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SARAH
I’m exhausted all of a sudden. Marius is exhausting. Between the sex, and the domineering shit, and the shopping, and then more sex, and the drowning, and the double fucking while bound to a bar…I’ve had aday. It’s all happened in the last twenty-four hours so it counts like one.
“Hey!” Violet chirps from the kitchen. “How’s Liliya?”
I blink. I can’t remember telling her who we were seeing today. Did Marius mention it or did the rumor mill work that fast?
“Amazing,” I call back without making my way to her. “But I’m seriously beat. I’m gonna crash if you don’t mind. I don’t want to be rude—”
“It’s your home, too, sweet. Crash if you feel like it.”
It really isn’t, but I’m tired of arguing that point.
Actually, I’ve stopped arguing about a lot of things. Is it Marius’s strategy, to fuck me into compliance? Because annoying as it is, it’s working.
“I’ll catch you tomorrow!” I call, dragging my feet up the stairs, along with the fourteen bags full of clothes, to avoid a second trip.
It’s pretty early. While too tired to socialize, I decide to spend a bit of time studying for finals instead of heading right to sleep. Then, for the first time in the weeks since I’ve moved in this place, I draw myself a bubble bath.
I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve had one of those. Years, for sure. I sink into the warm water and let it soothe my aching muscles. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to walk without remembering everything the guys did to me with every step.
I flush, bringing my hand between my legs to answer my sudden growing need. My muscles might recover, but my mind is never going to forget this morning.
And crave it.
Marius is turning me into a real slut. A sex addict. But it doesn’t make me feel dirty and helpless and disgusted the way it did when everyone else was demanding I use my body to please them. He doesn’t do it to me because he thinks I’m lesser. Marius and the rest of the guys treat women from their own background exactly the same way. Violet is as much of a blue blood as anyone can be, and her maiden name is on the actual building. Yet she’s doing the same thing as me. Fucking all of them. And loving it.
They’re treating me like I’m one of them, in one their dirty secret. Part of their club.
I slip a second finger inside me, and barely feel it, so I add a third, moving fast.
It’s nice, for sure, but it’s not nearly enough. I sigh, giving up. What even is the point? Compared to being fucked, touching myself is like the difference between eating kale and a chocolate cake.
I could see if Roman or Rhys feels like helping me out with my sudden waves of frustration, but as soon as that option crosses my mind, I dismiss it. No. It’s not worth the headache when Marius hears about it. I don’t want to break his stupid rule about only fucking other people when he’s here again. I don’t want to risk the consequences.
Besides…the simple truth is, I’d much rather ifhewas the one scratching my itch. I’ll just wait for Marius to come back.
I flush, shocked by my own admission.
I’m counting on him to come back, because he said he would. I…trust him. At least a little.
I’ve never trusted any man in my life. Not one. But I know he’ll be back soon.
Not soon enough.
A wicked idea crosses my mind. I get out of my bath, towel dry myself, and dig through the bags of clothing I haven’t unpacked yet. I need to. In the back of my mind, I know I’m not going to return the clothes. I liked what I wore today. It wasn’t too revealing, but the style was considerably more put together than my usual outfits. And the ballerina flats were just so comfy.
I find the bag fromMinionette. The first thing I pull out is red, andextremelysmall. The triangles between the thin strings are barely big enough to cover the nipples. As for the panties, they’re completely open.
That’ll do.
I put on the ridiculous ensemble, and get into bed, my phone in hands.
I’m really not very smart when it comes to men. Brandon blackmailed me into sex with private videos. The blackmailer is using something similar against me, along with dozens of other people. And Marius himself filmed his kinky torture session to keep me from reporting it. Yet here I am, taking a sexy selfie. Knowing all that, I’m not dumb enough to show my face.
I try to strike a pose and feel extremely dumb doing it. I check it. It’s okay, but not as hot as I’d hoped. I part my legs and bring one finger to my clit. Putting my phone down on its stand, I set up a timer and bring my other hand to my boobs. He seems very fond of those.
I look at the selfie. Much better.
