What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [99]
Brent appeared just as desperate, his eyes half shut, his jaw lax, as he gazed at her gaping mouth, then her eyes—just before he lightly shook his head, refusing her unspoken appeal.
Jenna closed her eyes, crushed and left feeling amazingly empty given the erection still thrusting between her legs. God, why didn’t he want to? How could he say no to her—now?
That’s when his deep, lusty voice broke through the other sounds around her. “It’s so hot to watch you be fucked, my dirty little wench,” he said, dark, seductive, still affecting just a hint of his pirate accent. “I love to see your wet cunt swallow that cock, to hear the way you purr and moan.”
And somehow, just that helped. Again, not a physical touch—but now it was as if his voice reached out to her instead. “You make my cock so fucking hard, my lady,” he added with a sexy glint in his eye. And she had no idea why he wasn’t fucking her—or touching her, or something—but, incredibly, just the dirty words he spoke so warmly were enough to make her feel close to him. She knew he’d felt her need, and this was how he was feeding it.
“Put the wench on her hands and knees on the beach,” he said, and she wondered what he had in store for her next. Jenna didn’t fight or resist as the other two men lifted her down from the fallen tree trunk and gently pushed her to her knees in the soft, hot sand. She planted her hands in front of her, bending over, thinking—Please, Brent, fuck me. You, not anyone else. It’s you my body craves.
“Very good, my lady,” Brent said, fully back in character now. “Such cooperation may get you to Jamaica yet.” And when he moved near her, she was sure her silent begging had been answered—but Brent merely bent down to lift the long emerald skirting back up over her ass.
How obscene must she look right now? But it didn’t bother her; it only made her feel like an object of erotic desire—in a good way. She’d always believed being objectified was horrible, but she was slowly learning that, sometimes, it was exactly what she wanted: to be desired solely for sex, for her sexual self. It made her feel free of all the mental chains that had kept her from fully enjoying her own sexual nature up to now.
“Zack, fuck that pretty pink pussy,” Brent said, stepping back to one side of her. “And Rico, fuck her soft little mouth.”
Part of Jenna’s heart broke. He really, truly wasn’t going to be with her in any way? What was wrong?
Yet then she sensed pirate Zack kneeling behind her in the sand, his hands at her hips. Pirate Rico then dropped to his knees in front of her. And Brent stood to the side, again just a vague image in her peripheral vision—but oh God, for him, suddenly, again, she wanted this. Whether he was really a part of it or not. She wanted to be that dirty, that filled. She wanted him to watch. She wanted to feel it for him.
She cried out as Zack plunged inside her from behind—and, oh Lord, the position made him feel bigger. She bit her lip, adjusting. Then she saw Rico’s sturdy cock before her eyes, in his hand—ready.
Releasing a hot breath, she opened her mouth and let him slide inside. He went slow, gentle, clearly understanding that this was a lot for her to take. She wanted it to be Brent. Just as she wanted the man behind her to be Brent, too. Impossible as it was, that’s how she thought of it in a way. Neither man was Brent, yet they did his bidding, responded to his commands. They fucked her because he said to.
And oh God, how the two pirates filled her. It was almost overwhelming, and at moments, she forgot all about Brent because her senses were on overload—her body was being pummeled from front and back, top and bottom, and all she could do was take in the sensations and endure the way they echoed through her. Sex, she had learned here, was about so much more than certain body parts—at times, she truly felt it