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He pulls out and lowers his hands to her mouth, shoving his fingers into it. “Taste that, Ash? Only a whore gets this turned on from sucking dick.”
She blinks, her wet lashes clumping together, and her throat works as she tries to suck on his fingers.
Kashton stands by them, his phone in one hand while he records it. She arches her back, once more trying to fight the tight position we’ve got her tied in.
He pulls his fingers out and a line of fresh drool covers her face before he slaps it again. “Make me come, baby girl,” he orders, guiding his hard cock back into her mouth. “Make me come down your throat like the good whore we know you to be.”
He fucks her face, ignoring every whimper, cry, and moan that manages to escape her full mouth while I play with her ass and the plug. Her cunt looks so pretty as it glistens from my cum and her arousal. It’s begging for me to fuck it. But not yet. I’m going to make her wait.
It doesn’t take him long before he’s holding his length down her throat and coming as well. When he pulls out, he’s gasping for breath, and she sobs, her body trembling as we start to untie my good little whore.
TWENTY-EIGHT
ASHTYN
Ihaven’t left Saint’s bed in three days. After we returned from our bike ride, he fucked my ass before he had me ride his face. I sobbed when I finally got to come. It was so euphoric that I swear I lost my vision. I hate but also love when he makes me wait to get off.
It’s torture at its finest.
As much as I love being with Saint, I’m losing myself. I can feel a part of me dying each day. My old life is becoming more of a memory than a reality.
I need to feel like me again. So I got up, showered, dressed, and put a little bit of makeup on. I wandered down to the cafeteria instead of waiting for Jessie to bring me food. Saint’s gone today at the house of Lords. He said he had a meeting he couldn’t miss.
A part of me wanted him to make the decision for me, tie me up, and leave me waiting. When he didn’t, I realized just how pathetic I’ve become. My mother’s words still haunt me in her death.
He won’t love you, Ashtyn.No matter what I do or what I give him, this is just temporary. He’ll get tired of me and eventually toss me to the side. Carnage will swallow me up. I know that he told me he loved me, but he also told me he’d never hurt me. The brand on my skin proves differently. I understand why he did it, but it doesn’t change how it got there.
Plus, all Lords are expected to reproduce, even the Spade brothers. I’m no longer alive, just existing. I can’t give him the family he must have since the Lords assume I’m dead.
It’s something I must come to accept.
Exiting the cafeteria, I get into the elevator. I ride it up in silence, watching the floors pass until it comes to a stop and opens. I step off and stop when I hear “M.I.N.E.” by Five Finger Death Punch filling the hallway.
Slowly stepping over to a cracked door, I stop when curiosity gets the best of me. Haidyn and Kashton usually stay at the house of Lords, so it’s just me and Saint here. I push it open and see a man working out in a room resembling a small gym. He wears black basketball shorts and a white muscle T-shirt with the sleeves missing and half the sides cut out. He’s doing pull-ups on a bar with his knees bent and ankles crossed.
I lean against the doorframe, watching with wandering eyes. It’s Haidyn. His dark hair is wet from sweat and the T-shirt sticks to his back as well. His arms bulge as he grunts over the music, pulling himself up over and over at a quick pace.
He does it several more times, then straightens his legs before dropping to his feet. He reaches up and grips the back of the T-shirt, rips it over the top of his head, and uses it to wipe his face off before throwing it to the side.
He turns, and his blue eyes meet mine, paralyzing me where I stand. But it’s not because he caught me staring. It’s because, without his T-shirt, I got a view of his back. He stalks over to me, and my wide eyes lift to meet his when he stands in front of me.
“What are you doing, Ash?” he demands.
I’m shaking and breathing heavily, my heart hammering in my chest. He reaches out, grips my arm, and yanks me into the room. Slamming the door shut, he shoves my back into it. I don’t even fight him when he grips my neck with his large hand and forces my head back against the door as he lowers his face to mine. “Ashtyn?” he barks over the song.
“It…it was you.” I manage to say even though I’m having trouble breathing.
His eyes harden on mine, and he tightens his hand, growling, “Baby girl…”
“They punished you…because of me.” I’m not sure if he understands what I’m trying to say because even I couldn’t understand my mumbled words since he’s cut off my air. Tears sting my eyes, and his face blurs.
Letting go of my throat, he steps away, and I blink, letting the tears fall to clear my vision while coughing. He gives me his back, and I step forward. “I don’t understand,” I say, roughly licking my lips. “You texted Saint.” He walks away, and I see the fine lines of the whip all over his muscular skin. It’s healing and faded, but they’re still visible.
Haidyn was the man I saw hanging in the room in the basement when Saint’s father made me see my mom’s therapist. “You…” My lips tremble. “You were still hanging.” I take another step toward him when he picks his cell up and turns off the music. I can hear my heavy breathing fill the room now. “How did you text Saint…?”
He says nothing. He picks up a barbell and sits down on a bench. He places his elbow on his knee and starts working out again. “Haidyn—”
“Leave, Ash. I’m busy.” He interrupts me flatly.
