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And my body listens.
I come violently as I grab onto the bed sheets and scream.
With my pussy throbbing and my walls squeezing around Elijah’s cock, I continue to push my ass back against him to ride out my orgasm.
He grips my waist with both hands and rapidly thrusts into me. There’s nothing but the sound of slapping flesh echoing in the room. He grabs both of my breasts, squeezing them hard as he rides me.
With so much delicious friction, I’m caught off guard when a second orgasm topples me over the edge.
He sinks his teeth deep into my shoulder as he grunts, moving harder inside me.
“Oh, fuck,” I shout.
“Give it to me, Evelyn,” he demands.
And with his words, I do.
33
My eyes crack open to an unfamiliar ceiling. What the hell?
Oh right, I’m at the lodge.
I stretch and am immediately reminded of last night’s events as my body aches in pain. I tenderly sit up and look around the room. There’s broken art and figurines on the floor, overturned chairs, water still spilling from the bathroom, and blood smeared on the otherwise pristine white sheets. I look around again and realize that Elijah isn’t in the room.
Carefully, I get off the bed, wincing while I pick up clothes to cover my body. I open the door and I’m greeted by blinding lights streaming through the massive windows in the living room.
“Christ,” I moan, rubbing my forehead.
Following the smell of fresh coffee, I walk into the kitchen and find three pairs of eyes—glowing with humor—staring back at me.
“Holy fuck. You look like shit.” Taylor chuckles, standing up to pour me a cup of coffee.
“Fuck off, Bryant. Where’s Celeste?” I grumble.
He glances back at me quickly. “I had to give her something to help her sleep. She’s still having nightmares. Good thing I did.” He smirks. “At least she didn’t have to hear you crying for help last night.”
I glower at him and snatch the mug from his hands. The asshole, formally known as Micah, starts to laugh.
“Oh, babe, you look like you went to war. You might want to wipe the blood off, though,” he says, dusting his finger across his chin.
“What?” I say in confusion.
Caleb flashes his Hollywood smile. “You have blood on your face.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Where is he?”
Conjuring the seductive demon himself, Elijah walks into the kitchen, freshly showered, dressed like sin with his black button up, black jeans, and black coat with a duffel bag on his shoulder. He glances around the room, intentionally avoiding my eyes, and addresses the guys.
“I’m heading out.” His words are cold and short.
Micah squishes his eyebrows together. “What? But it’s my birthday. We were—”
Elijah cuts him off. “I’ve got to go.” His words bite. “I’m not staying here. Let me know when you’re done playing house. I have actual shit to do.”
My eyes widen in shock, mirroring Micah’s, as Caleb abruptly stands.
“Hey!” Caleb shouts. “What the hell crawled up your ass? It’s his birthday.”
