Page 25 of Locked in Wonderland

“Do you want my fingers in your hole?”

“Yes.”

“Ask nicely.”

“I want it.”

“What do you want?”

Christ. The demand was obvious. They wanted me to say it. Wanted to drag every humiliating word out of me, piece by piece.

“I want your fingers in me.”

“In you, where? one twin asked innocently. Your mouth? Your ear?”

“In my hole,” I ground out. “I want your fingers in my hole.”

“He warms up real nice,” the other twin said with amusement. “I thought when he played hard to get, we had a frigid one on our hands. Pretty, but with all the sexual allure of a mannequin.”

“Fuck you,” I snapped automatically.

The hand vanished from my cock, leaving me fucking nothing but air.

I made a strangled sound of frustration.

“That’s not very polite.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” he asked mildly. “Or do you just want my hand back on your dick?”

“Both.”

The laugh that earned me was low and pleased, and then his hand was back on my cock while a thick finger finally pushed inside me.

“Oh God,” I gasped.

“You like that, pretty?”

“Yeah.”

The finger slid deeper, curling just enough to brush my prostate. Pleasure shot through me so sharply my knees nearly gave out again. Another finger followed soon after, stretching me while the other twin stroked my cock in slow, deliberate pulls that dragged me closer and closer to the edge.

I was trapped between them, suspended in sensation. Fingers inside me. A hand on my cock. Their voices in my ears. Their bodies hemming me in from both sides. Every second felt hotter than the last until coherent thought became almost impossible.

“I’m gonna―”

The deeply embedded fingers abruptly stilled.

I whimpered at the loss, the pressure inside me no longer moving, no longer enough. A second later, they withdrew entirely, leaving me empty and aching. Before I could protest, a hand planted against my chest and shoved. The movement caught me off guard. I stumbled backward, only to be caught immediately by another pair of hands. Between them, the twins guided me across the room while my brain struggled to catch up.

“You should sit,” one said.

“Before you fall,” the other added.

They pushed me down onto a chair. Except it wasn’t just a chair. Not unless they came with bare muscular thighs and powerful arms. When surprise had me instinctively trying to stand, those same arms dragged me back. I sucked in a sharp breath as I landed fully in someone’s lap, my back pressed against a broad chest.

The third person.