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Dirty blond hair by raven-black one with two sets of intense eyes eating me up.
My pussy is bare for the two of them to see. My clit is swollen, my nipples straining against the fabric of my dress.
“No bra,” Carter muses, rubbing the scruff on his chin.
“It’s like she came here asking to be fucked,” Killian adds.
With each second ticking by, the emotional pain dissolves. My depravity wins over.
I cried plenty for my bitch-ass parents. Now it’s time to cry for my sadistic lovers.
Carter slips Cyclone out of his pocket, falling to his knees. “What Amara wants, Amara gets.”
A second later, my dress parts in two.
Just like that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Killian
“Please,” she begs.
Over the last few days, my conscience has been nagging at me. After all, taking my stepson up the ass and diving into this three-way relationship isn’t very fatherly.
Now, hearing Amara’s story, my self-doubts have been obliterated. I feel like I should get a father of the fucking year mug.
I knew who her parents were. Everyone who lives in New York has heard of the Carmichaels. What I didn’t know was they hated their daughter.
Miserable assholes. It took me six months of just looking at her, and I’m falling for this girl. The woman who makes the unconventional love I have for my stepson feel right.
She doesn’t need those fuckers. She has us. She’ll always have us.
“Begging.” My hands are on my belt and I unbuckle it, enjoying the way both Amara and Carter’s eyes latch on my movements. “I like that.”
“Me too.” Carter smirks.
“Get her on her knees.” I unzip my pants.
Carter manhandles her without an ounce of grace. Brutal. Fucking hot. Just how she likes it. Her eyes glimmer at his touch, her cheeks flushing.
“Beautiful girl.” My cock jerks in my hand when I take myself out, stroking slowly. “I seem to remember your mouth stretches as well as your ass.”
Her ripped dress rests in tatters beneath her.
Perverse thoughts course through me, of dressing her in our staff outfit later. We’re going to roleplay sometime in the near future. We’ll still be the hotel owners.
But Amara will be the little maid who begs us to keep her job.
One day.
“Why, are you planning to fuck me together there? I don’t think it works that way,” she sasses.
“Brat.” I tug on her hair, slapping her naughty lips with my cock. Precum smears on her mouth, and she greedily licks it when I pull back.
“Pet, we’re not that sadistic. You are getting both of them, though.”
“In your mouth.”
