The Never King (Vicious Lost Boys #1)(28)

He’s silent and stoic for a second and then suddenly he’s yanking me back to my feet and pressing me to the edge of the table. “What are you doing? What is your plan? Fuck every Lost Boy on the island just to provoke me?”

I frown up at him, catching on the words he used.

There is always something to glean from words, which ones, how they’re said.

If they’re used as knives or balms.

Provoke me.

Provoke me.

I’ve gotten to the mighty myth of Peter Pan and my heart beats a little harder with excitement.

“Yes,” I hear myself saying. “They call me Winnie Whore, you know. Fucking boys is what I do best.”

The breath he takes in is long and labored and it rumbles in the back of his throat.

I tremble beneath him, not from the cold. Never from the cold.

I sense the rising fury in his body, the tremor before the earthquake.

I have one second to breathe before he’s spinning me around and bending me over the table.

His left hand presses at the back of my head, driving my face to the wooden table. His other hand bunches my skirt around my waist and yanks down my panties.

I gasp out, sending a fallen leaf skittering over the table.

“If you want to fuck the Lost Boys,” Peter Pan says, “why not start at the top?”

He kicks my legs apart, baring me and I hear the rasp of a zipper opening.

“Maybe I will,” I say.

My heart is thudding so hard, I swear I can hear it ramming against the table.

This is insane, all of it is insane, but my pussy is throbbing, my clit pulsing, and I can feel myself growing wetter by the second.

I sense Bash and Kas and Vane beyond us, watching, and that makes the butterflies in my stomach turn to a frenzy.

The head of Pan’s cock comes to my opening and I let out a little yelp.

The hand at the back of my head tangles in my hair, slides to the back of my neck.

“If you want to act like a whore,” he says as he leans over me, “then I’ll treat you like a whore.”

He shoves into me.

I gasp out.

One of the twins says, “Fuck me,” low and beneath his breath as the table shudders from Pan’s thrusts inside of me.

He’s big, stretching me wide, and I tense beneath him as he slides in and out, not with speed, but force.

The buzz has worn off and there is only the pulsing need in my pussy now, the urge to be released.

I’m slick beneath him. He’s hard as a rock.

A moan escapes my raw throat as the pressure at my clit builds and builds. I wiggle beneath him like a cat in heat trying to get any kind of friction against my swollen nub.

Pan knows exactly what I’m doing.

He reaches around to cup me and then stops, his cock buried inside of me.

I gasp out, choke on the breath.

“Do you want to come, Darling?” he asks, his voice rough at my ear.

“Yes,” I say, barely a word at all.

“Beg for it.”

“What?”

“Beg for it, Darling.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, try to come back to my body. I think my soul has left and is floating off to the stars.

I haven’t felt this awake in…ever.

“Please,” I say and suck in another breath. “Please can I come?”

His fingers shift against me, finding that swollen heat. I cry out, jolt beneath him.

He goes still again, pulls his cock out a fraction, then pushes forward slowly, teasingly.

I’m practically vibrating against the table.

“Please, Pan. Oh god.”

“Go on then,” he says. “Come for me while the Lost Boys watch.”

Then he swirls two fingers around my clit, pumping into me, and I let go.

I am flying.

Soaring.

White stars blink behind my eyes as all the air rushes out of me and a shrill moan escapes my throat.

My nerves burn with pleasure as the heat cascades through my pussy and I clench around him as he drives in deep.

He grows harder, harder, filling me up and then his hands sink to my hips and he slams into me and growls so loudly it makes me shiver.

He rides through the orgasm, angling up against my inner wall, the head of his cock throbbing as he spills the last of his cum.

When he pulls out of me, I slump against the table, panting.

I think that must be it but then Bash comes around the table, a significant bulge in his pants.

“Can I?” Bash asks.

Peter Pan drops into a chair and nods his consent.

Bash gets behind me, still bent over the table. He’s bare for me in seconds and nestles into my heat. “Little Darling whore, such a filthy little mess.”

I shiver beneath his words.

“Brother,” he says. “Get over here.”

Kas hesitates and I lift off the table to look down the length of it at him.

There is something dark in his eyes. A hunger he doesn’t want to satiate.

Kas is the nice one, but I don’t think he’s nice enough to deny what he wants to take.

He gets up, kicks a chair aside and comes to the edge of the table by my face.

“Fuck yeah,” Bash says as he pushes into me. “Wrap those pretty little lips around my brother’s cock.”

Kas doesn’t wait. Now that he’s made his decision, he’s ready to act on it.