I knew exactly what spot she meant; Silas was one of the only men I’d been with—aside from Castor and Julian—who’d known how to find that spot.
Every.
Single.
Time.
My core clamped in memory, and I slid my fingers down from my clit to my entrance, reaching up inside to curl my fingers to where I wanted Silas’s cock.
And then he started talking, hoarse and demanding. “I can feel how wet you are, Mary Margaret. You’re wet all over my stomach, and I can feel how slippery your fingers are from fucking your own pussy.” Silas stabbed his hips up and Viola cried out.
“So deep,” she gasped into my ear. “I can feel him everywhere…my hips feel so tight and my thighs are tight too and it’s so hard to breathe…shit, I’m going to come again.”
“Not yet,” Silas growled. “Viola, I want you to take those hands that you have so prettily wrapped around my Molly’s waist, and I want you to move them down to Molly’s cunt. Yes, just like that. And now take one and push it inside of her, and then use the other to work her clit. Molly, I want you to take your fingers and press them against my mouth so I can taste you.”
He’s trying to take over again, I realized, but at that moment, his tongue danced across the already-wet pads of my fingertips and Viola found the right pressure and pace, and I didn’t care.
“Viola,” Silas said, his breath tickling against my fingers, “you can’t come until Molly comes. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” she breathed against my shoulder, resting her forehead there as Silas began fucking her from below. Her fingers were magic, but even more magic was Silas underneath us, all muscles and man and need, covered with sweat, his face angry and worshipful all at once as he sucked on my fingers and drove his cock into Viola.
I pulled my fingers back to knead my breast, and he started saying words, filthy words that were so wrong and so raw, words that stroked the inside of me like I wanted his cock to, do you like another girl in your pussy? and she feels so good, Molly, you picked a good one and sit on my face, God, I’d kill someone to have you on my face right now.
I knew what Viola meant about everything being tight—my neck and back and stomach and even my feet felt ready to snap, ready to shatter like so much glass, and it felt like there was nothing but those fingers on my cunt and Silas’s beautiful eyes and filthy mouth.
“I’m going to fuck her pussy like it’s yours,” he said, to me, only to me, as if we were the only people really here. “I’m going to make her take my cock, and you’re going to feel every minute of it and know that each and every stroke is for you. And you are going to look me in the eyes while you come and it will be my name you scream. Understood?”
“Y-yes,” I shivered out; Viola’s were fingers so good and so strong and so fast. “Yes.”
“Please,” Viola begged in my ear. “Please hurry. I can’t wait much longer—”
Her voice broke off as Silas thrust upward at double the pace, a delighted laugh bursting from him as he watched both Viola and I tumble over the cliff and plunge to the rocks below.
She went first, and it was her hitched gasp, her fingers digging into me as her body was taken, that triggered my own release. I went hot, then cold, feverish and fervent and almost hallucinatory as my world shrank down to his grin and his eyes blazing blue with victory and our little pleasure doll behind me, barely holding on for dear life as she convulsed through her second orgasm of the night.
“Silas,” I breathed, the word catching in my throat.
The waves started deep in my center, but quickly exploded outward, my toes curling as every muscle rippled with release and a deep and primal satisfaction, and I could barely breathe, the entirety of the erotic scene driving my orgasm on and on and on until I was slumped back against Viola, my head leaning back to rest on her shoulder.
“Jesus Christ,” Silas said, a little desperately, as both of us girls gradually finished climaxing on top of him. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
Viola gave a tired little laugh from behind me.
Silas’s voice was rough and brooked no argument when he said, “Untie me right the fuck now.”
I should have said no. This was definitely me losing our little bet, but I couldn’t deny it any longer. Silas was what I wanted. Silas dominating me was what I wanted. And when he murmured, “That’s my good Molly,” when I slid off the bed and went to the bottom posts to unknot his feet, I felt a flush of pleasure that I would have given anything to feel all the time. A flush that told me that I was his, that I was taken care of, that when I was with him, I could relax and feel safe.
As I worked on the knot by Silas’s ankle, Castor came up to me. “Are you finished with Viola?” he asked quietly.
I glanced up to Silas. The look on his face told me that whatever was going to happen next was going to happen between him and me alone. “Yes,” I replied.
“Then I’m taking her, if she agrees. Can I trust you two to behave yourselves? I’d rather not commit perjury if I can help it, but…” He trailed off, his face hard as he looked at Viola’s naked form, which was currently curled into a ball of pale limbs and red hair. His erection bulged under the trousers that he hadn’t bother to button when he’d pulled them back up.
“I understand, believe me.”
He nodded curtly and walked over to Viola, where he gently swept the hair from her face. “Would you like to go to bed with me?” he asked.
She made a purring noise of assent, and he gathered her into his arms, and then they were gone. I turned my attention back to Silas; with one leg freed, I moved to the other, admiring the long, strong bands of muscle that made up his calves and thighs and stomach and chest.
His erection had not abated—if anything, it had grown harder, the head a dark purple, and the shaft so rigid that it didn’t lay flat against his stomach; instead it pulsed with every beat of his heart, the pre-cum beading at the tip betrayed exactly how aroused he was.
He didn’t say anything as I moved up to his right hand, and the lack of chatter from him made me nervous. Silas was a talker, a charmer, the kind of person you could count on to fill any awkward gaps in conversation with easy, polite chatter and an infectious laugh. But not right now. Right now, he watched me in silence, a silence that wasn’t stern or solemn necessarily, but a silence that was practically electrified with power.
Castor and I had tied the knots well, but we hadn’t made them very tight since we hadn’t wanted to wake Silas as we worked. But Silas’s thrashing and straining had yanked the silk ties fast, especially around his wrists. It took me a few minutes to pull apart the first one, and even longer for the second, and still he didn’t speak, his eyes pinned on me the entire time.
But the moment I finally pulled the last knot loose, he was on me, his hands on my throat and waist, and then I was on my back, his knees on either side of my shoulders, his large hand gripping my jaw and forcing my head to tilt back.
“I won’t violate your fucking contract,” he said, and I didn’t need to see to know that his other hand fisted his dick. “But you’re going to take this, every drop of it, for making me fuck someone else. For teasing me. For walking away on the ballroom floor tonight.”
Earlier, I would have fought him. I would have teased him or provoked him, but not now. I wanted to be under him, subsumed by him, humiliated by him. Everything about it felt so right and I would never feel this way again and oh my God…I would never feel this way again. How could I live like that? Without Silas?
I’d asked myself that question so many times in the last week, but now, with him clutching my jaw, ready to ejaculate all over me, I realized how terrible it all was. I belonged here, underneath him, covered in him, and I would be lost without this.