Page 62 of Cruel Games

Maxwell’s fingers stilled on my belly. “It is when your mother starts inviting a procession of gay men of the right family to dinner!”

An image of ultra-posh guys making eyes with Maxwell from across the table pushed itself to the forefront of my mind. I pressed my lips together and choked on a laugh.

Orlando slipped a finger through the lacing around my cleavage and slipped it into my bra. His fingertip grazed my nipple, making wetness gather in my folds.

He leaned close and muttered, “I had to listen to daily lectures from my grandfather on the futility of taking it up the ass. Even after the headmaster told him it was all a misunderstanding, the old man wouldn’t shut up about ass fucking.”

I turned my head away, trying to hide my amusement. “Really?”

“By the time he let me out of the house, I was ready to fuck someone’s ass.” He eased his thumb down my keyhole and gave my nipple an extra-hard tweak. “Yours.”

A jolt of arousal made my knees wobble. What was this, revenge by sexual torture? Were they trying to tease me to death? Because it was working.

“Listen…” My tongue darted out to lick my dry lips. “It was me who told Mr. Burgh that you weren’t having a tryst. I confessed to setting you both up.”

“And that’s the reason we’re not throwing you into the North Sea with a dildo up your tight, little ass,” said Maxwell.

Another tune pumped out of the speakers. Speed garage, with rapid kick drums and a sweeping bass. The DJ yelled that it was time to get funky. I wanted to tell him I’d already boarded the funky train and couldn’t find a way off.

I made several rapid-fire calculations. “Let me buy you both drinks. Two bottles of champagne to soothe things over.”

Orlando rubbed his erection against my hip, the feel of his thick length, giving me a full-body shudder. “You’re going to have to give us more than a few pathetic drinks.”

Maxwell’s hips ground into my ass, as though he was giving his best friend moral support on the sexual intimidation front. “You’ll have to be nice.”

Grinding my teeth, I gave Maxwell a hard shove in the chest, moving him a mere six inches.

“This is me being nice,” I snapped. “Don’t forget you twats set me up for a sex tape to get me expelled. You deserved everything you got.”

“See what I mean, Max?” Orlando said to his friend. “She needs to be taught a good, hard lesson.”

“More than once.” Maxwell’s fingers slipped between my legs, grazing my fabric-covered clit.

My eyes bulged. It was as though he had flipped a switch and turned on the electricity. The most intense pleasure bolted through my core, forking out shockwaves of sensation to my every nerve ending.

“A-alright,” I said. “What do you want?”

“A spit roast.”

Prickly heat crawled across my skin. Suddenly, my catsuit became too tight, the fabric too coarse. I needed to get naked. Now. “No, but I’ll give you both handjobs if you return the favor.”

“Blow job,” said Maxwell. “And you’ll let us cum in your face.”

I couldn’t believe I was negotiating with these wankers. “No spunk in my eyes. You can cum in my mouth instead.”

Orlando grinned, and Maxwell gave me a hard squeeze around the waist.

“Let’s go.” Orlando slipped his hand out of my keyhole and grabbed my wrist.

I spluttered. “Wait a minute, aren’t you going to let a girl get warmed up first?”

Orlando leaned into me, his teeth bared. “The same way you made us strip in front of the camera and then handcuffed us both to the bed to be your fuck machines? No.”

I swallowed back a laugh. The way he described that night was funny as hell. I still couldn’t understand how the gullible fuckers had let me set them up.

Guilt gave my chest a tiny squeeze. Getting them suspended and in trouble with their families hadn’t been cool. Mr. Burgh’s disappointed face pushed itself to the front of my mind, making my heart sink.

My expression smoothed into a neutral mask. “Alright, where should we do it?”