“Vincent,” Raphael says.
Vincent hesitates, sneering, still leaning against the wall. “I don’t want to,” he says despite how hard his length is. It’s too dim to see if he has piercings.
Tears fill my eyes, but I don’t let hope fill me. Not when Raphael narrows his eyes, hands balled into fists. “Vincent. Fuck her. Now.”
With a grunt, Vincent stalks over to me. A whimper escapes because he turns me over, grips my hips, and presses his dick against my center from behind. Ready to rut me. I suck in a deep breath right before he thrusts, injecting himself deep inside me.
“Fuuuck! Please no more!” I plead as the tattooed giant plows into me, deep, hard, and fast. My pussy is on fire. And every thrust feels like a lightning strike.
Even if he doesn’t want this, Vincent grips a handful of hair and yanks, forcing me into an arch so his dick can go deeper. So hard, my tits swing and bounce with every movement. His chest slaps against my wreckage of a back, chafing the ripped flesh.His hips put more pressure on the expander. I take slow, deep breaths, but nothing helps.
Warm hands cover my breasts, distracting me momentarily from the pain. I look up through wet, blurry eyes, finding the warm brown eyes of Seth as he massages my sore breasts and leans in to kiss my neck. Soft touches of his lips, and I soon realize he’s following the trail of Rory’s teeth marks. He thumbs my nipples, and I gasp.
Jude covers my mouth with his. It’s all too much. My inflamed center getting pounded to hell, the sensual torture of Seth’s fingers plucking and pinching my nipples, and Jude’s dominant mouth conquering mine.
Then, Seth slides one hand lower, roaming across my belly until he reaches my lower lips. I can’t tell if they’re wet with my fluids or their cum. But when he touches my clit, I hiss, arching my neck.
“So pretty and puffy,” Seth says, still gripping one breast while working my clit from side to side before rubbing circles around it. “Can’t wait to taste you, Briella Darling.”
“Keep your digits off my dick, Bunyan,” Vincent warns, voice rough.
Seth smirks and adds two fingers, rubbing my clit harder, quicker.
Jude pauses from my mouth but doesn’t lose my eyes. “Switch, Seth.”
With his tongue still tasting me, Jude lowers his fingers to the swollen knot. Vincent grunts, but he doesn’t warn Jude away.
Seth cups my other breast and curls his thumb around the hard bud.
My whole body shakes as Vincent delivers short, fiery bursts of thrusts. I look to the side. I find Raphael’s dark, carnal eyes.Everything conspires against me, ripping my consent away. High on pain and pleasure endorphins.
My inner muscles flutter. A deep groan resonates from Vincent’s throat.
“Yeah, you feel that sweet pussy, don’t you, Vincent?” Seth eyes him with a wicked smirk while pinching my nipple. “She’s about to come, boys! Come on, Briella Darling, fall apart for me, you’re so goddamn beautiful!”
I hate how his praise sends me over the edge. I hate how I’m still seeking Raphael through it all.
More plucking of my nipples. Another searing kiss. And Jude rubs three fingers against my clit.
When Vincent crushes his hips to my ass and comes, shooting his release into me, I orgasm, coming hard with strong pulses of pleasure that surge through me, filling my body with heat to numb the pain. For a few blessed moments, the pain disappears.
As soon as Vincent finishes, he shoves me forward. I fall over, worn out, strung out, fucked to the near-killing point. And still, I have no regrets. No regrets about biting Jude, throwing rocks at Rory, or taking part of his ear off, or swinging that axe. I don’t regret staring into the abyss of Raphael’s eyes.
At least they give me a couple of moments, and I curl into the fetal position on the rocky ground, still wet from the hose.
My lungs constrict. My throat seems to fill up with dry ash. I haven’t felt this level of pain in years. But those years were worse. Because Raphael may be a psycho, but he doesn’t pretend.
Most of all? He doesn’t make me pretend.
Put on a happy face, Gabriella. Don’t let them see your fear. Don’t let them see your vulnerability. Don’t laugh at them. Don’t curse them. Never fight them. Become a numb machine.
The meds messed with my mind, blurring my memories, eclipsing my thoughts with a chronic, slow-moving fog.
I don’t feel numb. I feel raw. Real. And deep beneath the superficial pain burning through my flesh and blood… I feel alive.
When I start to shake, struggling for breath, panting and wheezing through my nose, strong arms lift me, pulling my worn and bleeding body into his lap. I don’t need to look up at him. Warm, black hands, callused and rugged, tenderly wrap around me, anchoring around the back of my neck until I’m pressed to his chest, to his pounding heart.
“Breathe, Babydoll. Breathe with me. Slow breath through the nose. That’s a good girl,” he soothes me as I break down, crying in his arms.
