The Eye Ch. 01

Darla tried to pretend no one was touching her, tried to pretend this was all just a bad dream and that she'd wake from it soon. Then the blond's tongue flicked at her nipple, and Darla gasped at the sensation.

Darla had followed all the rules, even those rules that were not really articulated but were rumored to be rules. She'd never been with a man. Not to kiss, and certainly not to let one touch her the way these men were. No dating—that was the rule. If she'd had a mate chosen then that would be different, but otherwise she was an innocent. She had touched herself once, in the bathroom where they eye couldn't see, but she'd quite frankly felt silly and hadn't tried the experiment again. Most nights she was too tired, too worried and too used to following their rules to think about it.

The blond's mouth was now over her nipple, suckling, and she found herself writhing in her bonds as heat flooded her body. Who ever knew that such simple touches could make her feel so . . . frantic? Dark-hair lapped at her other nipple and a twisting sensation stabbed at her from her breasts down between her legs. The sensations—shocking, riveting, and oh God, sooo good.

And the men knew it. The blond shot her a grin as his hand began to drift slowly towards her legs. Darla found herself wavering between panting and holding her breath. The men were both watching her now, watching her to see what she liked and then doing more of that. It confused her—why keep her tied up if they were going to try to pleasure her?

Then the blond lightly brushed his fingers against her clitoris. She bucked as a stab of sensation wracked her. She held her breath as he brushed it again, his fingers sliding along her folds—folds which were, inexplicably, moist. Now both men were smiling, and the dark-haired one moved out of her vision, then Darla felt a tongue licking slowly along her ankle. He was licking her like she was some kind of fabulous dessert that mustn't be rushed. Meanwhile the blond slid a finger into her sheath, moving it around in the tight space. Darla felt herself begin to pant.

The dark-haired man was unhurriedly making his way with his mouth up her leg, and when he reached her knees, he pulled back as the blond untied her legs then looked at her meaningfully and set her foot on the table, her knee bent. He pulled her knee outward, baring that hungry part of her, and then waited to see if she stayed where he'd put her.

Darla understood that they wanted her to stay where he'd arranged her, and figured if she didn't she'd be tied again. It was better, far better, not to be tied, so she left her leg where he'd put it. He smiled at her and went to do the same thing to her other leg.

Now the dark-haired man pressed her knees wide, opening herself to him in a way that would be embarrassing if she wasn't so caught up in the roiling pleasurable feelings that were, right now, the most important thing. He slowly worked his way to her core and that first lick against her throbbing clitoris made her gasp and jump. He stabbed his tongue against it again, and again she hissed in her breath, unaware until now that feelings like this existed. The blond worked along with the other man, using his fingers and mouth on her breasts as she was laved between her legs. Something was happening to her—something that made her wonder if she'd simply fly apart, a tightening in her core, pulling tighter and stronger until she suddenly exploded in her very first orgasm. Her hips pushed against his working mouth and her whole body shuddered, shuddered until, shockingly, it began to wind up again.

Now she forgot she was supposed to be quiet and said, "Stop! I can't—" But the man ignored her as he ruthlessly slid two fingers inside of her as he again stabbed at her clitoris with his tongue. She cried out as her body tightened again and the blond covered her mouth with his own, kissing her and muting her cries. He slid his mouth to her neck, her hair obscuring his face, and said, "No words or you'll be punished. Understand? We're not allowed to talk."

Darla could hardly focus on what he'd said but understanding dawned as the slap of realization hit her—she'd been watched all this time. She couldn't decide what to feel about that. Whoever had set this up hadn't given her a lot of choice, and the men, at least, were pleased that she had responded. And even if she hadn't wanted to respond, she wasn't sure she could have stopped it.

And what about the men? She had been innocent but not stupid. She knew that this sexual act had been completely one sided and expected the men to demand something from her. So when they untied her and handed her her pants she put them on in rather a daze. They gave her the t-shirt they'd cut off her and she put it on, holding it in the front to keep it together.

She was exhausted.

The men sat on the table and waited, the dark-haired man surreptitiously rubbing his erection. The blond moved away from him as if he didn't want to be tainted with whatever he was doing. More rules, maybe. But if no one could talk how would she ever learn the rules?

Within five minutes people came to the door—three of them, and Darla and the two men were led away down the rather generic hallways until she was back in the room she'd been led to when she arrived. She got several rather appraising looks but Dean wasn't there and she found the bed he'd shown her to and crawled inside, pulling the covers to her neck. She was so tired she fell asleep before she could even question what would happen to her next.