10. The Screaming Didn’t Give It Away?

10

The Screaming Didn’t Give It Away?

“Table ten,” Ethan said, barely sparing her a glance as he rushed around, looking like someone—or specifically the five bickering Alphas in his kitchen—had ruined not just his day but quite possibly his life.

Theodore, Kilian, Cian, Elijah, and Kalen had officially picked up all the slack, but it seemed like Elijah’s girl was just too afraid to make the first move and leave. She had six empty iced-coffee glasses spread out before her, and her hands were visibly shaking as she sucked on a seventh drink, eyes wide and full of terrified tears. Elijah had graduated from his phone and pulled out a tablet at some point—from where, Isobel had no idea. He was tapping away, absorbed in his work, oblivious to the girl and her overcaffeinated terror. She seemed to dredge up the courage to ask him a question, and in answer, he pulled headphones out of his pocket and inserted them into his ears.

Isobel wasn’t doing as well as Theodore, who had his entire table eating out of the palm of his hand and somehow still respecting his boundaries, or Mei Ito, who seemed to have cultivated an actual, adoring fan club at her table … but she took comfort in the fact that at least she wasn’t as bad as Elijah.

She grabbed a menu and headed for table ten, reading the little gold plaques above the arched entrances to each room until she found the right one. Except, there was nobody there.

“They’re probably late,” Ethan said when she returned to the bar. “I think that one was an online booking. We put up your pictures last night for people to pre-book.”

Behind him, Moses was glaring at a girl who had approached the bar. “We’d like to request Kane, please—uh, I mean … the other Kane.”

Rude .

“Where’s the—” Moses started to ask, but Ethan was already pulling a list from his pocket.

“Kane’s waitlist,” he said, slapping the list down. “Might as well leave it on the bar.”

Isobel slipped away and sat at her assigned table, because if she had to stand behind the bar while people told Moses to his face that they preferred his brother, she might just turn into Gabriel and swipe everything onto the floor in a rage. While she waited, she pulled out her phone, opening up a private chat with Elijah.

Isobel: Hey.

His response was immediate, but when she poked her head out of the curtain, he was still tapping away at his tablet.

Elijah: Hey.

Isobel: Your date is terrified.

Elijah: Sounds like she knows what’s good for her.

Isobel: Theo, Kili, Kalen, and Cian are fighting for their lives out there and you’re …

Isobel: What are you doing?

Elijah: Playing Solitaire.

Isobel: Liar.

Elijah: I’m updating my blog.

Isobel: Liar.

Elijah: I was making a bingo sheet of everything that could possibly go wrong before our shift was over. Since then, I’ve just been ticking things off and writing notes on exactly how it happened.

Isobel: I wish that was a lie.

Isobel: Will we get into trouble for this?

Elijah: We are who we are. That’s why people like us. It’s in the officials’ best interests not to shape, mould, and beat us into just another set of cookie-cutter Icons. We turned up. We’ll continue to turn up. They may give us a lecture, but I promise you, this is all part of the package they’re selling.

Isobel: You mean they expected this to happen?

Elijah: Of course.

Elijah: Theodore and Kilian will attract people who want to be charmed, who genuinely want their celebrity crushes to look at them and really see them, even if it’s an act. Cian will attract people who … are horny. Oscar will attract people who mistakenly think they can change someone as psychotic and unhinged as he is. If someone books me, it’s for the challenge of getting someone like me to acknowledge them. This girl? I won’t say a word to her, and she’ll be back next week.

Isobel: That’s messed up. I wouldn’t come back if you ignored me.

Elijah: You would force me to pay attention.

Isobel: Yeah, that’s me. Forcing Alphas to bend to my will. Been doing it my whole life.

Elijah: You would sit there with those big eyes and those perfect legs and that sweet fucking smell and I’d have to pay attention.

Isobel: What does she smell like?

Elijah: Coffee. And yes, that was before the seventeen coffees she ordered.

Isobel: Do you at least know her name?

Elijah: I think it was Erica.

Elijah: No, Ellen.

Elijah: Elizabeth.

Elijah: Edith.

Elijah: Ethel?

Isobel: I guarantee it wasn’t Ethel. Nobody is called Ethel.

Elijah: I asked her. She spilled coffee all over herself and then apologised to me for it? She’s a mess. Her name is Collins. Now she smells like a double-shot because she’s also wearing it.

Isobel: I can see where you got all the E-names from Collins.

Elijah: Or was it Celene?

Isobel: You can’t possibly have forgotten already. Your brain is like a vault.

Elijah: I was distracted.

Isobel: By your bingo chart?

Elijah: By that fucking dress.

Isobel: Which dress? We’re all wearing the same one.

Elijah: On them, it’s a dress. On you, it’s wet tissue. It’s putting all sorts of thoughts in my head.

Isobel: Thoughts about wet tissues?

Elijah: I have the most intense urge to grab one of these butter knives and see if it rips like wet tissue. So … yes.

Isobel flushed bright red and quickly dragged a cushion onto her lap, as though it could shield her from the tightening of her own body. Her phone vibrated with another message.

Elijah: When did you text your father?

She blinked at the screen, taken aback.

Isobel: A few hours after my session with Teak, why? He ignored my message.

Elijah: I think he wanted to respond in person.

Elijah: Let us know if you need us.

Braun Carter suddenly filled the doorway, his familiar, gold-flecked eyes taking her in with a stern, stony expression. Isobel’s body locked up in fear, her phone clattering out of her hand. She worked to get her instinctual reaction under control, but it took a moment. Her body didn’t seem to understand that she wasn’t a little girl under her father’s thumb anymore. She didn’t have to listen out for his heavy footfalls in the hallway outside her bedroom. She didn’t have to fear his wrath, his summons, or his heavy, dark emotion.

She had cut him off and proved to him that he couldn’t control her anymore.

“Daughter,” he greeted, still hovering by the curtain. “I thought we should have this conversation in person.”

“Father,” she responded, applauding her even tone. She calmly picked up her phone. “Take a seat.”

Normally, he would have snapped something in response. I’m not a dog. Do not direct me .

Instead, he sat, still eyeing her. “Your message said that you wanted surrogate pills and you wanted to make a deal.”

“That’s right.”

“I thought the pills didn’t work for you?”

“I’m offering a deal, not an explanation.”

He frowned, his heavy frustration battering up against her chest. It wasn’t the only thing emanating from him. There was also guilt, sorrow, and a humiliation that felt dark and dangerous.

“What are you offering in exchange for the pills?” he demanded.

“What do you want?” she countered because, in truth, she wasn’t sure what she could offer him.

“I want things to go back to normal,” he said immediately. “I want regular, weekly updates. By email or phone is fine. I want a copy of the contract you signed with the Ironside recording label?—”

“You won’t like it,” she snorted. Maybe she was testing him.

Temper briefly flashed in his eyes, but he sucked in a deep, tempering breath. “I might have been able to negotiate something better for you.”

“You don’t know my situation,” she countered. “You don’t know me . How could you possibly think you’re in a position to negotiate for my best interests?”

“I’m not fucking stupid, Isobel.” He sucked in another deep breath. “I’ve pieced it together. I know why you’re doing this—this whole group thing, and I know you better than you think. You’re half me and half your mother, following the exact same path in life that I took. I know what you’re experiencing. At Ironside. In here .” He waved around the room. “I understand you better than you think.”

“Maybe you do.” She sighed, her attention drifting to the curtain. It was open just enough for her to lock eyes with Mikel, who was hovering nearby, pretending to wipe down the bar, mismatched eyes trained on her with unwavering intensity. “Or maybe you don’t. So, what else? You want weekly updates?”

“I want you to run major marketing decisions by me,” he said, once again without thought. He had decided all his demands ahead of time. “I’m not asking for full control, but I want to know what you’re planning, and I want open discourse so that I can help.”

“Help, how?”

He rolled his eyes. “I know you hate me right now … you’ve probably hated me since your mother died. But don’t let what you think of me cloud the reality of who I am. I’m Braun Carter. I know the entertainment industry inside and out. I have contacts . I have information . I know how things work, and I know how to make things happen. I know when something is a bad idea and what the consequences will be. I know how to move forward when it looks like you’re out of options. I’m the guy you want on your side.”

“I wonder how many guys have said that to stupid little girls like me,” she said, levelling her gaze on his and refusing to look away.

He didn’t bother to argue with her or to correct her statement because he had said it himself: he knew the industry inside and out. He knew the “guys” she was talking about, and he knew that they saw most women as “stupid little girls.” Her father wasn’t a sexual predator, but that didn’t make him less of a predator. It didn’t make him less of a misogynist or a privileged asshole.

It didn’t make him less of a problem.

Still, he didn’t argue. She had to give him that. He didn’t get defensive; he just watched her and absorbed her statement.

“I …” He suddenly swallowed, looking uncomfortable. “I thought maybe that wouldn’t happen to you because you’re a Sigma.”

She scoffed, not deigning to even respond to that comment.

“As an Alpha,” he continued, looking uncomfortable, “I was somewhat of a commodity. Everyone wanted a piece of me because I was so rare—I was the only Alpha at Ironside the entire time I was here. I had Dorm A to myself and all the attention of the clients in here. There was always someone wanting to pay for my time or attention or someone trying to manipulate me, and it was all because I was an Alpha. I just … I thought they might leave you alone because now they have ten Alphas to choose from.” Before she could even digest his words, he was holding up a hand, warding off her response. “I’m wrong. I see that now. I watched your performance last night, by the way. People want you just as much as the Alphas, maybe even more. I just don’t want what happened to me to happen to you. Despite everything, you’re still my daughter. I always wondered if it was worth it and sometimes I even thought it was … but realising you might go through those same things has changed my mind. Some things aren’t worth winning the game.”

Some things aren’t worth winning the game .

She never could have guessed those words would ever come out of her father’s mouth, and it made her stomach curdle, thinking of what might have happened.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, brow furrowing. “You’re just confusing me.”

“I’m talking about this .” He lightly slapped the table. “The Stone Dahlia. The way they use their top students as prizes, as lures, as fringe benefits. Nothing is forbidden. Nothing is off-limits. They might pretend it is, but the more in demand you are, the more in danger you become.”

“I see.” She folded her hands in her lap.

He seemed to shrug off his own words like he didn’t want to think about them anymore. “That’s my deal. Take it or leave it. I’ll give you a steady supply of surrogate pills …” He pulled up the gift bag he had walked in with, sliding it across the table. “And in return, I want weekly updates, and I want to be kept in the loop about all contracts you sign, all major marketing decisions … and I want to know the moment things change with your role in here.”

“Change how?” Isobel ignored the gift bag.

“If they start arranging private meetings with clients. Outside of these public spaces, I mean.” He gestured to the cafe. “If they book you one-on-one time with a client in a private room.”

“I need to clear it with the others,” she said, picking up her phone again. “Since this affects the group.”

He watched her wordlessly, offering no opinion where previously he would have raged over the fact that she had tied herself so tightly to the Alphas.

Isobel: My father wants weekly updates in exchange for the pills. Over email or phone. And he wants to be consulted before I sign any more contracts.

Elijah: Is that all?

Isobel: More or less. I can fill you in later.

Elijah: I suppose this is acceptable since you can email him updates. Kalen?

Mikel (admin): He’s busy dodging hands, but this is okay. As long as it’s okay with you, Isobel.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” she said, reaching for the gift bag.

“That supply should last you a few months,” he said, nodding toward the bag. “Call me if you need more.”

She debated how she would slip Teak the pills when her sessions were being recorded. She didn’t want to hide them inside a gift because she wasn’t sure if the officials would try to search anything she gave the bond specialist. Instead, she dumped all the pills into a Ziplock bag and covered it in several layers of tape to make it watertight. She tucked the little package up the sleeve of her jacket and stopped by the dining hall before her session, preparing two takeaway coffees. She surreptitiously dropped the pills into one of the cups before filling it with coffee. The top of the package still poked out of the liquid, but at least it wouldn’t make a rattling sound in the cup. She squeezed a lid onto it, tucked it atop her other coffee, and made her way to the appointment.

Teak looked even worse than last time.

Isobel was seriously worried that she might not last.

“You’re still sick?” she managed to sound surprised before quickly handing over one of the cups. “I picked you up a coffee.”

“Oh, you didn’t need to do that.” Teak’s voice was completely devoid of emotion. The table beside her chair was overflowing with tissues, and she hadn’t bothered to turn on the light again. Her hair was unwashed and unbrushed, her fingers trembling around the cup.

“Tell me more about the bond,” she said, jumping straight into the questions. “I’d love to know what makes an eleven-person bond unique compared to the traditional bonded pair.”

And so their dance started again.

Isobel answered each of her questions, only sometimes truthfully, always twisting the answer to make herself and the Alphas sound as uninteresting as possible, trying to make their bond as boring and uneventful as possible. She framed each of her statements to make it obvious that her only priority was succeeding and making money—and that the Alphas were in the same mindset. She ignored when Teak randomly started crying and kept speaking when Teak frowned at her coffee, lifting the lid to look inside. Teak replaced the lid without reacting, shifting to rest the cup on the table.

By the time the session ended, Isobel’s nerves were fried, her head aching from having to put so much effort and care into every single word she uttered. She performed sluggishly in the rest of her classes, fumbling at the piano with Elijah and making several mistakes during her vocal lesson with Mikel in the evening. After wrapping up her pre-dinner practice sessions, she dragged herself back to the dorm and put herself through a shower.

She blamed her exhaustion on the fact that she zoned out while brushing her teeth, her eyes riveted to the golden roses in the crystal vases fixed to the wall on either side of her bathroom mirror. She often found herself vacantly staring at the pretty soul artefacts, wondering if she should touch them, but it felt like such a risk. The chain had crawled up her chest and embedded into her skin. What would the roses do?

At first, it just didn’t seem wise to tempt their luck with everything hanging in the balance and so many eyes on them. They didn’t have the time or resources to mitigate another disaster. But now? Now that they were safe?

She found herself staring at them more often.

Touching them.

She would pluck one of them out of the vase just to hold the stem in her hand, wary of the sharp thorns that seemed to beg for her to bleed on them.

She blamed her exhaustion for how long she stared at them that night, only snapping out of her trance when Cian snuck into her room an hour later. She glanced down, noticing she had dropped her toothbrush into the sink at some point. With a frown, she quickly finished up in the bathroom as Cian stretched out on her bed. He wore a pair of light-grey sweats that had her immediately forgetting her exhaustion. They were slung low on his hips, his shirt wrinkled up to show a few inches of tantalising golden skin.

“Not so fast,” he warned, catching the look in her eye, his own eyes sparkling with a heart-thumping mix of humour and adoration. “Oscar will be here any moment.”

“Huh?” She turned off the bathroom light and dropped onto the bed beside him, reaching over him to grab the remote for the TV. She had a few Ironside episodes to catch up on and needed to stay on top of things. He smelled amazing fresh out of the shower. Like salt and sun and warmth. As her chest brushed his arm and she pulled back with the remote, his scent warmed further, and both of their breaths seemed to shorten.

Cian smirked. “He said, and I quote, ‘I need someone in there to kill the sexual tension.’”

“And he chose … you?” Isobel laughed.

“He’s so dumb. Come here.” He grabbed her, rolling her beneath him, and she bit back another chuckle.

“I have to catch up on Ironside . I’m falling so far behind.”

“I’ll give you a recap.” His lips skimmed her throat, his cock already hardening against her thigh. “They’re desperately trying to make the fifth-years interesting, but nobody cares. They think Ellis and James are fake bitches for moving on from Gabe and Elijah so quickly, but let’s be honest, they’re getting attention so they’re probably happy.” His hot mouth dragged over her collarbone, making her moan. He nipped her skin in response, his voice turning husky. “Also, people think the officials came up with the group rule to deal with the backlash they got for introducing humans into the game. People are saying they formed the human group so that they only have one chance to take the winning spot from a Gifted contestant instead of six chances.” He slid down, pushing up her pyjama top, breath misting the skin of her stomach. “They’re obsessed with Niko’s new look. His whole moody grump thing is somehow cultivating a weird little cult following.” He pushed her top up higher, revealing her piercing, which he began to pepper with kisses. He had almost reached the top of the chain and bared her breasts when the door opened and Oscar stalked inside, already looking pissed off.

He slammed the door and Cian smirked against her skin.

“The fuck?” Oscar snarled. “This is the exact opposite of what I asked you to do.”

“You just asked me to be here.” Cian climbed up her body, nuzzling into her neck and making her giggle. “It’s your fault for assuming it would kill the vibe. I create the vibe.”

“I can’t have sex with her again, Cian.” Oscar all but snarled the words.

Cian didn’t so much as flinch, scraping his teeth over her jaw. “So? Watch. I don’t care. You need to get over it. Isobel is over it, aren’t you, doll?”

“Totally over it.” She gripped his broad shoulders, laughing again as he switched to the other side of her neck. As he sucked on her skin, the laugh tapered off into a moan. “Kalen cured me.”

Cian picked up his head, arching a brow at her. “Oh, we’re talking about the night you tried to scream down Dorm A, are we?”

She bit her lip, her face flushing red. “No. Go back to what you were doing.”

Cian chuckled, suddenly rearing back. He roughly spun her around, his palm landing heavily across her ass. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

She hid her face against her pillow, trying to muffle another laugh even as heat curled in her stomach. She arched her back a little, pressing back against his hand as he lowered it to rest against the swell of her ass. He fiddled with the lacy hem of her pyjama pants.

“I’ve never seen these before,” he noted, voice deep and hungry.

“I can feel your need from here,” Oscar spoke lowly.

She could feel him as well. A heavy emotion thumped up against her. It felt like … torture . Maybe they shouldn’t be teasing Oscar like this. Not that she was doing it deliberately; Cian was just very good at distracting her.

As if sensing her change of emotion, Cian eased from the backs of her thighs, and he flopped onto the bed beside her again, bundling her into his side as he reached for the remote without a word.

Oscar blew out a hard breath, cautiously approaching the other side of her bed. He sat. He lowered to his back, staring at the ceiling, his arms limp by his sides.

“This is pathetic,” Cian grumbled, his eyes trained on the TV screen across the room. It was above the fireplace, but they could still mostly see it.

She hit his stomach, but he only caught her hand, holding it in his lap. Right over where he was still hard.

Oscar didn’t respond to Cian’s dig. He didn’t even seem to be breathing . She cast him a quick, worried look, and then dared to nudge him with her foot.

He ignored her.

Cian smirked, still pretending to watch the show, and Isobel poked Oscar again, using her toe to prod his thigh. His head suddenly fell to the side, dark eyes narrowing on her face.

“What?” he asked roughly.

“I’m not made of glass, you know.”

Oscar felt the bolt of lust that tightened his body at those words from her pretty pink lips—lips he remembered kissing over and over in the shower as he fully wrapped himself in her delectable pussy for the first time. But that was before .

Before he looked up and saw the horror in her eyes as he lost control.

Isobel had never been truly terrified of him until that moment. She often told him he was scaring her, but her scent always gave her away. It remained sweet, even when she trembled in his hands.

Until that night.

That night, her scent shrivelled and soured. It was chipped wood and butchered fruit. His chest tightened as he recalled it, and the lust inside him died. He had always gotten off on fear, on hurting people. Fucked up as it was, that was just him. But … Isobel wasn’t just anyone .

She was the little Sigma who had stitched herself into his soul and habitually threatened to tear herself from him in permanent ways. He had faced the possible loss of her too many times to treat this casually. It wasn’t casual. It was high fucking stakes. If someone else hurt her, he would kill them.

Plain and simple.

If she wanted him to tear out another eye, or kick in a kneecap, or rip off an arm, or remove a few fingers, he would do it, no questions asked.

But sex?

After the incident?

That might be asking for too much.

Because what could he possibly do if he was the one hurting her?

“Why is this not a problem for you?” He found the words slipping out of him in a sudden snarl, his eyes on the side of Cian’s smug, smirking, punchable face.

“Every night when I go to bed, I pray for a magical cock lock,” he drawled in return. “I’d trade everything I own for the ability to trap Isobel on my dick until I’m ready to release her.”

Oscar barely suppressed an eye roll. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Isobel was biting her lip, her pretty eyes still on Oscar, her cheeks flooded with colour. He could feel her every emotion through the bond, so he knew she was morbidly excited by what Cian had said.

His breathing picked up. He loved that deviant side to her. But no. He fought down his reaction again. Her little foot flicked out, poking him in the thigh again. This time, he caught her ankle, deciding to keep her leg prisoner.

“You won’t break me,” she whispered.

“Are you actually asking me to fuck you right now?” he drawled back, hoping his crass question would dissuade her.

Her eyes traced his features. “This isn’t about sex. This is about you acting like you can’t even look at me or touch me. You said I was yours.”

His dick filled with blood so fast it made his head spin. He sucked in a breath.

It should have bothered him that she was curled up with another man, her head resting on his arm, his hand resting on her hip, while reminding Oscar that she was his. But it didn’t.

Hearing her next door with Cian or Kilian or Theodore made him feel homicidal with rage, but right now, in just this one moment, he was grateful that Cian was there. He was anchoring Isobel. Calming her. Keeping her safe and happy, her scent soft and sweet, while Oscar worked on his shit.

“You are mine,” he rumbled.

Cian cleared his throat, unable to help himself. Isobel’s lips curled up at the sides.

“I just want the old Oscar back,” she said quietly.

Cian interjected again. “Said nobody, ever.”

She began to turn, already raising her hand to hit his stomach again, but Cian caught her wrist. She flopped onto her back, raising her other hand. Oscar caught it, instinct kicking in before he could stop it.

She glanced between them. “I can only be one person’s prisoner.”

“Liar.” Cian grinned down at her. “You’ve been my and Kilian’s prisoner. Kilian and Theo’s prisoner. My and Theo?—”

“We get the goddam picture,” Oscar interrupted.

“Don’t judge me.” Isobel pouted at him. “Apparently, I have a high sex drive.”

“How high?” Oscar demanded, even though his rage was threatening to surface at the idea of her with anyone else. “How are you able to take so much Alpha cock in your little Sigma pussy, hm? Night after night? Hour after hour? Doesn’t it hurt, baby?”

Cian groaned, his head dropping to the pillow. “You did not just say that,” he whined, words muffled. He still hadn’t released Isobel’s wrist. “You are such a sick fuck.”

Oscar ignored him, watching the way Isobel’s teeth dug into her full lower lip.

“It’s painful, but I like it,” she admitted.

“Great, I’m hard again,” Cian complained, face still mashed into the pillow. He lifted up, edging closer to the Sigma trapped between them, whose smile was threatening to appear again at his antics. “Are you going to do something about this? Because I’m not feeling particularly patient.”

“I don’t know how to share,” Oscar said honestly.

“Don’t overthink it,” Cian said, rolling over Isobel and releasing her wrist.

Isobel felt the first flutter of nerves as Cian shoved her legs apart, sitting back on his heels to drink her in. He was the least gentle of her three men. Him and Oscar at the same time might be biting off more than she could chew. She wasn’t left to dwell on the thought for long as Cian gripped her thighs, his thumbs brushing dangerously close to her centre.

“Are you already wet, baby?” he asked like he didn’t know the answer.

It was his superpower, knowing the moment she got excited.

She nodded, her body trembling as he backed away, and got off the bed, standing there with his sweatpants tented obscenely.

“Prove it,” he purred. “Show him.”

She found Oscar’s free hand, his dark eyes fixed on her face as she moved his hand to her stomach. He twitched but didn’t pull away. She could see him warring with his control, but Cian knew her.

He knew that breaking their control was her favourite game.

God, she loved that man.

Liked him.

What the fuck?

Shoving away the errant thoughts, she encouraged Oscar’s rough hand to slide down over the silk of her pyjama top, toward the waistband of her shorts.

“I haven’t seen this before either.” Oscar’s voice was a low, tortured rasp as he eyed her pyjama set.

“You can ruin it if you like,” she said. “I have more.”

His hand fisted, halting her progress. “Carter,” he warned.

Cian gripped the top canopy of her bed, leaning in, eyes intense. “Didn’t I tell you to do something, doll?”

She pressed against Oscar’s hand, and with a grunt, he gave up his resistance, allowing her to push his fingers past her silk waistband and into her panties. They both groaned as their fingers hit the warm, wet mess Cian had created with all his teasing.

“Go ahead and press one of his fingers into your greedy little pussy,” Cian said. “Show him what he’s missing.”

Oscar didn’t react to Cian’s dirty words at all, his eyes searching for secrets in her face as he still wrestled with the control she attempted to tease away from him, his fingers following hers as she forced one inside her. Oscar groaned, his head ducking to her neck, roughly biting her tattoo, releasing it only to suck her flesh just as roughly.

But he didn’t move his finger. He refused to participate past what she directed with her own hands.

“Feel good, doll?” Cian rasped, watching as she arched up in pleasure.

“Yes,” she panted as Oscar licked over the marks he had made on her neck before shifting down an inch and doing it again.

It wasn’t the same as when she was with her other guys at the same time. When she was with them, the focus was still on her, but they were a little more collaborative, helping each other to hold her down or tease her. It was an unspoken rule that they were allowed to cross certain boundaries—like touching her at the same time or pushing into her seconds after one of them had just pulled out of her.

With Cian and Oscar, it was very different. It was almost like they didn’t exist to each other. Like they couldn’t see or hear each other, even though they obviously could. They were hyper-focussed on her, locked into a scene with her alone, unable to help but give her the pleasure she so badly wanted.

It felt very intense.

“Did that not work, baby?” Cian asked with false sympathy. “Are you still not being fucked? Maybe you should try adding another finger.”

As soon as she applied the slightest bit of pressure to Oscar’s finger, trying to push it into her slippery entrance, he growled and ripped away her shorts and panties.

“You want to get fucked, Carter?” he snarled, flipping her around and tugging up her hips, pushing her face down into the mattress. “You want me to fucking lose control? You better thank me before you pass out, little girl.”

When Oscar lost control, he really lost control. He didn’t hesitate or prolong this moment of uncertainty while he teased and taunted her the way she had him. He just shoved into her, right to the hilt, hitting her too deep on the first thrust and making her hiccup a sound of shock and pain as she quickly gripped the covers. She wanted to yell one of her words and claim it was too much, but the adrenaline rush from the shock and pain made her immediately dizzy with lust.

Cian appeared in front of her as Oscar pushed into her again just as violently, making her almost scream—almost, because Cian had slapped a hand over her mouth just in time.

“ Tsk ,” he chastised, smoothing the messy hair back from her temples as Oscar delivered another punishing thrust, holding too deep inside her and squeezing her ass into a punishing grip, flexing his fingers like touching her there was his new favourite thing.

“We should keep it quiet in here,” Cian said. “Don’t want a repeat of the other night. Open up, sweetheart.”

She parted her lips, and as soon as she did, Oscar picked up his pace, almost as though he was deliberately trying to make the sound slip out of her throat. Cian freed his erection, the tip already damp and swollen, looking desperate for her tongue to soothe it as he slid into her mouth with a soft moan. His piercing was cold while his flesh was hot, the slow glide of him in and out of her mouth a direct contrast to the brutality of Oscar’s pounding.

“Fuck,” Cian groaned, his palms on her cheeks. “You’re crying, and it’s not from me. I’m being gentle here, aren’t I, baby?”

She felt Oscar twitch inside her and heard him groan behind her, one of his hands releasing her ass to reach between them, giving her pulsing clit all the attention she needed to spiral toward an orgasm. She tried to cry out, but Cian’s cock gagged her. Oscar’s nails dug into the skin of her ass, and fear shot through her for a moment as he thickened and stilled, grinding so deep into her that it was almost painful as he came, spilling heat inside her.

“It’s okay,” Cian whispered, still slowly dragging his cock across her tongue, his hands gently stroking her face. “It’s all right. I’m here … you’re safe. Shit … baby … you suck harder when you’re coming.”

Oscar pulled halfway out of her. Just enough to ease up on the pressure, but still holding himself inside as she finished clenching around him, savouring the lingering effects of her orgasm. He released her ass cheek, delivering her a sharp, stinging slap, the sound echoing around the room.

Cian’s breath hissed through his teeth, his uncharacteristically gentle stroking inside her mouth bringing him close, his fingers tunnelling into her hair as he began to lose control, pulling her faster onto his length, pressing deeper until he was properly fucking her mouth. He hit the back of her throat and traced his fingers down her neck, just lightly massaging it as he grunted, pulsing with his own orgasm. He didn’t let up until he was done. When he finally pulled out, she coughed and gasped for breath. Oscar shifted off the bed, and she heard him in the bathroom.

“Sorry, Illy.” Cian pouted with false sympathy, kneeling beside the bed as she collapsed. “I forgot to be gentle.” He kissed each of her cheeks, where her tears still stained her skin.

“You’re not sorry.” She groaned, flicking out a weak arm to hit him.

“Neither are you,” he whispered against her ear. “Maybe my girl wants it rough more often, hm?”

She yawned, wriggling her body a little like she could shake off the bolt of heat that shot through her at his whispered threat.

“Okay, give me a year to recover,” she joked.

Except, she wasn’t joking.

Oscar returned with a damp cloth, his silky boxers tugged haphazardly back over his hips, his dark eyes serious as he surveyed her and Cian before settling on her ass, which was currently presented to him as she lay curled on her side facing Cian.

“I hurt you,” he said lowly.

She glanced down at herself, noticing that bruises were already forming, and there were small, red, half-crescent marks from his nails.

This felt like a defining moment for them, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to handle it.

“My screaming didn’t give it away?” she asked, deciding to choose humour.

His attention flickered back to her face, taking in her sleepy, sated expression and the small, teasing smile on her swollen lips. He hovered there, perhaps also feeling what she had felt, that they were on the cusp of a defining moment … and then he decided.

He got onto the bed and gently turned her to her back, leaning over to kiss her as he pressed the cloth between her legs. “I won’t hold back next time,” he promised darkly.