I’m balls deep now, seated inside her fully. My hands are on her hips, her skin silky soft beneath my touch. I pull back, slowly, wanting to give her body as much time as possible to get used to my invasion. My breathing grows ragged as I try to control myself.
“You’re not listening,” Ginger barks. “Do it hard. Don’t make me come over there and show you how it’s done.”
Camile looks over her shoulder at me again, her dark eyes glistening, her eyelashes clinging together with tears. “Just do it, Rook. I’ll be all right.”
“No.” I won’t hurt her. I won’t.
“I’ve had enough of this nicey-nicey shit.” Ginger snickers. “Give me a packet of that lube.”
What the fuck is he doing? I go rigid and hold still inside Camile. I pray he’s not planning to take my place. But I don’t hear the rasp of his zipper.
He moves up right behind me. I’m conscious of the fact I’m naked with a man holding a gun at my back, and while I want to focus all my attention on Camile and making sure she’s okay, it’s kind of hard to focus. I glance over my shoulder to find him dripping lube over the muzzle of the gun. My brain goes into panic, though mycock is still rock hard. My first thought is of Camile, and where he’s planning on putting that gun, but he doesn’t move from behind me.
“I said fuck herharder.”
The cold metal of the barrel presses between my ass cheeks, and I suddenly know exactly where he’s going to put the gun! I freeze and brace, then pain tears through me as the muzzle buries itself in my asshole. I grunt, my breath trapped in my lungs. It’s painful, because he just rammed the thing in me, the bastard. But it’s not the first time I’ve had something up my ass, and I don’t mind a bit of ass play, so I’m not exactly a virgin at this stuff. As I get used to it, the stretched feeling only serves to make my dick harder, despite how insanely fucked up this is.
Camile glances over her shoulder at me, her eyes wild, her cheeks flushed. “What’s going on?”
Ginger chuckles. “Your boyfriend is getting to experience what it’s like to be fucked in the ass.”
“What?” she exclaims.
“It’s a gun,” I tell her, breathless. “He’s put his gun there.”
She whimpers. “Oh, God.”
Ginger is clearly enjoying himself. He pushes a little deeper, pain spiking through me, though I know he’s barely breached my ring. Maybe I’m getting off lightly. This is giving a whole other meaning to ‘just the tip.’ For some reason, my thoughts go to that damn hazing, and I should be grateful for it because, hell, maybe it prepared me for this shit and helped me be less freaked out.
He laughs to himself again. “Is the safety off? Is my finger on the trigger? Who knows. We’re having fun, aren’t we?”
And… suddenly my whole belief that I can deal collapses. Those words give me a sudden, all too visceral image of what might happen if the safety isn’t on, and he pulls that trigger. Utter, ice-cold terror grips me, and I feel my cock start to soften. Oh, God, no, no, no. He’ll take her if I don’t do this.
He pushes the gun deeper, forcing my hips forward. “You get the idea. The more you fuck her, the less of this gun you’re going to have in your ass.”
I’m like a puppet with a stick up its ass, only my stick is a lethal weapon, and the puppet master is a sick fuck.
Ginger is controlling my movements now, and it’s like he’s fucking us both, using the gun on me and my cock on her. I have no choice but to try to match his rhythm to avoid the barrel driving deeper and causing God only knows what damage.
I squeeze my eyes shut and ram into Camile, hoping that because I’m no longer rock hard, it won’t be as painful. Will she ever be able to look me in the eye again? I bet this will ruin everything between us forever, but if it means she won’t be raped by these men, I’ll take that. If it means she can be with the others and be happy, then I’ll take that.
Still, the guilt hits hard as I fuck her.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
13
CAMILE
I’mglad it’s Rook doing this to me, but I hate what they’re doingto him.
What they’re doing to us both.
I try not to think about the gun or I will lose my mind. I cling onto the sides of the chair, doing my best not to tense up as Rook’s movements grow faster and harder. He’s holding my hips in both hands, his finger digging into my skin, keeping me in place as he fucks me.
It hurt at first—burned way more than I thought I was going to be able to stand. His fingers felt okay, but then taking his size… my eyes watered for more than one reason.
I hate the feeling of all these other men’s gazes on me, knowing they’re all getting off on watching this. I hate that Rook is being brutalized, too, and that he’s still in danger, and being traumatized, even when we’re giving them what they wanted.
