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Rafe was not my childhood best friend, my first crush, my teenage love. Not anymore. He was just a man who I was trying to reconcile with a memory. But. It. Wasn’t. Him.

And it was like running at a sprint face first into a brick wall over and over again hoping for more and then having him pull away again and again. And then what he’d tried back there in the room? Trying to give me a check like I was the whore he accused me of being. I shook my head in disgust even at the memory.

He was just like his father. Throw money at the problem instead of dealing with it. He didn’t like the thought of sharing me with other men, so he’d just buy me for himself or to pay off his conscience or whatever the fuck that was about.

Fuck that.

No. It was time to get back to why I’d come here in the first place. I wouldn’t be beholden to anyone but myself.

I could do this all on my own.

Rafe had finally made it to the ballroom, and an Elder led him to a chair set along the center of the wall. Courtside seats. The chair was huge, wing-backed, almost like a throne. Of course it was, I smirked bitterly.

These men thought they were kings and we were just the chattel, the consorts in their harem to please them. Nothing really ever changed from ancient times to today.

In the corner, a string quartet played. Soft, sensuous music. The cellist leaned long on his bow and the note echoed hauntingly throughout the room.

And I used what power had been given to women throughout time. The power my mother had used when she must’ve felt like she had no other power.

I lifted my hands, and I began to sway with the low music. It was in three-fourths time, a sort of waltz in a minor key. Back and forth my hips swayed, and I imagined what I would paint afterwards.

Chaos colors, browns sung through with bright yellows and pinks and blood red fighting for the light. Defying gravity even as hands nearby began to reach for me.

First a rough grasp on my breast. Then hands grasping my ass.

In my head, I was singing colors with the violin and painting shadows with the cello.

A man’s hand reached between my legs.

I stood unmoving until other men urged my legs apart, destabilizing me until I stepped wider, allowing more access to the man who now shoved a probing finger to feel around the outside of my dry cunt.

“Somebody hand me some lube. She’s dry as the Mojave.”

Chuckles from the men around me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rafe shoot up from his throne. I glared him down. He didn’t look away once we’d locked eyes.

His face was on fire with fury and possessiveness.

I arched an eyebrow at him, stepping even wider to allow the men pouring lube on their fingers easier access.

The bright spots of color at the height of Rafe’s cheeks were so far beyond red they were almost purple.

Someone below, a finger drenched with lube, finally breached my cunt, shoving inside. My mouth dropped open at the shock of it, and Rafe saw. He took a step forward, but I warned him with my glance to stay back.

Instead, I let him see, pushing one man back out of the way so Rafe had a full unobstructed view of me. All it took was imagining it was Rafe’s hand below and the natural moisture that had so far been absent sprung up like a wellspring.

A grunt from below indicated someone’s pleasure at my response, but I ignored them. I only had eyes for Rafe.

And then a wet, lubed up finger probed my ass at the same time I was being finger-fucked. Other hands grasped my breasts, and then someone was sucking on my nipple while still others grasped the flesh at my waist.

I looked at Rafe. He looked like a bull ready to explode.

But I also didn’t miss the bulge in the front of his suit pants.

Eyes wet with emotion, a shudder of pleasure wracked my body. Tears streamed down my cheeks as the tremors continued.

“Fuck this one’s hot. She’s coming so hard on my hand, she’s squeezing me like a fucking vise.”

“Just wait till I get my cock in this tight little ass of hers. You think that cunt’s squeezing you tight, you should feel back here.”

One finger retreated from my backside only for two more, it felt like two different men, trying to push in my anus afterwards.

I yelped, pushed forward by the force of their intrusion.

“Fuck this, I want to feel her on my dick. Get the fuck out of my way.”

Behind me, I heard the tell-tale sound of a zipper being yanked down.

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