"You are, aren't you? Such a wet, greedy pussy for us. Does that embarrass you, baby?" He kissed her shoulder, not waiting for her to respond before he continued. "It shouldn't. You're fucking perfect. Made for us, baby. This wet pussy is everything that we need, and we can take care of you exactly howyouneed. Don't you see? Your desperate cunt is exactly where it needs to be right now, filled by mine and James' cocks whenever you want it."
Camelia groaned again, the sound stifled when James pressed his lips against hers again. His tongue pushed another sweet piece of fruit inside her mouth, but she was too preoccupied byEvan's words and his cock and James' tongue and touch to be too concerned about eating.
Evan...fuck, she hated that what he said feltright. She was exactly where she needed to be, no matter how humiliated she was going to be by this entire experience when her rational mind finally woke up and sloughed off the hormones that were currently turning her brain into soup.
These two men...as complicated as the relationship between the three of them was about to become, they had given her exactly what she needed during this time. They had kept her safe, kept her fucked, kept her fed.
And she would always be grateful for that.
Chapter twenty-six
Camelia woke up with the early morning light streaming in from the bedroom window, and her body temperature comfortable for the first time since her heat struck. She was buried under the puffy comforter again, her head resting on several pillows as she slowly came out of sleep. When she stretched, she marveled at the lack of sensitivity of her skin. No sweat, no desperation, no tingling between her legs that said that she was empty that was fuckingwrong.
Her heat was over.
ThankGod.
It took several moments before Camelia gathered the courage to fully open her eyes, and when she did, she was thrown directly into a bedroom in complete disaster. Clothes were strewn this way and that, and she flushed at the sight of her lacy panties dangling from the doorknob of the closet.
How James or Evan hadn’t noticed that and moved them...fuck, she didn’t want to think about either of them handling her underwear.
Fuck.
Camelia swallowed, throwing the comforter off her body and slowly standing on barely steady legs so that she could go over to the full-body mirror hanging on the back of the bedroom door. She flushed even hotter as she looked at herself, her hands curling into fists as humiliation washed over her. Her entire body covered in marks. Hickeys and bruises from the crushing grip of four hands, littered across her body in a damning tell-all of what she had been doing for the past few days. An aggressive-looking scratch mark on her hip made her gently trace her fingers across the slightly swollen skin, and she winced at the soft throb of pain the touch elicited.
What the fuck...had theydone?
Their combined scent was still heavy in the room as she turned away from the mirror, an even more damning piece of evidence. It was thick and heady and spicy and smoky and...sweet. So fuckingsweet. Camelia bit her lip; it had been a while since she’d smelled her own pheromones, but it wasn’t a scent that she’d forgotten.
"Fuck." Camelia rubbed her hand across her face, biting her lip at the pleasant throb between her legs. She didn't burn anymore, and the aching need that had suffused her had dissipated, but that didn't mean...
Fuck. That didn't mean that she didn't remember. Parts of it, anyway. A lot of it was a blur, but some things were blindingly clear. Evan's mouth on hers, whispering sweet words as he slowly lowered on top of her, his cock filling her so pleasantly. James washing her hair in the shower sometime in the middle despite Camelia's protest, his mouth hot on the back of her neck as he'd slowly fucked her against the wall after she'd begged.
Their cocks stretching her together again, at least two more times after that first.
That was probably why she was so sore. Camelia flushed. She'd never...she'd never thought...
"Fuck, you're an idiot." She groaned softly, then forced her shaky legs underneath her as she walked back to the bed. She didn't bother to straighten the sheets on the mattress or toss the other pillows back that were scattered around the room. Instead, she found her shirt and her jeans and pulled them on, the rub of denim against her sensitive folds making her flush all over again. Her bra was nowhere to be found, and she was too desperate to get out of this house to go on an exhaustive search. She did grab her underwear, though, shoving them in her back pocket with a burning blush, and silently prayed that they weren’t sticking out enough to be seen.
She hoped that James and Evan were...fuck. Somewhere else.
She looked around for her phone, realizing that her backpack had to be somewhere else. She hoped that Evan had grabbed it when they had left the quad. She didn't want to have to go to the student center and hope that some good Samaritan had decided to turn in her wallet and phone.
If she didn't think about everything that she had done the last week, everything that she had begged for...
If she didn't think about it...she wouldn't have to think about it.
Camelia chewed her bottom lip as she slowly trekked down the stairs, her hopes of sneaking out unnoticed immediately plummeting at the sound of male voices coming from the kitchen.
A cursory glance around the living room didn't reveal her backpack to her, and she ran her hand through her tangled hair with a sigh before she turned and marched into the kitchen. Her shoes were probably in there, anyway.
"Morning." She forced her voice to steady as she spoke, slowing after she entered the space. Whatever conversation that James and Evan had been having abruptly cut off with her presence, and Camelia squirmed a little as both of their intense gazes fell on her.
She didn't know...how todothis. Were things different now? Or were they going to go back to the mildly sweet and antagonistic back and forth that they'd exchanged before...everything?
Camelia didn't think that you could spend several days in an intense fuck-fest with someone and not have at least a mild change of heart towards them, but what did she know?
"Good morning." James lifted his coffee cup, his gray eyes not leaving her for a second. He wore a faded black band t-shirt over his pajama pants, and his blonde hair was mussed on one side as if he'd crashed on the pillow the night before and not moved again until morning. "There's coffee, if you want some."
