Page 32 of Crucible
“Okay. Okay, that was wrong, but that doesn’t mean you should hurt me.” She snatches her arm away when I trail a finger down it.
I sigh. “It doesn’t have to hurt, Sunshine, but that’s up to you.”
“Just be a good girl for us, and we won’t have to,” Khalil coos. He slips a hand under her dress and glowers when Aurelia shoves it away.
“But you will…hurt me?”
Aurelia’s mask is gone, and her eyes are filling with fear. The air is sweet with it. I bet her tears taste delicious. Her blood was certainly divine.
My gaze drops to her breasts, and I smirk when I see her hard nipples pushing against the bodice. “Do you want us to?”
“What kind of question is that? Of course not!”
Khalil reaches out and places a hand around her neck. He’s not squeezing, but there’s a flare of panic in her eyes anyway—especially when he applies pressure, forcing her to lie back onto the mattress again. “Cabin rule number one, show us somefucking respect.”
“Get your mongrel hands off of me!”
“Cabin rule number two,” I say as I shed my shirt, “we own you, Sunshine. And no, we will not be keeping our hands to ourselves.”
“Stop it!” she screams when Khalil starts tearing free the laces holding her dress together. She tries to fight him off, but she’s no match. She can’t stop us from doing anything we like to her body.
“Don’t be afraid,” I plead gently.
“Don’t fight us, and we’ll be nice,” Khalil just has to say.
I don’t see Aurelia’s fight response kick in, and neither does Khalil. The moment her dress falls open and her gorgeous tits are exposed, the three of us are transfixed by the sight of her brown nipples puckered and ready for our attention.
Unfortunately, we’re a little too mesmerized.
Aurelia uses our distraction to slap the shit out of Khalil and scramble past me. I snap out of it first and grab for her, but I swear my hard cock is weighing me down. I’m too slow.
Aurelia tumbles onto the floor, but she’s back on her feet in a flash, holding her dress together as she makes a break for the window.
AURELIA
It feels like they’re pushing me, leading me into a trap that I can’t see, at least not until it’s too late.
“Don’t be afraid,” the mad one says.
The look the other two give me tells me all I need to know. Fear may be the only card I have to play here.
The baleful one confirms it when he taunts, “Don’t fight us, and we’ll be nice.”
I’m too stunned by the thinly veiled threat to stop Khalil when he works the top of my dress open. If they weren’t so frightening and despicable, I’d be tempted to give in.
Men like this don’t exist in the real world.
They don’t have deep, rough voices like gravel, strong jaws, and smoldering intensity. They certainly don’t hang onto your every word while looking at you as if they’re seconds from tossing you over their shoulder and carrying you back to their cave.
No, the men where I’m from have podcasts and the attention span of a gnat. They can barely bench press a chair and think it’s a woman’s responsibility to make them feel like a man.
Thorin, Khalil, and Seth.
God, they look like villains. They look like every father’s worst nightmare.
When I first woke up and found them standing over me, I thought I was still asleep and dreaming, but they were very much real.
My attraction to each of them is wildly different.
