Page 11

Ryker’s moving faster now, his hips thrusting up into her mouth, his hand tightening in her hair. I can hear the wet sounds of her sucking him, the occasional gag when he goes too deep, and they make me want to fuck her harder, deeper, until she’s screaming around his cock.

But I don’t. I keep my rhythm steady, controlled, my thumb working her clit with the same relentless patience. I watch her body for every sign, every twitch and gasp and shift of her hips, and I adjust accordingly. When she arches into my touch, I angle deeper. When she stills, I slow down, wait, and let her catch her breath.

It’s the most careful I’ve ever been during sex. And it’s driving me insane.

I want to pound into her. I want to claim her, mark her, and fill her with my cum until she’s dripping with both of us. I want to make her mine in a way that Kipton didn’t and in a way that Ryker won’t. I want to ruin her for anyone else so that every time she thinks about sex and every time she touches herself, she thinks about me.

I also want her to want it. I want her to come apart because I’m making her feel good, not because she’s enduring it. I want her to choose this, to choose me, even though I know she never would if she had real options.

The contradiction is torture, and I channel it into my movements, fucking her with an intensity that is almost violent but never crosses the line. My thumb presses harder on her clit, circling faster, and I feel it before she does. The tightening of her inner muscles around my cock, the quickening of her breath around Ryker’s shaft, the way her hips start to roll back into me, chasing her release.

“Let go,” I tell her. “I’ve got you. Just let go.”

She comes with a cry that’s muffled by Ryker’s cock. Her whole body convulses, her pussy clamping down on me painfully hard. I keep moving through it, fucking her through the aftershocks. My thumb continues working her until she’s shaking, her hands coming off the sheets to grip Ryker’s thighs for support.

And then Ryker comes too, with a groan that sounds like it was torn out of him, his hips stuttering as he releases down her throat. I watch her swallow, watch her throat work, and the sight is so obscene, so perfect, that my own control frays at the edges.

I’m close. So close that my balls are tight and aching, that every thrust feels like it might be the last one before I explode. But I want to make this last. I want to stay inside her for as long as possible, memorizing the feel of her around me before I have to pull out and face whatever comes next.

Fawn collapses forward, Ryker’s cock slipping from her mouth, her cheek pressed against his thigh. She’s panting as her body still twitches with aftershocks. I slow my movements, my hands stroking her hips, her back, anywhere I can touch.

“Almost there.”

I pick up the pace, chasing my own release now. My hips slap against hers, and the sound of our bodies meeting fills the room. I know I should pull out because we’ve already taken enough from her tonight without adding an unplanned pregnancy to the list.

Despite my thoughts, I come inside her with a groan that sounds like surrender, my cock pulsing as I fill her with everything I have. The release is endless, draining something from me that I didn’t know I had to give. I keep thrusting through it, milking every last sensation until I’m empty and barely able to hold myself up.

When it’s over, I don’t pull out right away. I stay there, my forehead dropping to her shoulder, breath ragged and hot against her skin. The mask is still on, and I’m suddenly grateful for it. I can’t stand the thought of her seeing whatever expression I’m wearing. It would give away too much.

I don’t know what this is.

I just know that when I finally pull out and settle beside her, when Ryker settles on her other side, forming a circle around her like we’re guarding something precious, I feel a sense of possession that’s more intense than anything I’ve ever felt. She’s ours now. Marked in ways that won’t wash off.

And as I lie there in the dark, listening to her breathing even out, feeling the warmth of her body pressed against mine, I know that one night is never going to be enough.

Not for me. Not for any of us.

The deal has changed. I felt it shift the moment Kipton told her she wasn’t leaving. She’s not going back to that apartment tonight. She’s not going back to that diner tomorrow. She’s not going back to a life where she keeps paying and paying on debts that aren’t hers.

She’s ours.

And I’m the one who made her believe she had a choice, even when I knew she didn’t.

The thought should bother me more than it does. But I’m too tired, too wrapped up in the feel of her. So I close my eyes behind the mask and pretend I’m not exactly the monster she thinks I am. That maybe, if I hold her tight enough, I can become something else.

Something worthy of what I just took.

5

RYKER

Icome down her throat with a groan that feels like it was ripped out of me, my hips stuttering, my hand still fisted in her hair. The release is violent, endless, and so fucking draining. She swallows around me, her throat working, and the sight is so obscene I have to squeeze my eyes shut behind the mask because looking at her is too much.

When it’s over, I pull myself from her mouth and collapse back against the headboard, breathing hard. The zombie mask is hot and damp, clinging to my face like a second skin. I want to tear it off. I want to see her without this rubber barrier between us.

Yet I don’t move. None of us do.

Fawn is on all fours between us. Noah is still buried inside her from behind, his forehead dropped to her shoulder. They’re both still, catching their breath, and I watch her body tremble in the aftermath. The way her arms shake as she tries to steady herself. She’s exhausted. Used. And we did this to her.