Twisted Game Novel – Ransom reaches down between my legs and finds my vulva with ease. “Are you wet for me, bad girl?” he murmurs. Slowly, he screws me with two fingers, not ramming them into me but taking his time, loosening me up. The heat keeps climbing, and I spread my legs wider, silently begging for more. “There you go,” Ransom murmurs, approval resonating in his deep voice. “So good.” My climax is building, and I’m so close to the edge, grinding my hips down to press my vulva against the mattress, wanting more. Then he’s gripping my thighs, spreading my legs roughly. When I look up, I realize we’re not alone in the room. Malice and Victor are there, watching. This is wrong. They shouldn’t be watching this. But I don’t tell them to go.
WILLOW “You don’t ever get to hide from us. We see all of you, angel. We know you. You’re ours.” He’s right on top of me now, his body between my legs, his hands braced on either side of my head. I can feel the hardness of his manhood, thick and bare, right at my entrance, and he punctuates that promise by driving inside me hard and fast. My back arches when he slams into me, and my moan feels like it’s almost ripped out of me. My whole body feels like it’s being burned alive, but it feels… good. It feels so good. Malice and Victor are still there, still watching, and they can see everything as Ransom screws me. Their eyes are hungry, and they look the way I feel. Desperate for more. I shiver and shake under Ransom, each thrust sending me closer and closer to my climax. I can feel it, threatening to drag me under, and I don’t fight it. I give in to the tide of pleasure that’s growing, moaning Ransom’s name, clutching at him as he screws me harder, his body slamming into mine. My climax is right there, so close I can taste it, and— I jerk awake, breathing hard.
My heart is pounding, and the same heat I was dreaming about pulses through my entire body. It burns between my legs especially, making my vulva throb, and I realize with a rush of embarrassment that I’m on the verge of coming. I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to get my thoughts together and get ahold of myself. I’ve had sexual dreams before, but never any that intense. And never about a man—or rather, men—that I know. I’m still so turned on from it, as if every atom in my body is alive and charged with need. My vulva clenches over and over, echoing the almost frantic beating of my heart, and I take deep breaths, trying to shake it off. But memories of the dream cling to my mind like burrs, flashes of images and sensations making it impossible to tame the arousal flooding my limbs.
At this point, it wouldn’t take much to push myself that last bit over the edge, and I slowly start to slide one hand down under the covers, reaching for the ache between my legs. I’m desperate to relieve some of this tension, to get it out of my system, but before I can touch myself, Ransom’s sleep heavy voice rumbles from behind me. “Someone’s being naughty.” I freeze, my eyes flaring wide. I’m suddenly more aware than ever that he’s right behind me, his body pressed up against mine. I can feel the heat from his muscled frame blazing against my back, and his breath ghosts over my neck as he scoots even closer. “What were you dreaming about?” Ransom murmurs, his nose dipping into the hollow between my neck and shoulder. “I…” My cheeks flame, and the words stick in my throat. I have no idea how to say, I was dreaming about you screwing me while your brothers watched.
That’s just… weird. Or it should be. But then I remember how Vic and I watched Malice screw that girl, and it didn’t seem to faze him at all. So maybe they really are that close. My head is spinning with thoughts, going around and around in circles. Behind me, Ransom chuckles, clearly not bothered that I haven’t answered him yet. “It’s kind of cute that you’re feeling all shy about it now,” he says. “It must have been some dream. Was it about me?” I lick my lips, unable to stop myself from nodding. “Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere,” he teases. “Was it just about me?” For a split second, I think about lying and saying it was. Somehow, that feels less terrifying than admitting the truth, but before I can stop it, my honest reply slips out. “No. Not just you.” Ransom makes a noise in his throat. “Hmm, I see. Malice was there, I’m guessing.
There’s all that tension between you two, even though he tries to deny it.” In my head, I can hear Ransom’s words from last night, telling Malice to just admit that he wants me. It makes my heart pound even harder, real-life memories of the smooching we shared mixing with memories from the dream. That does nothing to cool down the arousal that’s still curling in my belly, and my thighs clench. “Was Vic there too?” Ransom asks curiously, and I flush deeply as I nod again. There’s a moment where I wonder if he’s going to be upset that I was dreaming about his brothers too, but then he groans, sounding almost tortured. “Pretty girl. You’re making it hard to keep my hands to myself.” My stomach flips over at that, and when I speak, my voice comes out soft and a little unsure. But I want to know. “Why are you keeping your hands to yourself?” I ask.
“Why are any of you keeping your hands off me? You could take what you wanted from me at any time. We all know that.” I snort, the sound tinged with bitterness. “What do you mean by that?” There’s a frown in his voice. “I mean, apparently I’m some kind of trophy at this point. The only men who have ever wanted me just wanted me for my stupid hymen. Nikolai, Colin, Carl. All of them just wanted my purity, and they were perfectly happy to take it by force if they had to. Carlwas only willing to keep my secret if I gave him copulation in exchange.” “Okay.” Ransom’s tone turns hard. “I know you aren’t comparing me to your ex-boss, of all people. That’s an insult. That man was human scum.” I open my mouth to tell him that wasn’t what I meant, but he keeps talking. “That’s not how I roll, pretty girl. I’ve never taken a woman by force, and I never will.” His voice changes, turning low and teasing, the sound of it practically snaking up my spine and making me shiver as he adds, “I wouldn’t screw with you unless you wanted it. But I bet I could have you begging for me in minutes.”
I roll over a little in the bed, my heart beating so hard it feels like it’s going to break through my rib cage and flop out onto the mattress. I can’t deny that I’m afraid. I’m scared of what he’s saying, but the promise in his voice calls to me too. He means what he says, and the certainty that he could make me beg for him sends a shiver of desire through me that’s too strong to ignore. Ransom can see my face now, and his eyes search mine hungrily. He must like what he finds in their depths, because he smiles at me, one corner of his lips lifting crookedly. “Close your eyes,” he murmurs, and his voice almost seems to caress me when he says it. My brows draw together, my heart lurching with nerves. “But you said—” He chuckles. “I’m not gonna screw with you, angel. I’m just gonna help you out. Okay?” “Okay.” “Then close your eyes.” Exhaling a soft breath, I let my eyelids fall closed. Ransom puts a gentle hand on my shoulder, rolling me onto my back.
“Think about what you were dreaming of,” he whispers. I do what he says, and it’s not hard. All those images are still right there, close to the surface. I think about the rough pads of Ransom’s fingers and how they found my most sensitive places so easily. As if my dream is manifesting itself in real life, a hand snakes down into my sleep pants, and I hiss out a breath at the visceral sensation. At first, he just rubs me through my panties, dragging the cotton against the hard nub of my vulva. It feels good, but it’s not enough to come even close to sating the need inside me. If anything, it just makes the fire burn hotter, and I squirm against him, breathing hard. “Shh,” Ransom murmurs, his voice a little rougher than it was before.
“Keep thinking about it. Think about what I was doing to you. I’m definitely thinking about all the things I could do to you right now.” I bite down hard on my lip, my legs spreading a bit wider as if that will tempt him into giving me what I want. But he’s clearly got more self-control than I do. He keeps rubbing me through my panties, working me up slowly and deliberately until the need inside me hits a kind of desperation that makes me whine and writhe on the bed.