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I blush at the name, liking how it sounds far too much. “Night,” I whisper.
Stone walks out quietly and I decide to get out of bed to do my nighttime routine. I may not be exhausted but laying in bed until I pass out is as good an activity as any.
I take a long hot shower, happy that everything south of the border is fully healed and the stitches have long since dissolved. I wash and conditioner my hair before shaving my entire body. I’ve never liked the feeling of hair prickles on me and not being able to shave my vajayjay while it was healing made me feel itchy in the worst way.
Whatever genetics I’m made of must include someone with dark attributes on one side because my skin may be pale, but my head hairandbody hair are thick and dark brown. I’ve always hated how it looks and kids in school picked on me as early as 6th grade for my long, dark leg hair whenever I wore dresses or shorts. I started shaving as soon as I could steal my first razor from my foster mom. It’s been a daily task ever since.
I get out of the shower, wrap myself in a towel and brush my teeth before towel drying my hair. I go without a bra or panties as I pull on a soft pair of short sleep shorts and a thin tank top. It’s the beginning of October and the men keep the house at a good, comfortable temperature but it runs hot at night. Or maybe it’s just me being so full of wild hormones in this house.
I get into bed, my mind replaying today’s events on a loop. I try to make them stop, but I can't. I’m restless with anxiety but eventually, I must pass out, because soon enough, I’m being jolted awake by a door slamming. The walls here are thick and I can never make out what anyone is saying beyond vague voices and muffled sounds.
My ears instantly perk up and my heart begins to pound when I hear a woman’s loud laughter fill the living room.What the fuck?It could be anyone. A friend. A sister or cousin. Or a guy friend who brought his girlfriend maybe.
But the guys said no one comes here, especially women.
They said I was special.
Lies, lies, lies,my head chants.
I lay in bed, willing my ears to hear everything that I can. The muffled voices, clearly a man and a woman don’t stop or move. They don’t go upstairs and my pathetic heart holds onto hope that whatever is happening, is innocent.
But what if Maddox or Gage brought someone home? I know we’re new, and we never said we’re exclusive. Maybe we aren’t. I am dating both of them for fucks sake. How can I expect them to share me if they can’t go out and have other women as well?
Oh my god. The thought makes my stomach clench and I fight the urge to throw up. I don’t want to share them. If I’m theirs, they’re mine.
Mine.
Shaking my head, I try to ignore the sounds coming from outside of my door. Male and female laughter is accompanied bythudsandbangs,like they are dropping things or bumping into furniture.
Go to sleep, ignore them, it’s not your business.
I close my eyes, breathing deeply through the anxiety that is clawing at my throat, my skin. I start to count in Spanish, soothing my chaotic thoughts.
But then, I hear it.
A moan.
Female. Loud.
Not mine.
9 Crimes-Damien Rice
I hear it again.
And before I know what I’m doing, I’m flying out of bed and practically sprinting to the door. I force myself to calm down and prepare myself for whatever I might see. We’re new. It’s all new. If one of them is with another woman, it will be fine. I don’t even care about them that much. It’s better to find out now if they are cheaters.
Lies. You care about them. A lot.
Fuck. I do. I really do.
I open the door and tiptoe out into the dark great room. It’s dimly lit by the light flowing into the living room from the kitchen. I've learned that the automatic light sensors only work when a button is pressed, activating that mode. If its not on, the house operates on switches like any normal home.
At first, I don’t see anything or anyone, until another laugh tinkles into the silent space. My eyes dart over to the couch. I can’t see anything because the back of it faces the hallway that leads to my room. I pad further into the room, trying to stay as quiet as I can. Movement from the couch makes me pause, my eyes adjusting to the scene in front of me. That’s when I realize what I just walked into.
I have a front-row seat of Nyxon and a woman. He’s fully dressed, she’s fully naked. She’s on all fours, her ass in the air as he eats her out from behind, one of his hands wrapped around the back of her neck, pushing her face into the sofa. Her pussy is on full display for me at this angle but I’m not looking at it. No, I’m looking at him, and he’s looking at me.
My stomach drops to the floor as an evil smirk takes over his face. Keeping his eyes on me, his tongue lashes out, licking her from clit to ass, making her cry out. He repeats the process, again and again, until she’s shaking. In this position, not a damn thing on her is hidden. Her entire pussy and ass are on display for him and he’s lapping it up, literally.
