Page 34 of Cruel Games

Tilting my head to the side, I frowned. “How many would you prefer?”

Orlando paused. “How about twelve inches?”

I gave him a low, throaty chuckle, thinking about how incriminating this conversation would sound when I stole the footage and made a remix.

Maxwell stood shirtless in his leather pants, looking like a human tapestry with all those tattoos. The artwork on his back consisted of a giant skull embellished with the same ornate, paisley swirls as the patterns over his prominent pecs.

“The sooner we get naked, the sooner we can all fuck,” I said.

Without a word of complaint, they both pulled off their shoes and socks. I unstrapped my heeled shoes and toed them off. Disappointment flickered over their features, but neither of them mentioned that I hadn’t pulled down my dress.

Orlando glanced over his shoulder at his desk. A closed laptop lay atop its surface, the cable curled around its case. My gaze caught a dim, blue light blinking within a white charger in the wall socket above the desk. I pressed my lips together, noting the location of the second camera.

“Go on, then.” I snapped the strap of my dress. “Take something else off.”

Orlando unbuttoned his leather waistcoat, uncovering tantalizing, golden skin. I licked my lips and made an appreciative hum at his sculpted chest and tight abs. “Do you work out?”

He ran a hand through his slicked-back blond hair. “Captain of the football team. Your turn.”

“Maxwell needs to take something off, too.”

He frowned. “But I’m shirtless.”

“So? We had a deal.”

Orlando snickered. “Get ’em off.”

“Go on.” I pulled my dress strap all the way down, giving them an even bigger glimpse of my cleavage. “Let’s see how far those tats go.”

“Fine,” Maxwell growled. “But I’ll be wanting a lot more than twelve fucking inches for this.”

He unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper and eased them down his hips, uncovering more of the vampire tattoo. The paisley frame beneath her tongue spread down to a thatch of black pubes, and jutting out from them was the longest, thickest erection I’d ever seen. Best of all, it was covered in paisley tattoos.

“Fuck me,” the words spilled out as a breathy gasp.

“What did she say?” asked Maxwell.

Orlando smirked. “Fuck me. I think you’ve impressed her.”

“Your turn,” Maxwell growled. “Take it all off.”

I slipped the dress down to my waist. No big deal. It wasn’t like they hadn’t already gotten to taste and examine my tits at close range.

“How about you, Orlando?” I grinned. “Do you have a big dick?”

“You like huge cocks?” Orlando’s hands hovered over his fly.

“Can’t get enough of them.” I licked my lips as Maxwell gave himself a few slow pumps.

He smirked and unbuttoned his fly. Orlando’s cock-head was magnificently thicker than anything I’d ever experienced, including some of the dildos my friends bought me on my seventeenth birthday. Precum glistened on its reddened slit, making my mouth water with the desire to taste him.

I shook off those treacherous thoughts. This was the wanker who had at least two cameras running and had no qualms about using that footage to get me sent away.

“She can’t believe her eyes,” said Maxwell.

I pulled my dress down my hips and stepped out of the puddle of fabric. “It’s the first time I’ve seen two naked guys, but size-wise, I’ve had bigger and better.”

Their smug grins faltered, and petty triumph fizzled up through my insides. I looped my fingers under my pink, lace panties. “Want me to take these off?”