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The apex of my thighs pulse for the first time in I don’t know how long. Years, for sure.
Move. Keep walking. Circle them, be on your way.
Any minute now, one of them will look up and see me standing there at the edge of the clearing.
But they're too absorbed in their orgy to know I exist. I keep watching. They keep fucking. Tits and asses bounce, women scream in pleasure, demanding more.
I flush, envy flying through my bones. I've never had that with another person—or in their case, several people. Desire. Lust. I've never wanted more. Whenever someone was screwing me, I've only ever wished for it to stop, imagining I was elsewhere, anywhere but there, pinned, trapped.
Sex was my nightmare; for them, it's a dream.
"Like that, do you?”
Oh shit.
I know that voice.
5
MARIUS
Of all the places I could have expected to see Sarah next, I would never have thought it to behere.
The Heritage is a rather casual club; it doesn’t come with many requirements for us legacies. The members we bring into it have to show up weekly, but we don’t. That said, it’s a hell of a lot of fun, so most of us tend to show up.
There’s a larger, more organized meeting requiring an RSVP once a month at a minimum—most of the time on Sundays.
Violet and Rhys planned their pool party as a pre-game type of lunch for us Heritage kids. Right after, we headed right here, nicely buzzed, eager to start playing.
I wasn’t in the mood, but I came all the same, because I’m one of the organizers. I was voluntold by my father, and what Eriks Goltz dictates is law. It’s not quite fair, but in his rigid mind, Magnus is used to responsibility as the president of the Heirs of Raventhorn, Markus knows how to play well with others since he’s in a hockey team, but me? I’m a Shark. Swimming is a one-man show. The Shark House doesn’t have a clear hierarchy like my brother’s dorm, so there’s nothing for me to top. Which means that our father piles random responsibilities on me, expecting me to excel.
I can’t complain. At least I get to empty my balls at club gatherings.
When the weather is shit, the gatherings are always indoors, but this week's nice and warm, but not too warm to not have fun out of doors. So of course the parents—the middle-aged members—reserved the pool area. The grandparents took the lake, which didn't leave us much choice.None of us want to see our family members' flabby tits and asses as we try to have fun, so we picked the woods.
It's not the first time we've been in this situation. We've made that clearing nice and comfortable, with timber furnishings we had the staff bring out of storage. It's cozy.
I had to make a last-minute run back to the club to pick up some more supplies in a golf cart—lube and wine mostly—hence why I'm late to the party, and entering it from the Heritage’s side rather than from the woods.
Seeing Sarah here is nothing short of prophetic, considering she was the woman I was thinking about, the cunt I wanted to feel around my cock.
Whatisshe doing here? She's certainly not a club legacy, and she hasn't been invited as a petal. I checked earlier today after the left the party.
I can't wrap my head around it. Part of me is wondering if I'm dreaming her up. But no. In one of my dreams, she would certainly not be wearing that terrible fucking dress.
"Like that, do you?”
She jumps at the sound of my voice, completely taken aback.
I catch the flush on her usually pale cheeks and grin.
Oh, yeah. She likes it. A lot.
I see it in the heat of her wide eyes, the arch of her gaping mouth, the bright flush taking over most of her face, and the way those fantastic tits rise and fall under that poor excuse for a dress, now sadly bone dry.
Her highness belongs right here with the rest of us.Who would have thought? Certainly not I. If I had to name one person in our extended circle of friends more rigid than Damian, I would have picked her.
I would have bet my favorite car that she would be outraged if she knew what the rest of us are up to behind closed doors. And I would have lost the Escalade, which would have been a fucking tragedy.
