The Face of Scandal by Helena Maeve

raced up her flanks, peaking her nipples and pinking her cheeks.
    “You’re a heavy sleeper,” Ward chided. Breaking away to speak gave Hazel the illusion of a reprieve. He returned to his task a beat later, greedily lapping at her cunt as he clenched his hands around her hips. Behave yourself .
    Hazel had no desire to get away, but she couldn’t have kept still if she’d tried. She whined when Ward pressed two fingers into her, curling them toward her belly button as if to tickle. Experience had taught him that she was easily aroused and quick to climax. If he drew out his caresses it was only because he was evil. In her dazed, gasping state, Hazel loved him all the more for it.
    Dylan knelt down by the couch and slid a hand into her hair, splitting her attention between his warm gaze and the sweet burst of sensation in her cunt. “Feels good?”
    She nodded, or thought she did. Muscle coordination was becoming difficult as her body squeezed around Ward’s fingers.
    “So tight around me,” he snickered. “Like she can’t bear it when I pull out…” Like a boy showing off on the playground, Ward removed his fingers and watched her writhe against the couch cushion. His grin would’ve been infuriating if it wasn’t for the heat in his eyes.
    This was turning him on, too. Small mercies . Hazel hooked her hands and ankles around his waist.
    “Mm, I think she’s ready,” Dylan observed almost detachedly. “Gonna give her what she wants?”
    Ward chuckled. “Not yet.” He flicked his palm against her cunt, a stinging slap echoing off the tall walls of the living room. “I’m not done with her.”
    Hazel whined. She couldn’t muster surprise when Dylan took her wrists and pinned them above her head. They liked her immobilized and struggling. She liked it, too, if only because it forced them to put their whole focus on her and only her.
    There was something selfish about being the center of their world for the duration of a scene and Hazel wanted nothing more than to prolong the illusion—even if it meant holding off on the orgasm that threatened to engulf her.
    With his free hand, Ward palmed her small breasts, pinching and squeezing at her sensitive nipples until Hazel let her legs fall open in silent invitation. His eyes lit up. “Good girl…” He entered her with two fingers, then squeezed in a third when Hazel began to relax around the intrusion.
    She blew out a breath, pleasure humming through her bones.
    “Too much?” Dylan wondered.
    He didn’t sound concerned, but Hazel knew he’d call Ward off if need be. She shook her head. Three fingers were maybe a little thicker than Ward’s cock, but only toward the third knuckle. She didn’t need this much foreplay to get her ready for him and they all knew it.
    Evil .
    “Give her one more,” Dylan said, as if reading her mind.
    Ward glanced up—not at her—and swallowed hard. His silence might as well have been acquiescence.
    Tucking his pinkie against his ring finger and gently working them in proved more ambitious than anything Hazel had tried since college. This time, the pull of loosened muscles had her sucking in a breath.
    “Relax,” Dylan whispered, unconcerned. He gave her left hand a fortifying squeeze. “Ward’s hands aren’t that big.”
    “You’re not the one I’m fucking with them,” Ward shot back.
    It took Hazel a moment to realize he was coming to her defense. But all the clever comebacks in the world did not a mutiny make. When it came down to the wire, Ward fucked her with four fingers, mingling pleasure and pain with a deft touch. He used his other hand to strum her clitoris, but the sensation was dulled, distant.
    Hazel breathed through the odd sense of fullness as best she could. She knew she was trapped between him and Dylan, but she also trusted Ward to be careful as he stretched her with nearly the full width of his palm. His gaze was intent on hers, measuring every twitch of discomfort and every sigh of relief. He