The bed dips as Asch sits down next to her, and he reaches down. I can feel his hand near my cock as he finds her clit and starts to rub it. The next time Pandora lifts her head, I can see Asch nibbling and nipping along her throat.
She sits up entirely and turns her head to kiss Asch.
I hope he tastes his own cum, I think bitterly, but it’s hard to focus on the anger when Pandora’s cunt is fluttering around me, and it’s so much heat, so much pressure, and my two favorite people in the world are right here?—
I cry out as my orgasm slams into me. My hips buck up, and for a few seconds I see and hear nothing. The world has narrowed down to this pleasure, this blinding ecstasy.
Pandora drags her nails down my chest, making sure to put pressure on the healing cut she’d left what feels like an eternity ago. Even that feels amazing, a sharp contrast that only heightens all the sensations.
She lets out a loud, wailing moan herself, and her cunt ripples and drags out my own orgasm. I sob through it all.
I don’t know how long things go on, but eventually, Pandora pulls off me. She pulls her panties and jeans back on. I hear my own breath ringing in my ears, and Pandora is panting equally hard. She kisses Asch again, then stretches out next to me to kiss my jaw tenderly.
I turn to kiss her back, to pull her closer to me—only for the cuffs and the rope to stop me.
The reality of the situation slams back into me.
“Untie me,” I growl. “You had your fun.”
Pandora smirks at me. “So did you.” She reaches down to fondle my spent cock. “You really got off on getting your face fucked, Blaze.”
“I think it had more to do with your sloppy cunt,” I counter. “Let go of me now.”
Pandora pouts and shakes her head. “Not until you answer a simple question for me.” She glances at Asch, then back to me. “Who do the Bouchards sell all the women to?”
My eyes widen.
She cracked the drive. She must have. There’s no other way she could know about that.
“You must have hit your head a few too many times,” I say with faux confidence. “Seeing conspiracies where none exist.”
Pandora’s expression darkens, and she sits up to loom over me. “Tell me, Blaze. What did you do with Samantha? Where did Zayden drop her off?” She reaches for her bright prink sweater. She must have taken it off while planning all this. Pandora pulls something out of the pocket.
A knife.
She presses the blade against my throat. “Who murdered Rachel? You have to know!”
Rachel?
That’s the same person River had been looking for.
I swallow and stay still, conscious of the very sharp blade pushed up against my skin. “Pandora… I’m not… I don’t know?—”
“Stop lying!” Pandora shouts. “I saw all the videos! The photos of the girls! Who do you take them to?”
“What are you talking about?” Asch asks. He’s tucked his cock away, and he’s standing several paces behind Pandora. “What girls?”
Pandora sits up and points the knife at Asch. “Are you playing innocent? You’re telling me you don’t know what the Bouchards do? Some bodyguardyouare.” She starts giggling. “Uncle Slayer and I noticed the pattern, a few girls disappearing every year. Not important ones. Not people anyone would miss. The ones who would naturally drop out, or weren’t full students. The ones whose parents think their daughters are delinquents or worthless or should just fucking get married already because what other point is there to a woman, right?”
I pull on the rope tying the cuffs to the bed and glance at Asch. “Asch! Untie me!”
“I know they deal in sex, but they don’t sell women,” Asch says, ignoring me, but he sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than Pandora. “You’d probably find them working for the clubs in New Valence.”
“Asch!” I hiss. “She’s fucking cr… Look, I’m sorry I called you my subordinate. Just get me out of here before she fucking murders me!”
Pandora’s head whips in my direction. Her eyes are wild, her grin stretched all the way up her cheeks. “Murder you? But Blaze, torture is more fun. You should have seen what I did to Zayden. He was still alive when I sawed off his first leg.” She lowers the knife to my chest and draws a thin line parallel to the cut she’d given me a week ago. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Blaze. But maybe I can open up your chest. Take a look at your beatingheart. Do you think it would fit in my chest? To fill the empty space I have there.”
I have no fucking clue what she’s talking about, but my chest rises and falls unevenly. I try to stay calm. I try not to imagine how Zayden would have looked.
