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“Make love to me,” I whisper.
He stills. “What?”
“They aren’t here now. Use it as a distraction.”
“No, it’s what he wants. Us fucking all the time.”
“Let me soothe you, then.” I reach for his waist and trail my fingers down. He’s not hard, but I cup him and squeeze him. “I want you.”
As soon as I say it, I realize it’s true. I might be trying to distract him, but it will distract me, too.
“Kukla,” he breathes. “I don’t think I can. Not in the dark.”
“Yes, you can.” Then I think of something. Kirill and his weird kink, which I find hot, too, these days.
“Those men are in my hair,” I say. “I hate it. Let me make you come, and you can cover me in you, instead. Mark me as yours again.”
“We all need to mark you,” he growls, sounding scarily feral and unhinged. “When we get you back, we’ll clean you and then mark you as ours. Our doll, not theirs.”
It should be degrading for him to talk about me that way, but I find it strangely erotic. “Will you clean me up properly?” I ask.
“Yes, Kukla. I’ll wash you and dry you. I’ll cover you in that rose-scented lotion you like, and then brush your hair.”
“Then what?” My words are breathy.
“Then we’ll lay you down on a bed and we’ll make you ours again.”
He’s hard now and straining under my hand. I rub him up and down, marveling at the size of him. I pause at the tip to swipe my thumb over his slit, finding him wet with precum, and he sucks in a sharp breath and shudders.
“How?” I ask, wanting to hear him.
It’s as though my voice drives away whatever monsters might be lurking in the dark. He’s stopped shaking now, and I know my attempt to calm him is working.
“Tino will come in your pussy, and Dom in your ass.” He chuckles softly. “He loves your ass. Then I’ll come all over your tits and your pussy. We’ll be inside you and outside you and you’ll be ours again.”
“And you’ll be mine,” I say.
He gives a soft murmur of agreement, and I continue to work him, feeling him growing harder.
“Come on me now,” I beg. “I want your cum all over my face.”
“I can’t see your face,” he says.
“Here,” I take his hand and guide it to my cheek. “Wash those bastards away.”
He pulls away from me slightly. “Fuck, Mackenzie, this feels wrong.”
“No, it doesn’t. It feels entirely right.”
I lower my head as much as I can before the collar stops me. On my knees like this, my head bent, I feel like I’m praying.
“Stand,” I say. “Then come on me.”
“Fuck,” he groans. “Jesus, Duchess, you’ll be the death of us, I swear.”
The sound of his cock fucking my fist in the dark is depraved and fucked up, but I love it. I reach up with my other hand to cup his balls, lightly tugging and squeezing as I masturbate him. He groans, and his hands find my hair, his fingers knotting in the strands. While I continue to move my hand up and down his cock, I let the other hand trail back, behind his balls to his perineum, where I apply pressure. He gives a groan, and his hips move, thrusting his cock as though it’s my pussy he’s fucking. Curious, and feeling experimental, I go back farther still, the tip of one finger trailing over his asshole.
“Ah, fuck, Kukla. What are you doing to me?”
