Free Dangerously Big by Cleo Peitsche

tight on my throat, and it’s so rough, so dangerous. This isn’t something I’ve played with before, but I trust him.
    I’m at the limit of what I can take. All three men are pounding away furiously, taking their pleasure in my body.
    Someone—probably Hawthorne—slides a hand over my clit. His knowing fingers work my nub just enough to keep me suspended on the edge, and I’m helpless.  
    They fuck me harder, rougher. Romeo pinches my sore nipples, the undersides of my breasts.  
    Slade’s hand tightens on my neck, and everything turns more vivid.  
    Hawthorne swells an extra few degrees. When he comes, I feel like my flesh is being ripped by a hot poker, but he digs his fingers into my hips to keep me immobile until he’s done with me.
    It takes a very, very long time for him to finish.
    Sweat runs down Romeo’s face. He kneels up and rips off the condom. His cock is purplish, swollen. It’s gorgeous and veiny and perfect.
    There’s a wild look in his eyes as he stares down at me, his chest heaving.
    If he tries to stick that cock back inside me, I’ll probably have the hardest orgasm of my life. My pussy will probably choke his huge tool.
    But he moves up toward my face, and he aims himself at me.  
    Slade isn’t finished yet, but when he does spurt hot come down my throat, he gets a few seconds to enjoy it, then Romeo is shouldering him out of the way.
    He puts just part of the fat mushroom head of his cock between my lips. He’s so thick that it’s uncomfortable to hold him there; a bit lower would be a lot easier on my jaw. I bet it would feel better for him, too, if I had the whole head in my mouth.
    “Suck me,” he rasps. He jerks his fist up and down his thick shaft. The movement shakes his entire body, shakes mine, too.
    As I suck, I think of the little bottle I brought from my bedroom, and how it’s a shame I won’t ever get to use it, a shame I’ll never have the pleasure of wrapping my lips around the base of Romeo’s oversized cock.
    Deeper he goes, but his fist stays glued to the bottom of his shaft, keeping him from accidentally choking me.
    His entire body is straining, and his loud, masculine growls fill the room.
    He’s really loud, and I love it.
    “Yeah, suck me like that,” he groans. The words are barely coherent.  
    Slade shoves three fingers into my pussy.  
    Hawthorne rubs my clit.  
    I come so fucking hard, my body shaking, my breasts bouncing, and Romeo shoots a fire hose of salty semen into my mouth.  
    My eyes close as I swallow. This moment. I want to remember everything: the feel of the hard bodies pressed up against me, the smell of male sweat and female arousal, the sound of Romeo’s grunts and of Slade’s fingers banging wetly into my quivering pussy. And the magic of Hawthorne’s hands.
    I’ll carry it with me as long as I live.

Chapter 10

    “I think I’d prefer to stay in a hotel tonight,” I say as I pretend to be busy fixing my skirt.  
    I can’t make eye contact with Romeo. Last night was the most amazing of my life, and I know he’s probably wondering what he did wrong.
    The truth is that I need to plot out my next move, and I won’t be able to think straight if I’m in his bed, in his arms.
    “Not a problem,” Romeo says. “Would you like to stay here?”
    I nod. To Hawthorne, I say, “My car key, please.”
    He considers me, and I recognize that expression. He’s judging me.  
    Sometimes I feel he can look into my soul, but it’s like he only sees the dark places, the ugliness. How can I blame him? It’s the only part of myself that I’ve ever revealed.
    “I don’t have it,” he says. This gets a slow look from Slade, so I know Hawthorne is full of crap. He spent one night dealing with my insane life and now he can’t stop lying.
    A laugh escapes my throat. Slade’s eyes narrow.
    “Your car and key will be at the office tomorrow,” Hawthorne says easily. “There’s no point running around and dealing with that tonight,