The jeans were so tight they felt like a second skin, the lace of my thong riding up just enough to remind me I was wearing it. I’d spent twenty minutes adjusting my dress in the mirror, making sure the hem rode high enough on my thighs to tease but not so high it looked desperate. The heels made my ass look even rounder, the kind of ass that made men’s eyes linger a second too long. And Jack? He couldn’t even be bothered to show up.
My fingers trembled as I hung up the phone, his laughter and the muffled sounds of some party girl’s voice still ringing in my ear. "Busy, babe. I’ll hit you up later."* Like hell he would. The tears burned, but I swallowed them down. Fuck him. Fuck his excuses. Fuck the way he made me feel like an afterthought.
Martin answered on the second ring. "Where are you?" His voice was steady, warm—always there when Jack wasn’t.*"Hotel bar downtown. You good?" I didn’t hesitate. "I’m on my way."
The bar was packed, bodies pressed together, the air thick with sweat and the sharp tang of alcohol. Martin stood when he saw me, his gaze dragging over my body like a physical touch. Beside him, his friend—Derek, I think his name was—turned, and his eyes went dark. "Damn, Elena," Martin murmured, pulling me into a hug that lasted a beat too long. His hand settled on my lower back, fingers dangerously close to the curve of my ass. "You look fucking incredible."
Derek didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. The way he looked at me, like he was already imagining peeling that dress off my body, said enough.
We drank. We laughed. The music pulsed, the bass vibrating through my bones, making my skin hum. Martin leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. "Dance with us." Not a question. A command. I let him take my hand.
The dance floor was a sea of writhing bodies, but all I felt were their hands on me. Martin’s fingers tangled in my hair, pulling just enough to make my breath hitch. Derek’s palms slid down my sides, gripping my hips as I rolled against him, my ass grinding into his cock. I could feel him hardening through his jeans, and it made me wet. Fuck, it made me *soaked*.
"You’re a tease, you know that?" Derek growled, his mouth hot against my neck. I turned, pressing my tits against Martin’s chest as I reached back and fisted Derek’s shirt, yanking him closer.
"Maybe I just know what I want," I purred.
Martin’s laugh was dark. "Then take it."
The hotel room was a blur of hands and mouths. I straddled the coffee table, their eyes burning into me as I peeled the dress over my head, letting it pool at my feet. The thong followed, a slow tease as I hooked my fingers into the lace and dragged it down my thighs. Derek groaned, his cock straining against his zipper. Martin’s breath hitched when I spread my legs, letting them see how wet I was.
"Fuck, you’re perfect," Martin rasped.
I didn’t let them touch me—not yet. I crawled toward Martin first, pushing him back onto the couch. His cock was thick, veiny, leaking at the tip when I wrapped my fingers around it. I sank onto him in one smooth motion, my pussy clenching around him as I rode him hard, my tits bouncing with every roll of my hips. "You like that?" I taunted, leaning down to bite his lip. "You like how tight I am?"
Derek didn’t wait for an invitation. He knelt behind me, his fingers slick with lube as he pressed against my ass. "You sure?" he asked, but his voice was rough, desperate. I reached back, grabbing his cock and guiding him in. The stretch burned, but fuck, it felt good. "Yes. Fuck me. Both of you."
They moved in sync, filling me so completely I could barely breathe. Martin’s hands gripped my waist, his thrusts deep and punishing. Derek’s cock pistoned into my ass, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise. I came with a scream, my pussy flooding Martin’s cock, my ass clenching around Derek so tight he groaned.
"Again," I demanded.
And they gave it to me.
Three times. Three loads in my pussy, two in my ass, one painted across my tits when I wrapped my lips around Derek’s cock and sucked him dry. My body was a mess—sweat and cum and the ache of being used so thoroughly. I collapsed between them, my skin buzzing, my mind blank with pleasure.
Martin traced a finger through the cum dripping down my thigh. "You good?"
I smirked. "Better than good."
I didn’t bother cleaning up. Let Jack see what he missed. Let him see the cum drying on my skin, the bite marks on my neck, the way my legs trembled when I walked. I texted him when I got home. "Hope your night was as fun as mine."
The dots appeared immediately. "Where are you?"
I sent him a picture—the mirror shot of my body, my fingers spreading my pussy to show him the cum still leaking out. *"Guess."*
His reply came fast. "Fuck, Elena—"
I didn’t read the rest. I blocked his number, laughed, and went to take a shower—though I made sure to leave just enough of them on me to remember. Some lessons were best learned the hard way.