Auctioned to the Lumberjacks Read Online Stephanie Brother

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Erotic, Taboo Tags Authors: Stephanie Brother Advertisement1

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When he bends to press his lips onto mine, I freeze, but his mouth is soft, and he takes the time to make the kiss teasing rather than invasive.

I spin like I’m drunk, telling myself to endure but finding myself slipping into pleasure that I don’t know whether to greet or resist.

Finn’s fingers fumble with the remaining buttons of my new shirt until they’re released, and my breasts are bared to the room. His mouth moves to suck my nipples into stiff, wet points, sending electric sparking between my thighs. His hands discover all the softness I have, kneading and kneading as though I’m made of dough, and he wants to shape me into something that will please him. He hauls me onto his lap like I weigh nothing, pressing my body against the rock-hard plains of his chest. He smells of fir trees and cinnamon, of wood chips and winter, and he buries his face in my neck, inhaling my scent and moaning at the discovery.

It’s easy to slide down onto his waiting cock. West has already spread me like butter and I’m dripping his cum. I don’t need to move because Finn’s bossy hands direct my movements, taking what he needs. Greedy fingers grab my ass, pulling me against the ridge of his pubic bone as he thrusts up into me like a jackhammer.

In his arms, I’m a wisp of a person. Insubstantial but necessary, out of control but bringing about the tumble of these men into utter weakness.

“You feel so fucking perfect,” Finn gasps, and then his mouth finds mine, and his tongue slides inside, and I spin again.

This shouldn’t feel good.

I told myself I could endure it for Hallie.

I told myself I could get through anything if I just kept my end goal in mind.

I imagined lying back and thinking of carefree days in my past or dreaming of carefree days in my future. I believed that I could be a passive participant in fulfilling the needs of my owners. But that isn’t what this is, and I don’t understand why.

“Skye.” The sound of my name on Finn’s lips cuts through all my confused thoughts. “Fuck, Skye.”

And I come when he does, going slack in his arms as he slumps back against the plaid blanket, taking me with him.

“That’s it. My turn.” Jack hooks his arm around my body, pulling me from Finn before our sweat has had time to cool. Finn’s cock slips from inside me, and with it, liquid trickles, wet and warm, down the inside of my thigh. Like a rag doll, I’m pushed to the bed facedown. Jack’s calloused hands grip my wrists together over my head, and he wraps them with warm leather, his belt or West’s.

Panic surges through me, but I close my eyes and step outside my body when he tugs my hips up until I’m on my knees with my legs spread wide. His fingers probe roughly for his enjoyment, not mine, pumping in and out as though he wants to clean his friends from inside me. I grit my teeth, but then the pad of his middle finger finds my clit, and I almost scream. It’s too swollen. Too sensitive. I can’t take the pain of raw nerves and violent intrusion, except when he replaces his fingers with his cock, and enters me like a battering ram, I come so hard, I can’t hold myself up. Instead, Jack supports my limp frame, hooking his huge branch of an arm beneath my stomach and holding my body exactly where he wants it until he, too, fills me to the brim.

Tears leak from my eyes, not because it hurts but because I can’t hide the way any of these men have physically destroyed me and put me back together. Carter’s pretense at emotion was so much worse than the indifference of these men. At least I know what they need and expect. If this is their worst, I know I can endure the year.

You like it. My internal whisper is both shocking and right.

I’m a masochist.

I’m disturbed.

I’m deranged for experiencing this pleasure, for not at least putting up some kind of fight.

And the reality is like a punch to the gut because I was never like this before Carter found me, and kept me, and broke me into a million pieces.

After, Jack stalks from the room. Finn unhooks the belt from my wrist and pulls the blanket over me. West stands by the wall, his face in shadow, so I can’t make out his expression.

Words hang in the air between us, but none are spoken for long, empty seconds.

“Sleep now.” Finn climbs from the bed, lingering as though he’s waiting for me to say goodnight.

When I remain silent, he follows West from the room, closing the door behind him.

I stare at the wall; rough plaster painted a shade of off-white. Unfamiliar shadows lurk in every corner, and I tug the blanket over my head, curling onto my side until I’m just a small lump beneath the fabric. Between my legs, the presence of the men outside this room lingers.


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