Page 81 of Psychotic Nightmares

“Don’t make me have Dante distract you, treasure.” He says, not looking away from my arm.

“I wanna watch. There’s nothing else to do.” I pout.

“Dante.” Julian looks at his friend then towards me. “Time for distractions.” His eyes sparkle with mischief.

“I’ve been looking forward to this.” Dante smirks. Julian pulls a clip on the bed, lowering the part of the bed where my legs are. Dante kneels down in front of me, “don’t move your arm, kitten.” He lifts my leg until my ankle lays on his shoulder and starts kissing up my calf. I moan quietly. He works his way up.

Is he gonna?

Yup. I squeak as his tongue comes out and flicks against my clit. Fuck. It’s not even been an hour since we left the bedroom.

“Dante,” I moan. I don’t think I can go again, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to enjoy the feeling of him desiring me. I close my eyes and lay my head back. His fingers find my entrance and he slowly presses them into me. “Fuck.” I whimper. Staying as still as I can.

“Nice and slow, brother. Try not to move her too much.” Julian instructs. “But make her moan. I fucking love hearing those sounds.” I whimper.

Why do these men have such an affect on me? Not just with their mix of rough and delicate touches, but with their words, their actions.

Dante moves his fingers at a leisurely place, kissing the top of my thighs, hips, and lower stomach. I don’t know how much time passes, all I know is I never want this feeling to end. My body feels like it’s on fire with how hot I am. The vibrations of the tattoo gun, the slow build of pleasure from Dante's unhurried thrusts, the tingles on my skin from where their lips caress me. It’s such an overwhelming feeling. Every time I got close to cumming, Dante purposely slowed down, or stopped touching me completely for a few seconds until I calmed down then he started again.

Don't cry.

Don’t cry.

Don’t cry.

“Almost finished, treasure.” Julian's voice sounds husky. Yet his words don’t just hit me, they hit Dante too. His thrusts speed up, eliciting louder moans from me, his tongue goes back to licking and flicking my clit. I won’t let him move away this time and grab his hair with my free hand to keep him there.

Julian holds my chin and presses his lips to mine. “Needy aren’t you. Do you need to cum, treasure?”

“Fuck, yes.” I whisper.

“Hmm, scream his name, baby. Just like you screamed mine.”

Dante twists his fingers and hits that sweet spot inside.

He remembers after all this time.

“Dante!” I cry out. Julian burrows his face into my neck and bites. It’s painful, but in a fucking good way. I feel my pussy tighten around Dante’s fingers. “Fuck, don’t stop.” He adds another finger, stretching me out and I’m gone, screaming out my pleasure.

“Mission Distract Grace completed.” Dante pulls away from me, I look down at him with half lidded eyes, the smug bastard is smiling. As I’m coming down from yet another high, Julian finishes his art. I close my eyes and relax, almost falling asleep in my blissful state, when I realise something.

I don't just want them. I need them. I need my men, need them to hold me, to comfort me, to LOVE me. Because I know that if I lose even one of them. My life will be over.

I hear him put the tattoo gun back on the table and poke out my bottom lip in a pot. I didn’t want it to end. “So what have you marked me with for the rest of my life?” I force myself to open my eyes.

“I’ve done a phoenix.” He replies with a smile.

“A phoenix. Why?”

“Because, little treasure, you have been through hell and back. You have been burned multiple times in your life, and every time you’ve come back through the ashes, you’re stronger, braver, and you look damn right beautiful when you do. Just like a phoenix.” I look down at the design, it’s small, only about five inches from head to tail and three inches wide, “I wanted to start small. If you want something bigger one day I can do that for you, but for your first I wanted to do something delicate, yet fiery. Just like you.” He tenderly kisses my shoulder. “I need you to survive for me, treasure.” He whispers, stroking along the scar on my arm, “because without you, I wouldn’t be here to tell my story, to tellourstory.”

Our story.

Ours.

“I need you, baby. I don’t think I could do any of this without you.”

“Do what?”