“Husband…evil. You, ours. Join.” He gestured at the three of them. “Speak for us. Be ours. Teach French.” He chuckled. “My French bad.”
“It really is terrible,” she replied, her voice caught as barely more than a whisper.
“Safe.” Fritz ran a hand over her cheek, before slipping it into her hair. He placed his forehead to hers. “Marguerite safe.”
Safe. Free. Far away.
She nodded once again, however much she trembled. “Join. Yes…”
Oskar went back to playing with her breasts. He ran his tongue over the hard bud of her nipple and groaned. She gasped in response, her body reacting to the sensations, sending a sharp thrill of pleasure arching through her. “Ich glaube, ich bin verliebt.”
“Ich auch,” Fritz whispered as he crept his face closer to hers. “Marguerite…stole hearts.”
She chuckled. “Now you’re lying.”
He shrugged a shoulder. And then he kissed her. Tomaz was fiery and passionate. Oskar was sweet and smooth. And Fritz was like kissing a playful imp. He was teasing, always breaking away just when she wanted more to watch her before descending again. He nipped at her lips mischievously, chuckling at the noises she made.
Tomaz was stroking her thighs slowly before running a hand over her stomach, splaying along her abdomen. It seemed he didn’t want to startle her. She appreciated that. But when one of Tomaz’s hands left her knee to slip between her legs, she gasped and broke away from Friz to watch Tomaz.
He smiled down at her reassuringly. “Gentle.”
Then he touched her. His hand stroked over that part of her body that no one had ever touched, save her. She could not look away. Fritz kissed her cheek, his free hand stroking her body. Oskar sat back as well, and she noticed him undo his own trousers to pleasure himself.
“Gentle,” she repeated, her heart once more pounding in her ears.
Tomaz’s fingers worked over her, slowly, carefully, tenderly. Caressing her, toying with her, sending pangs of pleasure arching up through her spine. His dark eyes stayed trained on hers, as if watching for any sign of resistance.
If she screamed, they would stop. She was certain of it. This deal was hers to make, not theirs. This was not rape. And for that, she was immensely relieved. Perhaps these men could be my friends…perhaps they could be my lovers. Father had many women. Why might I not have many men? Is that not only fair?
She reached for Fritz’s hand, and he took it eagerly, squeezing it tightly.
“Good, Marguerite. Good, yes,” he urged her, kissing her cheek. “Safe.”
Tomaz shifted, leaning forward, lowering his body between her legs. Oskar had to move, shuffling to kneel by her head. She could see him in the corner of her eye, stroking himself, and knew that tonight would not begin and end with the man over her.
Tomaz kissed her then, softer than the first time, but not by much. She surrendered to him. She surrendered to this.
Perhaps this will even feel good. It has so far.
He parted from her to prop himself over her body, and she felt him there at her entrance.
It was time.
Spreading her knees wide for him, she braced herself.
Two dark claws split through Tomaz’s eyes from the back like meat on a skewer. Two jagged, black points jutted from the sockets.
Blood poured onto her face.
Marguerite screamed.