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“Fynn, let me go.” When there is no response from him, I say it louder, “Fynn, let me up!” I shove at him at the same time, and he jerks awake.
“What's wrong?” He nuzzles my neck, and as much as I would love to stay like this with him, I need up.
“I need to use the bathroom, and I'm thirsty as fuck,” I tell him.
I don't think he realizes our position right away because the moment I'm done talking, he jolts and sits up, “Uh, do you need any help with anything?”
“No. I just needed you to let me go.” I get up and hurry into the bathroom to relieve myself.
My side is throbbing, but I don't want more pain pills, so I search the medicine cabinet until I find some ibuprofen. Taking a few from the bottle, I head back to the bedroom. Fynn is now sitting on the edge of the bed staring at what; I'm not sure because his back is to me.
I keep my eyes on him as I take the medicine. Our conversation from earlier runs through my head, and I get a little perturbed. His words made me wet earlier, or maybe it was how he delivered them, but now that I'm thinking over everything he said to me, I feel like I have to say something.
“I know that I fucked up by leaving, Fynn, but I didn't ask for Brett to carve me up or cut me. I could place blame with you three if you really want to place blame because had you not treated me like your whore, he probably wouldn't have carved these words into me. We both know that none of us is to blame, though. The only blame would be against our fathers for putting us in this position to begin with.”
When he doesn't say anything, it fuels the anger that is only simmering at the moment, and I walk over to the other side of the bed to stand in front of him. He's just staring at the wall, a blank look on his face. His brows furrow before looking at me.
“I shouldn't have said it the way I did; it's not what I meant, but the rest of it...about being our property? I meant every word. You belong to us now, Little Saint. We won't give you up until we are ready, if we ever are ready.” The last part comes out a bit softer than the rest.
“I'm getting used to that idea, Fynn, but...”
“No, you still don't get it. When I said that we may make you bleed for us, I meant it. We can and will make you bleed, but we will also bleed for you. We may be demanding assholes and push you past your limits, but you must know you aren't just some warm pussy for us.”
I cock my brow and skeptically ask, “Really?”
He yanks me until I stand between his spread legs, saying, “This is hard for me, Saint. I've never been one to express my feelings to a female, they were only warm cunts to use for my own gratification, but you're not. You have drawn the three of us in from the get-go. We knew you were special; you're one of us and meant to be ours.”
“What about the contract then?” I question, not understanding why it's in place if they believe all that Fynn is telling me.
A slow smirk grows on his lips, “That was to get you in our grasp. To show you what we can do for you, show how much you would love being owned by us. Make no mistake, Little Saint, the contract still stands because, in the end, we are still dicks, and we will continue to show you just how much you love being our little slut.”
Fuck me. Why is it these Lords get me so worked up all the time? I should be pissed at Fynn still, not forgiving him for what he said earlier, but instead, I drop to my knees and stare up into his brown orbs.
“Are you sure you want to be down there, Little Saint?” I can hear the want behind his growly voice, solidifying my decision.
My only answer for him is to pull his semi-hard cock from his boxer briefs and stroke him. As soon as I feel him grow until he's completely hard and see the bead of precum form at the tip, I run my lips over him, coating them with it.
Fynn's hand comes up and entangles itself in my hair, then yanks my head back. His mouth crashes against mine for another earth-shattering kiss. For someone who doesn't like to kiss, I'd say he's the best out of them all, even though they all have their own talents.
He devours my mouth and his essence from my lips, moaning as he does so. This alone turns me on, and I continue to stroke him. I want so badly to impale myself on him, but I know I'm in no condition for that, so I will just have to be happy with pleasing him instead.
He breaks away, “Open that dirty little mouth, Saint.”
I do so and stick my tongue out as well, bringing a smile to the Lord's face before he lowers my head to make me take him deep into my mouth. He doesn't care that he's choking me or that I'm drooling all over him as he holds me down. He's showing me his dominance, telling me I'm his to do with as he pleases, and I'm all for it.
My hands grip just above his knees as he gives little thrusts deep into my throat, “Reach down and finger fuck yourself if you want to come, Little Saint. We won't be touching you for another few days, not until Doc clears you, so you will have to do it yourself. Don't think you can do it whenever either. You play with that cunt when we tell you, understand?”
I try to nod.
“Good girl.” He pulls out, letting me take a few more breaths before going back and fucking my throat again. We do this for a few minutes, and when I feel him getting a little rougher, he says, “You better come, Saint, because I'm about to feed you a heaping load, and once I'm done, so are you.”
I whimper and begin rubbing my clit harder and faster. I wish I had a toy; they always get me off faster than my hand does. Thankfully, Fynn reaches down and tweaks my nipple, which helps send me over the edge. The moment I feel the pain he inflicts as he squeezes my nipple hard, I come, and so does he as I scream around his cock.
I'm alone in Fynn'sbed when I wake again. It's morning now, a new day to be thankful I'm still alive. I wonder if the guys will let me out of the room today, or will they keep me prisoner. I meant what I said, I will not leave again without one of them.
I take my time using the bathroom and getting dressed before I even try opening the door. When I can no longer procrastinate, I stand before the door and slowly place my hand on the knob. Taking a deep breath, I twist my wrist, and surprisingly, the knob turns with it.
Opening the door slowly, I pray that it doesn't squeak. Why? I don’t want them knowing I’m awake yet. When it opens enough for me to slip through without making a noise, I do. I creep across the hall toward Oakley's room because they usually gather in his room for some reason.
