33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Noelle

Shame floods my mind as a pool or wetness floods my core. As much as I may long for Lorne to debase me, I also refuse to give up control without a fight. This isn’t a fight for sexual domination, it’s a battle to see who has more control. For a man like Lorne, all this is contrary to what he’s taught. To Lorne, relinquishing control is a loss of power, something he was taught to combat from a young age as if his life depended on it.

But for me, a relationship isn’t about who’s on top and who remains at the bottom, it’s about a balance that creates stability. So as he’s fucking me against a wall to solidify his dominance, I will revel in the knowledge that I’m the only one who creates my utopia or brings about my hell.

My lungs expand and I brace myself as I peer up at the intricate woodwork layered in the arches of the cathedral.

I bite down on his neck, sucking his skin as my teeth penetrate his flesh. I’m not gentle. I don’t care to be. This man looks at me like I’m a sweet doe. He doesn’t yet understand that I can be a lioness. That’s the thing about kindness. People view it as a weakness, when it’s anything but. There’s a strength in being decent, caring for others, and showing compassion. It takes strength to be merciful when all you’ve witnessed is treachery.

With the flavor of his blood dripping on my tongue, I whisper, “Don’t assume you’re taking something I haven’t given you willingly.

“Look at you, Snow, admitting that behind the good girl demeanor, you’re nothing but a filthy whore desperate for her big brother’s cock. You turned on by the idea of your stepbrother bending you over and fucking your brains out?”

Heat floods my face, and I gaze at the lights above our heads.

“Tsk, tsk, sis. What would your daddy say if he knew his little girl was getting railed in church like a lowlife street walker?”

I grind my hips, desperate to match every powerful thrust of his hips. “I don’t know, big bro. What would your mommy say to you plowing her new daughter up against a wall like an animal?”

Lorne smirks. He lifts me off the wall and tips me back. I brace my hands for the fall, thinking he’s about to fuck me the same way Declan did that night.

But before I plummet to the ground, firm hands grip my neck and Cas’s hard cock is presented to my mouth. “Open wide, Sunshine.”

He plunges into me with force, and as much as I should focus on his movements, I peek under his Ramones T-shirt. Bile rises in my throat, not from his cock being forced down it, but from the etchings on his flesh.

“Fuck, Sunshine, I don’t know what’s better, your cunt, or your pretty little mouth.” He fucks my mouth like it’s a sex toy, with no regard to the person attached to the person he’s using for his pleasure. My breathing is almost obsolete. “The French do a lot of things right, pastries, sauces, not giving a fuck what anyone thinks of them. But the best thing they ever did was name a fucking orgasm. Le petite mort. Because every time I fuck you, it’s like a little death no one else will ever be able to satisfy.”

I gasp for breath as he pulls out. He cradles my head in his hand as streams of saliva trail from my mouth. Cas is wrong. Le petite mort isn’t a little death. The expression is far more complex.

The term expands to mean the brief loss or weakening of consciousness. Because an orgasm makes you feeble. It trips you up and you forget to think logically, which allows you to drive headfirst into something which could be malignant. But the endorphins are so palatable that you don’t care how it engulfs you.

Cas gazes at me and the madness always lurking in his eyes has vanished, replaced by tenderness.

“Why do you have so many letters carved into your skin?”

My question is like turning off a light switch. The tender Cas isn’t there anymore. The beast returns. He drives his cock into my mouth so hard that I believe I might vomit.

“They’re the roadmap of my life, Sunshine. They’re the demons I run from and the evil that drives me.”

I move a hand to the hem of his T-shirt, slowly lifting the fabric. What I’m doing is like detonating a bomb. One false move and Cas could explode, taking me with him.

Language has meaning. Words can be a balm to soothe your soul or daggers launched at your heart. So as I read every jagged, healed scar on Cas’s chest, it rips my heart into tatters. Whore. Ungrateful. Idiot. Loser. Slut. Cum dump. Worthless.

Tears stream down my face and then I see it. Property of Sunshine. The only words that haven’t scabbed over and healed. The only words fresh on his pelvis with an arrow pointing to his dick.

Cas grips my neck, picking up his pace, and he lodges his cock more viciously in my mouth. “Sunshine, the only time I want to make you cry is when you’re gagging on my cock.”

His thrusts are punishing and soothing, a contradiction like the man himself. I drop the hem of his shirt and let it fall above my forehead as I grip his ass for support and lose myself in my body, being fully controlled by these men.

“Be a good girl and take every drop.” He holds my face down, my nose directly on the arrow carved into his flesh. He groans and unleashes in waves in the back of my throat.

Lorne grips my hips, his grunts sounding more like a beast than a man. He pulls me to him. “I’m going to fill this pretty cunt, Snow. I’m going to fuck you raw for the rest of our lives and drown you in cum.”

His fingers move to my clit, and he rotates the pad of his thumb. Fuck, this man knows his way around a woman’s vagina. I moan as my body once again comes for him as if on demand.

“Get over here, Lorne, Hold her shoulders,” Cas demands.

Lorne grips beneath my arms and hoists me up while Cas grips my ass, leveling it with his mouth. “Cum and blood. There’s nothing better.”

His mouth is on me as he laps with abandon. Cas devours me like he’s never going to have another meal. It’s wild, untamed, and completely feral. Once again, my body is spun tight into a fevered frenzy until I come undone in waves of ecstasy.

“Fuck, Sunshine. This damn pussy.”

Lorne places me on the pew and turns to Cas. He grips his cock and points it toward him. “You’re not done yet.”

Cas winks, a devilish glint in his eyes, and falls to his knees. His hand grips Lorne’s balls as his lips slide over his semi-hard, blood-stained dick.

I sit, eyes glued on two of the three men I love, and my heart aches for the third. “I want to see Declan.”