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I can’t have that.
I catch one corner of the sheet between my fingers, and, like a poltergeist in a horror movie, slowly slide it down.
She lets out a murmur and shifts slightly, one knee bent, the other leg straight. She’s in only a small pair of sleep shorts and a strappy camisole. The shorts have ridden up, so half her ass is exposed, the skin pale and smooth and perfect.
Carefully, I sit on the edge of the bed. With each move I make, I pause after to ensure it hasn’t disturbed her.
I long to put my cock inside her. How hot and tight and wet she’d feel. I imagine her waking to me fucking her, the look of shock on her face. I’d clamp my hand over her mouth so she couldn’t scream and keep taking what I wanted. I know soon enough she’d give in to the pleasure and open herself wide to me.
Moving slowly, I slide my fingers up the inside of her shorts leg and have to hold back a groan. Fuck, she’s not wearing any panties. I go farther, between her legs.
From behind, I dip just the tip of my finger into that hidden part of her. She’s wet and hot. I did send her back to her room all desperate and needy. Did she masturbate when she got back here, touching herself while she was thinking about being with the three of us? Silly girl. Why is she fighting it so much? She should just submit to us. We always get what we want, anyway.
As much as I want to slide my finger inside her, right up to the knuckle, I hold myself back. It would surely wake her.
She said I’d never get a taste of her, but she was wrong. I slip my hand back out of her shorts and place my finger in my mouth, sucking her arousal off. My cock throbs and jerks, practically demanding attention.
Down, boy.
I look around on the floor and spot her discarded panties. Dirty little bitch. She probably took them off so she could get easy access to her cunt. I scoop them up and then take my huge erection out of my pants. I lift her panties to my nose and inhale deeply, drawing the scent of her musk into my nose and throat. I know what a girl smells like when she’s turned on, and she was definitely creaming her underwear for us.
I wrap the little slip of material around my cock, deliberately pressing the head to the gusset of the underwear where her wetness has left its mark. Then I start to slowly masturbate.
I slip my other hand back inside her shorts, lightly touching her again.
Jesus, I want more. I want to push my tongue inside her, and lick and suck and swallow. I want to suck her clit into my mouth and bring her close to orgasm, before pulling back again. I picture myself torturing her that way, even as my hand moves up and down my cock still wrapped in her underwear.
I finger her again, and she moans and pushes back on me in her sleep. If I’m not careful, she’ll wake up. A part of me wants her to. I want the anger and the chaos.
Pushing carefully between her cheeks, I run my fingertip over her asshole. Has any man ever taken her here before? I vow to be the first. At the thought, my balls draw in, my cock growing even harder in my fist. My body bunches into tight muscle and all of my focus and energy goes to my dick.
I come silently and hard all over her panties, the jets of cum spurting over and over.
I slip my other hand out from her sleep shorts, then lean over and place a kiss at the spot right beside her eye. I brush a few softs strands of hair away from her face. I briefly debate taking the dirty underwear with me, but then decide to leave it as a present for her instead.
“Goodnight, Duchess,” I whisper in her ear.
Chapter 31
Mackenzie
The moment I open my eyes, the memory of last night hits me.
I’m twenty years old now. That’s like proper adulthood. And here I am worrying about some stupid boys. Well, men. They’re all in their twenties, too, so it’s not like any of us are kids anymore.
My stomach twists. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I feel completely trapped.
It’s Monday, and I have classes. As much as I want to curl back up in bed, close my eyes, and pray for oblivion, I can’t.
I could tell Mom I’m sick, and she’d believe me, but I don’t want her to worry. She’s got enough on her mind with the wedding on Sunday. Shit. I can’t believe it’s so soon.
She’s going to marry Nataniele, and then Domenic will be my stepbrother. I’ll be stuck with him for good. An emotion I don’t even recognize solidifies like a cage around my heart. I won’t let him break me. I refuse to. I’m better than him—better than all these abusive, asshole men—no matter what I’ve done or what they’ve pushed me to. I just need to stay strong.
I draw in a deep breath, feeling my lungs expand. I get to my feet, planning to roll out my mat and get some practice in. I’ll put on some meditation music, light an incense stick, and hope it doesn’t set off whatever rudimentary smoke alarms this place has.
But something stops me.
I pause, narrowing my eyes. Something is out of place, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Suddenly, it clicks in my head.
