Unintelligible cursing is the only thing I hear before Wyatt explodes down my throat and Owen’s thrusts become jerky.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkk,” Owen shouts over the slapping of skin. His hold on my hips so tight, I know it’ll bruise, but I’ll fucking wear them like a badge of honor.
Labored breathing echoes throughout the room. Each of us panting, spent, and satisfied.
Awareness of the uninvited guests finally register, and my earlier bravado wanes. I go to pull away and cover myself but Owen holds me in place, a devilish smirk lines his satiated face. A look is exchanged between him and Wyatt, their eyes doing that silent communication thing I wish I could decipher.
Owen nods and Wyatt is the first to speak. “Our girl looks beautiful when she comes, doesn’t she?”
My already flushed skin blooms eleven shades of red.
Three throats clear, but it’s Sebastian who responds. “We have news. We’ll wait for you upstairs.” The three of them turn to leave, but not before they all peruse my body once more, their jaws clenching, and I swear I hear a mumbled, “I’m going to fucking kill Wy,” before they finally make their exit.
Once we’re alone again, Wyatt and Owen both pull out of me. Wyatt from my mouth, leaving a drop of his cum on my lips that I lick it off and Owen from my happily sore pussy.
Wyatt hops off the bed, and I turn, falling to my side.
Owen lands beside me and pulls me into his chest, brushing my hair off my sweaty face and kissing me on my forehead.
“You make the noise go silent,” he says so quietly, I’m not sure I was supposed to hear at all. I’m about to ask what he means when I hear a door creak open and the sound of a shower turning on.
My gaze moves toward the direction of the sound in time to see Wyatt come from a room I didn’t notice when I first arrived, holding a damp cloth.
“Let’s get you wiped down and then you can shower while we go see what the fuss is and then we can finish this movie marathon,” Owen states as Wyatt stands in front of me. He bends, spreading my legs and wiping the warm rag on my puffy lips, making me groan.
“Oh shit, I completely forgot we were watching movies. It’s my turn to pick,” I mumble. However, the idea of just closing my eyes and letting them rub me down has a far greater appeal. It’s the last thought I have as my eyes shut.
32
SEBASTIAN
For fuck’s sake! What was that? How did we— why did we? I can’t even formulate the words for what I saw. She’s breathtaking. The way her body looked as Wyatt and Owen worshiped her. I had to bite the inside of my cheek until it drew blood to keep myself from groaning. Shit, my dick is still hard in my pants.
“Was that?” Wes stutters, pacing the hallway upstairs.
“That was art. Living, breathing, art.”
I look at Lev, his focus still focused on the door we just came through as he speaks.
“Why would Wyatt tell us to meet here if he knew— if he was going to-?” Wes still can’t seem to formulate a cohesive thought.
Not that I blame him. I’d like to say I feel guilty for seeing Ariah like that, but I don’t— conflicted, absolutely. I’m not supposed to want her. Yet every time I see her I feel myself being drawn closer and deeper, under some invisible spell. So, no I feel no guilt for seeing her sexy ass body being pleasured. I fucking wish it was me pleasuring her until her claw marks branded my back. But I’m not supposed to feel this way. I can’t afford to.
“Because Wyatt is a schemer and in his mind, she’s our end game,” I state.
Stepping into my field of vision, Lev finally moves his attention from the basement. “Are you saying she isn’t?” he queries, and there’s a challenge in his tone.
Lev is now firmly in Team Ariah’s camp. I’m not in or out of it. It’s just great to see him fight his demons— I wish I could fight my own, but Lev deserves it. They all do. I would love to be a fly on the wall in the room when he gets her alone. Lev doesn’t like being touched and to say his tastes are far from vanilla would be putting it lightly.
It’s not like the knives or blood that Owen likes to play with or the way Wes thrives off degrading his bed buddies— it’s psychological. Lev likes to play with his food before he eats it.
My dick hardens at the thought of Ariah wrapped in ropes and blindfolded after she was hunted down. It’s not my usual taste, but I can understand the appeal.
I raise my hand to rub at my nose, trying to clear my mind of my lustful thoughts and answer Lev’s question.
“I’m not saying that Lev. Shit if it would make this sham of a Selection end, I’d put the ring on her myself,” I utter. My words are truthful, but whether it’s because I want this to be over or because I genuinely love the idea of our little spitfire wearing our ring is still up for debate.
“You fucks are lucky you got to experience any of her while you’re not in her good graces,” Wyatt states.
