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My eyes light with anticipation when it appears she’s finally registered she’s covered in something. Then, everything that transpires happens as if time is moving in slow motion.
Samantha’s mouth tips up into a shit-eating grin as her tongue swipes across her lips. She leans back and groans. “I knew he couldn’t resist me.”
“She didn’t just—” Sebastian’s blue irises bulge.
“She did,” Owen exclaims, bouncing like a kid in a candy store.
Samantha’s hands roam down her dress as she spreads her legs, and I have to force my head not to turn and my eyes not to close.
“He didn’t use a condom,” she squeaks in triumph. “Wesley Edgewood is finally mine!”
I snort. “Someone’s being presumptuous.”
Wes hums his agreement. “That’s her default setting.”
“Yup, that and being a bitch with an endless supply of audacity,” Lev adds.
Another brain-shattering moan cuts off our conversation, bringing our attention back to the TV.
“Damn Wes, you fucked me so good,” Samantha mutters, scooping cum from her chest and shoving her fingers in her pussy.
My stomach churns, but like rubbernecking as you pass an accident, I can’t look away. “We’re going to need to burn down the whole house after this,” I grumble.
“Please, fuck me harder, Daddy,” she whimpers.
I whip my head in Wes’s direction. “Daddy?”
Wes rolls his eyes and shrugs but doesn’t respond.
“Listen, the girl fucks her brother. Maybe her Daddy kink is real,” Owen quips.
Dry heaving, Sebastian’s hand covers his mouth, and all I can think is same, buddy, same.
“Blood and guts don’t make you the least bit squeamish, but this does?” Owen jests.
Arching a brow, Sebastian counters, “Everything involving Samantha makes me violently ill.” We all laugh.
Samantha is vile—rotten from the inside out. Her soul is black, but not in the same way ours are. We all have blood on our hands, stained from the responsibilities that come with being from money.
There is no such thing as an ethical billionaire, and every family in this town has a net worth that begins with at least a B. We all lie, cheat, and steal in some capacity to either maintain power or increase it. But the lengths to which Samantha was willing to go far surpasses even the greediest among us.
“Truer words have never been spoken,” I mumble.
The screen goes black. “That’s enough of that shit,” Lev grunts.
“Did she just lick horse nut off her lips and then shove some—” Owen starts.
“Don’t finish that sentence. I’ve suffered enough, thank you very much. As it is, I’m not sure a brain transplant would rid me of what I just witnessed,” Sebastian blurts, cutting him off.
Owen, being Owen, cackles. “Fine, but please tell me we recorded that it’s horse cum she’s finger-banging herself with?”
Grinning, Wes stands, pulls his phone from his back pocket, and texts the group chat. As our phones go off, he says, “Every single fucking second of it.”
A smile creeps on my face. We’re one step closer to having what we need to ruin everything Samantha Davenport holds dear—her position as “queen,” her physical appearance, her public persona, and her quest for supremacy. I could add Wes to the list of things she’ll lose, but the skank never had him.
Needless to say, the day her world crumbles, I’ll be there to choke the life out of her and then piss on her wherever she lands with no remorse.
The downside to making Samantha think Wes fucked her is that it has made her more feral. Once she was done with her early morning flicking the bean session, she stormed out of the room in search of him. Unsuccessfully, of course.
