Acres, Natalie - Sex Junkie [Cowboy Addiction 1](Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 7

  “Your juices combined with the ginger juice will make for some pretty intense sensations,” Blake said.

  “I’m sure that’s true,” she drawled sarcastically, acting as if she were positively bored.

  That was one thing that pissed Grant off. Drug addicts were all the same in that regard. They believed nothing was as exciting as doing their drug.

  That was about to change.

  At one time, Morgan was a Dom’s fantasy. She was as sexual as most men and compliant, too. Whenever he took Morgan to bed, she was a treat, always willing to try something new, rarely using her safe word, and going that extra mile to pleasure her Dom…him. Now, she acted as if sex were boring?

  Oh yeah, Grant and Blake would force her to change her attitude. They’d fuck her in the middle of town if they had to, but one way or another, that sparkle of lust and desire would soon reappear in Morgan’s eyes.

  “Lean forward,” Blake told her, walking behind her. When she complied without giving him a blatant objection, Grant thought of that as an improvement.

  Blake gently eased her forward and helped her spread out. With her hands locked behind her back, her reaction to the ginger would be interesting.

  “I’ll insert the root tip up your ass,” Blake said, dragging the ginger up and down her crack.

  Immediately, she trembled. “You know I don’t like anything up my butt!”

  “That’s too bad. I happen to like being there. We’re preparing you for greater things, Morgan.” Blake massaged her bottom while she writhed under him, her body twitching as if she were trying to find a more comfortable position.

  “Are you okay?” Grant asked, smirking.

  “Fine,” she snapped.

  “Good, sub-muffin. We’ll have you all squared away soon,” Grant said. Then, he looked at Blake. “Do you need some help?”

  “Yes. Spread her cheeks. Since she isn’t feeling anything, I want the ginger buried inside her ass. Then, maybe she’ll at least remember what it’s like to have something thick and long locked inside her asshole.”

  Grant smiled and Blake waggled his brows. Grant held her cheeks apart and Blake dragged the tip of the cold ginger around her anus. The small hole puckered and Blake shoved his hand forward, securing the gingerroot inside her bottom.

  “There,” Blake announced. “Now, let’s wait and see if Morgan here remains unimpressed by ginger.”

  “If she is, she’ll be the first. And considering women and men have played with ginger for generations? She’ll probably be the last.” As Morgan strained against the cuffs binding her hands, Grant tilted his head toward the bench, realizing the ginger was beginning to take effect. “But you’re right, Blake, we’ll have to wait and see what happens.”

  Chapter Seven

  Wait hell! She was ready to blow up in a matter of minutes. Her nipples were already on fire. Her pussy was a fucking inferno, and her ass? Oh God, if they didn’t remove that thorn from her bottom, she might kill them both if she ever had the chance.

  Or maybe not kill them exactly, but perhaps torture them. Hmm, torture. She couldn’t help but think of the delicious ways they planned to punish and seduce her. Already, the slow burn was excruciating and exhilarating at the same time.

  If they meant to punish her, they might have considered another way to torment her. The gingerroot provoked lust in the third degree. The combustion combined pain and pleasure like someone set a match to her folds with every intention of torching her insides.

  She felt afflicted, as if she were being persecuted for the past choices she’d made. Perhaps Grant and Blake planned to help her lose sight of the drug upon which she’d long since focused. Maybe they had a fail-proof plan to help her sober up once and for all.

  “Oh my goodness, you have no idea what this feels like,” she whispered, her cheek mashed against the bench.

  “We have some,” Blake said, stroking her arm.

  “Describe it,” Grant grated out. “What are you feeling? Tell me.”

  “I can’t. It’s too delicious. Too intense. Hot.” She strangled on the words choking her. She bucked against her position, dying to rub against something cold or hot, slick or rough. Good God, she was ready. She’d never been so turned on in her life!

  If she could trade one addiction for another, undoubtedly she saw the benefits of getting hooked on their loving. Why couldn’t sex remedy her meth cravings? If her mind were preoccupied, filled with ideas for their next intimate encounter, she wouldn’t have an idle moment, one capable of turning her focus toward distorted images, illusions she only saw when she wasn’t pumped full of her favorite poison.

  The simmering began at the base of her spine. From front to back, her body tingled from the inside out. Good Lord, the building heat was almost as intense as an orgasm. “I could use some help over here.”

  Grant smirked. “What kind of help, sub?”

  “I need to get off,” she told him. “Please.”

  Blake shook his head. “You’ll wait.”

  “And she’ll remember how to address us properly.”

  “Please, Sir!” she exclaimed, her body groveling for the pleasure, seeking more stimulation as she writhed under their hands. Beads of sweat trickled across her forehead. She strained against the cuffs, arching her back as she lifted her chest slightly away from the bench.

  In her peripheral vision, she noticed Grant plugging in a device. “What is that?” she shrieked, her defenses shattering as the sizzling sensations zipped through her clit and heated her entire body.

  The scandalous look he gave her sent shivers down her spine, but it wasn’t anything comparable to the intimidating device he waved in front of her face. The foreign object represented a larger threat, tantalizing her insides with the promise of pleasure provoked by a sliver of pain.

  The violet wand was frequently discussed among the hookers Kilo employed. Those he put on the street often purchased their own after clients introduced them to the experience.

  Grant let the cord dangle from his fingertips. “Don’t worry. It will only sting for a little while.”

  She rocked forward, appreciating the smoldering tingle burning her clit, rousing her nipples. A special treat, the ginger made her insides clench as the forbidden enticed her in a way in which she’d never been tempted before.

  To think, she’d been told as an addict she’d never have the same sex drive again. Hell and damnation. Maybe that was the truth. Her sex drive wasn’t the same—her libido was on overload!

  She couldn’t thank meth for that. Wait. Oh yes she could. Meth had, in a roundabout way, led her back to Grant and Blake.

  “That’s right,” she whispered.

  “What is?” Blake asked, frowning, studying her face.

  “I was thinking about how meth led me back to you.”

  Grant grunted. He bit his bottom lip and Blake put up his hand. “I’ve got this.”

  “It’s true,” she pressed. “If I wasn’t hooked on meth, who knows where I’d be right now. I probably wouldn’t be here with you. I might have left home, pursued a career in the city, and never looked back. We don’t know. We can thank meth for bringing us back together.”

  “So help me God, if I have to listen to another junkie praise the name of meth, I may go crazy,” Grant said, moving around Blake when he tried to stand between him and Morgan.

  “I’ll handle this.”

  “The hell you will.” Grant turned on Morgan with pure rage settling in his eyes. “All meth users are the same. Meth will steal your soul if you let it. Now, you will be punished for the things you say about that damn drug. Eventually, you won’t remember anything you like about meth, or any other drug for that matter. If you do, you let me know. I’ll change your fucking mind while I program you to have something worthwhile to believe in again.”

  “I was simply suggesting that we should be grateful because meth brought us together again.” She rocked left and right. “This is like nothing I’ve ever felt before.” />
  “Exactly. That’s the ginger, baby,” Grant rasped. “It damn sure ain’t meth.”

  “You don’t understand,” she whispered, her eyelashes fluttering as she enjoyed the gingerroot the way she should.

  “You aren’t getting away with any drug discussion, Morgan,” Blake said, holding her chin firmly in a cupped hand. “Who knows where you’d be right now if you hadn’t wasted four years of your life on the streets with a bunch of thugs and junkies. If you want to thank meth? Thank your drug-dealing boyfriend for damn near destroying your life.”

  “We’ve talked about this,” she said, squirming. “I mean…I wasn’t—good Lord, you gotta do something to help me out here—I wasn’t living on the streets. Kilo took care of me.”

  Grant grabbed a paddle from underneath a nearby table. “The hell he did.” He spanked her repeatedly, and she cried out, aware of the way Grant struck her and understanding he wanted to punish her.

  He certainly meant to scold her, but wasn’t there always some element of pleasure in the pain he provoked? Morgan thought so.

  Blake knelt beside her. “Morgan, meth didn’t lead you back to us. You followed your heart when you saw us again. If you hadn’t been on drugs, I have every belief you would’ve been here where you should be long before now.”

  She twisted and turned. “Okay, whatever you say.”

  Grant leaned over her body. At her ear, he said, “I will never let you find something positive about your meth experience. Are we clear, sub?”

  “Yes,” she rasped, unable to think about much else outside of the ramifications from the ginger. Her body was under siege. She was their hostage, now and forever. Good God, if they could make a woman crave sex like this, who the fuck cared about drugs anyway? She’d made a casual comment, and they took her words and turned them into grounds for a battle. Lord help them all if she mentioned the four-letter word again.

  Oh no, she didn’t want to talk about meth. She wanted to talk about sex. On second thought? She was tired of talking. She wanted to fuck out their differences, roll under them, and work out the kinks of their arrangement.

  Her nipples throbbed, and her folds felt as if they’d had a flogger popped across them. This was exquisite and damning. She was ruined, completely devastated. She’d never be able to think about sex again without remembering this experience.

  “Are you comfortable?” Grant asked, taunting her with that dark edge in his deep voice.

  “Fuck no!”

  The paddle slipped from his hand and his open palm struck her hip. “Respect your partners, sub.”

  “Sir, please. I can’t take anymore. Honestly.” She gulped as she saw a flicker of added inspiration. She’d forgotten that about Grant. He not only enjoyed using toys and trinkets, he thrived on her nervous anticipation and then awaited her responses, probably hoping for vocal acceptance or the denial that rarely came.

  The more anxiety she felt—and apparently outwardly showed—the more gadgets he introduced, particularly when she deserved punishment. Apparently, mentioning meth lit a fury inside him. If he wouldn’t let her get by with a flip mention, he wasn’t about to allow her the opportunity of casual drug use.

  Grabbing the bulge in his pants, Grant bit his bottom lip and situated his hard cock, leaving his hand right inside his jeans until she was stretching her neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, just the tip of his cock, the umbrella shape of his crest. His obvious erection made her desire kick up a notch just as Blake’s fiery gaze sent her spinning.

  “Grant, please.”

  “Please what, sub-muffin?”

  “I don’t think I can take it.”

  “You can. You will take as much as I have to give, and you’ll still beg for more.” He flipped the switch at the base of the violet wand and held the tubular attachment against her upper arm, allowing her to witness the sparks jumping.

  Now she anticipated the pleasurable sensations awaiting her, the crude way her body would not only accept but also anxiously await a more personal connection.

  Grant caressed her arm and the good vibrations made her nipples spike. She needed more. She wanted a higher voltage, something to shock the hell out of her nerve endings and send her body into violent spasms, multiple orgasms.

  There was only one way to find out if she could handle the wand on full power. She had to challenge authority, defy it even.

  “Don’t tease me. If you’re going to play with a boy’s toy, be man enough to use the damn thing correctly.”

  Chapter Eight

  The building pleasure moved through her body like a locomotive. Blake knelt in front of her, petting her hair, stroking her cheek.

  Grant moved to her lower half, dragging the violet wand up and down her hips and thighs before applying pressure and settling the head against her right cheek. Combined with the sizzling components from the ginger, she was so aroused she thought she might die from lack of penetration.

  She needed sex worse than most people craved a drink of water in the heat of summer, and that’s when something else occurred to her, too. She craved the body-to-body connection more than she desired her next fix.

  Coming to terms with how Blake and Grant planned to help her overcome her addiction excited her. She hadn’t been this turned on since she began using, the drug robbing her of her sexual interest and day-to-day activities. Now, here she was in the throes of foreplay, and she couldn’t get these men in her bed fast enough.

  “Fuck me,” she rasped. “Please. You don’t understand. I’m almost there already. Just one stroke, maybe two, and that’s all it will take. I’ll come for you.”

  “I don’t think I heard you,” Grant said, his tone guttural and sexy.

  “I need you to take me upstairs and fuck me!” she exclaimed, her head tossing about. “No, actually, I take that back. I can’t wait that long. I need someone to screw me right here. Hurry. Now!”

  “Soon,” Blake promised her, lowering his lips to hers. His hot, minty breath smelled so sweet and fresh. She wanted a taste of him. When she missed the kiss he failed to deliver, she became furious.

  How long did they expect her to play this game?

  “What’s wrong, sub?” Grant asked, apparently picking up on her disappointment. “Can’t you wait?”

  “No, I can’t. Give me what I need,” she demanded, forcibly enough to warrant punishment. Even though she didn’t want to be scolded, her request slipped from her lips as if she believed she alone controlled the situation at hand.

  Grant bracketed his thick arm under her, pushing his palm against her stomach. At the same time, he shoved the wand under her pussy, and the rapid current shot through her cunt like a high-voltage surge of electricity.

  “Oh God!” she screamed, shaking violently as the continual vibrations not only whipped around her, but completely consumed her. She was lust in motion, sex in waiting. “I can’t do this anymore. Please. Oh Please! One of you…fuck me!”

  Grant brushed the tip of the wand inside her lips, tapping her clit and her inner thighs. Her muscles tightened and her pussy dampened. If they didn’t give her what she needed, she would do her damndest to break free of these handcuffs. Then, she’d dart upstairs and pleasure herself behind a closed door.

  Who was she fooling? She’d stick her fingers in her pussy on the way up the stairs.

  The punishment later would be worth the time she spent satisfying herself, especially if she had this kind of treatment to anticipate. Oh Lord, what she’d give to have an endless supply of ginger at her disposal. The violet wand wasn’t too shabby, either.

  Grant shocked her again, pressing the wand against her mound and rubbing the thick knob against her pelvic bone. “There, sub. Enjoy.”

  “Holy sweet mercy!” she screamed, her back bowing.

  She disconnected from her body then as Grant continued to manipulate her, rubbing the wand over the shape of her mound, tapping her pussy lips, and then flicking the tip against her clit.

  “No!” s
he screamed. “I can’t take it anymore.”

  “Then make him stop,” Blake said, looking her in the eyes and encouraging her to use her safe word.

  The pleasure was too great to vacate, the building lust too intense to deliberately abandon. She’d never been so aroused, so ridden with desire. And she’d never wanted to fuck so desperately in her life.

  “If you want to stop, you know what to say. You know what to do,” Blake explained.

  “Can’t,” she finally managed. “Don’t want to…not yet.”

  “She always loved the rush,” Grant said, biting his bottom lip. Shoving the trinket against her pussy again, a quick jolt of energy created a magnified throttle that just about rocked her into an orgasm.

  Instead of grasping onto the climax, her body stayed on the brink. Her clit didn’t just sting. The little button throbbed. The pain overshadowing the pleasure now, Morgan wondered how much more she could take.

  The high voltage discharged another disruptive current, one so severe her body jerked with multiple spasms jolting her from her toes to her nose. She still wanted the full effect worse then than ever before. She wanted a screaming orgasm instead of the body tremors teasing her with what remained out of reach.

  She longed for that pleasure punch, the one that would inevitably rock her world, shake and rattle her insides until she wasn’t only spent, she was retired. She wanted sex on the fly, the kind of experience that trumped all others without their hand or cock to guide her, and she was almost there.

  Another few strikes and the foreplay was bound to come to an end. She’d lock into the throes of an orgasm similar to those experienced in a wet dream. Once she grabbed hold, she wouldn’t let go until her climax washed over her like an unrelenting rain.

  Grant used the toy like a spear, poking her here and there, jabbing her mound and then tracing her pussy lips again. Her cunt was sore. Oh hell, she couldn’t take it anymore. The pain, once delicious and intoxicating, had become more than she could manage. Vacating her plans to get off without permission, she succumbed to the loss of what little control she possessed.