Escaping Death

Chapter 60

I'm fixated on the way his inked fingers loop and knot the black silk ribbons around Dean's body, binding him helplessly to the bench. The muscles in his arms and chest flex violently against the restriction of the ribbons, threatening to Hulk right out of his shirt.

The thought of Dean — kind, gentle, but deadly Dean — going beast mode with me as his prey has molten heat pooling low in my belly. My thighs rub together reflexively, the friction against my core is just this side of enough to make me whimper with need.

Tate fastens the last knot around his brother and pins me with a look of hunger so dire all the moisture in my body floods south.

Oh, fuck.

Wordlessly, Tate prowls over towards me, coming to a stand behind me so that I'm facing Dean. Tate draws the zipper of my dress down painfully slowly. My chest heaves with anticipation and desire. He's so close to me but has yet to actually lay a finger on me.

I wonder idly if that's deliberate, because I have the feeling that when he does finally touch me my skin may erupt into violent flames.

Dean watches helplessly as my dress glides gently down my body, pooling at my feet, leaving me bare except for my skimpy, red panties.

He releases a strangled sound while he fights against the restraints he knows he won't be able to break out of. His eyes pinch shut like he's in pain, and when I look down to his lap I can see why.

His erection has broken free from the slit in his boxers and jerks up looking painfully hard. The evidence of his arousal beads temptingly at the head of his cock, glistening against the metal from his piercing.

I've never wanted to taste something more than I have at this moment. I want to dive into his lap and suck the juice from his slit as I tongue around his piercing.

As if he has a direct line to my thoughts, Dean shudders before his eyes open as black saucers.

"Tate," his brother's name is a whispered plea.

From behind me still, Tate tuts at his brother. "Don't let him fool you, Sunshine. He's loving this more than you can possibly imagine. The more we deny him, the more he gets off."

I turn to face Tate, stepping out of my dress as I do but nearly trip over my own feet when I catch sight of him.

His slacks are pushed down over his hips, and he's standing there cock in hand, stroking himself leisurely.

But that's not what nearly topples me over. It's the two, three, four...eight bars pierced through the underside of his length like a ladder from his balls to his tip.

And fuck do I want to climb it.

Tate beckons me closer while he seats himself down on another bench opposite Dean. "Come, Sunshine."

Gods I think I already have.

I move to straddle him but he twists me by the hips so I'm facing Dean again. Tate hooks his thumbs into the elastic of my panties and guides them down to my feet so I can step out of them, too.

Rather than cast them aside, he uses them to bind my arms behind my back at my elbows. I rub my thighs together again seeking more friction as I watch Dean's cock pulse and jerk with need against his stomach.

"You have such a delectable ass, like a peach I just want to —" I yelp loudly as Tate's teeth sink into the flesh of my right cheek. "So fucking juicy," he hums.

Tate's fingers skirt up the inside of my legs where the evidence of my arousal has slickened my thighs. Easily he slips one, long finger inside my heat, pumping me in long, slow strokes before adding another.