But my fingers keep moving anyway, circling that bundle of nerves while my mind replays every second of our encounter.
The way his gray eyes burned when he looked at me. The flex of his jaw when I challenged him. How his whole body went rigid when I dropped to my knees, like seeing me submit was both his fantasy and his worst nightmare.
Get on your knees.
The command echoes in my head, and I press harder, faster. Imagine what would have happened if he'd followed through. If he'd pulled his cock out and fed it to me like he wanted to. Would he have been rough? Would he have gripped my hair and fucked my throat until I gagged, or would he have surprised me by being gentle?
The thought of the others watching makes me gasp. All four of them surrounding me while I?—
My orgasm feels like a sucker punch, stealing my breath but leaving me vaguely unsatisfied and weirdly fucking confused. I bite my lip to keep from making noise as I try to crest a better wave, but a small whimper escapes anyway. My whole body trembles and then I lay flat, panting.
But not panting as much as I'd hoped I would be.
The aftermath is immediate shame and a weird sense of embarrassment, as if being in the Kings' house means they can somehow hear my thoughts.
But the release does its job. My eyelids grow heavy, the anxiety that's been choking me out finally loosening its grip. I pull the blanket up to my chin and let exhaustion drag me under.
Sleep comes easier than it has in months.
Chapter 20
ELLIE
Sunlight slaps me awake,and for a disorienting moment, I don't know where the hell I am. The pink walls should be a dead giveaway, but my brain's still caught between here and there, now and then.
Then the collar presses against my throat and reality comes crashing back in.
Right. I'mpropertynow. Signed, sealed, delivered like a fucking Amazon package.
At least I slept this time.
I sit up, running my hands through my tangled hair. The house is silent. Way too silent. Either they're all dead or still asleep, and considering it's—I check my phone—eight in the morning, I'm betting on the latter.
Underworld gods aren't known for being early risers.
My stomach growls, reminding me I haven't eaten since yesterday's stress-induced breakfast of pills and anxiety. I should probably stay in this room. Be a good little pet and wait for instructions.
Fuck that.
I pad down the hallway in bare feet, peeking into rooms as I pass. Tank's door is closed, but I can't hear anything. Same with Kade's. Jinx's door is cracked open enough for me to catch a glimpse of golden hair spread across black silk pillowcases.
Only Cyrus's door shows any signs of life, the blue glow of monitors still bleeding from underneath. Of course. The ghost in the machine never sleeps. He can probably sustain himself entirely with energy drinks and spite at this point.
The kitchen's exactly as I remember from last night. Stainless steel fixtures and granite countertops, just like the ones we used to make fun of Sheri's mom for bragging about. Looking back, they were probably as fake as everything else.
I open the fridge, half-expecting it to be empty or full of beer and takeout containers. Instead, it's... stocked. Actually stocked. Eggs, bacon, vegetables, milk that's not expired. Someone shops here. Someone cares about having real food.
It's got to be Jinx. He was always kind of a health nut.
I pull out ingredients, moving on autopilot. Cooking always calms me down, gives my hands something to do besides count to five. The bacon hits the pan with a vicious hiss, and the smell fills the kitchen.
"You're up early."
I don't jump. Barely. Cyrus stands in the doorway looking like he got dressed in the dark and lost the fight. His hair sticks up in twelve directions, his glasses sit crooked on his nose, and he's wearing a t-shirt that's inside out. The black coffee mug in his hand might be the only thing holding him upright.
"Could say the same to you," I reply, focusing on flipping bacon instead of looking at him. "Though I'm guessing you never actually slept."
"Sleep's for people without deadlines." He moves to the coffee maker, pouring himself a refill with the care of someone performing a sacred ritual. "You always wake up at the ass crack of dawn, or is this a new development?"
