, and kept my hips rocking against his hand, but I couldn't look away from Collins.

He pulled himself out.

Thick. That was the first thing I thought. Thick and heavy and already slick at the tip. The head was broad, and flushed dark, and the shaft was veined and curved slightly upward. His hand wrapped around it.

“Come here,” he said.

Kingsley let go of me. I stumbled forward, bare feet on the sticky train floor, and Collins caught me by the hips and pulled me toward him. I was standing between his spread knees now, looking down at him, down at his cock. His hands were on my ass and his mouth was level with my breasts.

“You want to be used,” he said against my skin. “We're going to use you. All three of us. Every hole. Every way. Until you can't walk and until the only thing you remember is our cocks inside you.”

I moaned.

“And you're going to thank us for it.”

“Yes,” I breathed. “Yes. Please.”

He pulled me down onto his lap. I straddled him on the narrow train seat, my knees braced on either side of his hips, and his cock pressed against my belly.

Kingsley moved in behind me. His chest was against my back, solid and hot, and his hands came around to cup my breasts from behind. His thumbs found my nipples and pinched them, hard enough to make me cry out, and Collins used the sound to pull my mouth down to his again.

The kiss was dirtier this time. Tongues and teeth and the taste of my blood where he'd bitten me before. Behind me, Kingsley was grinding against my ass, and I could feel his cock through his jeans. He was thick, maybe thicker than Collins.

I was surrounded. Bare and wet and trembling, sandwiched between two huge men on a public train, with a third watching from the shadows. And my cunt was so empty I thought I might die from it.

Collins's hand slid between us, and his fingers found my cunt. He pushed through the wet folds, and the two of them slid inside me without resistance.

I screamed. His fingers were thick, thicker than anything I'd ever put inside myself, and they stretched me open. They curled upward until they found a spot that made my vision go white.

“Tight,” he said. His voice was strained. “You're going to be so tight on my cock.”

“Please.” I was babbling now, grinding down on his fingers, trying to get him deeper. “Please, please, please—”

Kingsley bit my shoulder, hard. His teeth sank into the muscle where my neck met my shoulder, and I jerked, and the pain was bright and sharp and perfect. His hand left my breast and fisted in my hair. He pulled my head back, exposing my throat to the buzzing light.

“You hear that?” he growled in my ear. “You hear how wet you are? Fucking dripping all over his hand.”

I could hear it. The wet sounds of Collins's fingers pumping into me, the squelch of my cunt trying to pull him deeper.

Collins pulled his fingers out. They glistened in the yellow light, slick with my arousal, and he held them up to my mouth.

“Taste.”

I opened my mouth. He pushed them in over my tongue, and I tasted myself. It has a salty and musky taste. I sucked his fingers clean, my tongue working between them, my eyes locked on his.

“Good girl,” he said.

My cunt clenched, and I whimpered around his fingers, and he smiled.

“Now,” he said, pulling his hand away, reaching down to grip his cock. “Now I'm going to give you what you came for.”

The head of his cock pressed against my entrance. It was slick with his own pre-cum and my arousal. He didn't push in. Just held there, right at the edge, as my pussy practically wept to have him inside me.

“Beg,” he said.