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A small gasp tears from my throat.
He chuckles, "We really did a number on you, didn't we? But you took it so well, like the good girl I know you are. It's a shame you never got one yourself," he hums, grinding his palm against my clit with more pressure.
“Fuck,” I heave, digging my nails into his forearm as the warm spray of water falls over our heads.
“Open your eyes and look at me,” he demands, pressing harder and then pulling away. Fingers grip my head, pulling me back until my gaze crashes into his. A smoldering look stares back at me, ready to go more. “Good girl,” he whispers with a smirk. “Now, this is your reward for being such a trooper. You can come as many times as you want. But we each get a turn.” His grin takes over his whole face when my head falls back onto a shoulder waiting behind me, and an orgasm slams through me. “That’s one,” he murmurs, leaving me a shaking mess.
They take turns bringing me to orgasm. So much so that I lose count at number five. It makes up for all the times Jericho was slamming into me, and my body was desperately seeking the release, only to have it pulled away at the last second.
My eyes remain shut when heat races over my flesh from the continuous warm water as the mud slowly washes from my skin along with the cum that painted me, flowing down the drain with the rest of the filth. My pussy aches in the best way from the combined orgasms and Jericho’s dick.
"Lean your head back," Arrow murmurs, wrapping a hand around the back of my neck and angling me backward. Warm water falls over my hair as their fingers gently work through the mess of curls and knots left behind from the rain and run outside.
They continue to wash me under the spray of the water until they're satisfied with my cleanliness.
"Come on now," Jericho murmurs, taking my hand and leading me out of the shower slowly. "Let's get you dried off."
A warm towel meets my flesh when I finally peel my eyes open. Shepp stands there, examining my face with his eyes and taking me in. There's a pleading in his eyes, begging me not to say anything about what I heard from him. Which is fine; I won't expose his secrets if he doesn't want me to. But how can they expect the same from me?
Jericho walks into the bathroom with pajamas in his hands and comes to stand beside Shepp.
"Let's get you dressed," he says, nodding to Shepp as he takes the towel to the rack and puts it back. "Lift your arms," he demands, slipping a T-shirt over my head and then taps my legs, so that I can step into a pair of sweatpants.
"Now, let's go to sleep," Jericho mumbles with hooded eyes. "We've had quite the evening, haven't we?" he hums, taking me by the hand and leading me to the bed. "You're in the middle," he says, gesturing for me to crawl into the bed.
Clinking catches all of our attention as Shepp signs something.
"Right now, really?" Arrow says with a yawn.
Shepp signs something else quickly with a desperate expression.
"Go on then. You know where we'll be," Jericho says, nodding toward the door with a blank expression.
Once my head hits the pillow, I swear my body melts into the most comfortable bed I've ever slept on. What a fucking night it's been. Between the demands of my monster and trying to find my stuff, I'm so damn exhausted I can barely function.
"Here, Little Chaos," Jericho murmurs from the side of the bed with a full glass of water in his hand and three pills in the other. "This is for you. I'm sure you'll be feeling what we did for days." A genuine look of concern passes over his face, like he's let his walls down.
"Thanks," I rasp, reaching over and taking the water and pills, swallowing them down without question.
Loud snoring next to me has my brows furrowing when I look at Arrow, who is fast asleep after stitching up his wound.
"He passed out," I say, scrunching my face.
"You'll come to learn that the second Arrow puts his head on the pillow, he's out. He also doesn't wake up until the sun comes up." Jericho tilts his head, examining Arrow, who seems to sleep so peacefully.
"Any chance I can get my pills so I can sleep like the dead?" I ask softly.
A vulnerable feeling passes over me when his eyes connect with mine. I can't tell what's going through his head, but he tilts it again, pondering my request.
"Not unless you plan on telling me why exactly you need such a heavy sedative to help you stay asleep? I can only assume it’s the monster?” He raises a brow.
I swallow hard, darting my eyes to the comforter. What can I tell him that won't expose the whole mess I'm in?
"Mhmm," he hums, pushing the cover back and climbing in beside me. With a clap of his hands, the lights go out, and he pulls me into his side, resting his chin on top of my head. "You can tell me anything, Little Chaos. I saw the marks on your body. I saw what he did to you," he whispers softly, squeezing me harder against him. "And the mark under your tattoo. Whatever you went through, just know that I'm an ear to listen. I want you to expose yourself to me, not so I can use it against you. But so I can help you."
"Help me?" I whisper without thinking and breathe in his scent.
Why would he want to do that? Why the sudden change of attitude?
