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Hunter doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word. He’s behind us, leaning against the frame, arms crossed. Watching. I know what she’s hoping. That he’ll say something. Step in. But he won’t. He’s here for the show.

I wedge a knee between her thighs, spreading her apart, then hook a finger inside her, pushing in deep. The gasp that rushes from her is desperate and panicked, making my cock twitch.

“How tight is she?” he asks, moving closer. He bends, getting an eyeful of her pussy.

“Tight as that collar around her throat.” The tension in her walls is still there; she’ll stay that way for a while. More reason to fuck her good while she’s like this. Her knees buckle and I catch her, hold her steady, letting her weight fall back against me. “Don’t fade out on me yet, doll baby.”

“Damon,” she begs, “I can’t–”

“You can and will.” I press a kiss to her temple, then drag my tongue across the edge of her ear. “I’ve protected you, haven’t I? I’ve waited. I’ve played nice for the King. For you. Not anymore.”

I unzip my jeans, pull myself out, hard and angry in my fist. Pre-cum builds at the tip and I rub it with my thumb. I grind against her, sliding along her slickness without pushing in. “Look at us,” I growl, staring into the mirror. “You, bent over like this. Me, finally getting what I earned. What should have been mine that night in the woods.”

A small noise escapes her throat. She doesn’t answer.

I don't need her to.

I grip her hips and thrust inside.

Finally.

I exhale as she tenses, body jerking. The move makes her tits bounce and fuck, I slam into her again to see them rise and fall. A cry rips from her mouth, and I almost come right then. She’s too tight, too raw,too fucking good. I hiss through my teeth and grip the edge of the counter, steadying myself.

“Shhh,” I whisper, rocking into her again. “I know. I know. You can take it.”

Her fingers go white around the sink edge. Her eyes are locked on the mirror, locked onme. I don’t look away. I want her to see me while I’m inside of her.

Hunter shifts, standing up straight. His jaw’s tight, hands in his pockets. I fist her hair and yank her head back just enough to whisper against her neck, “You were made for this, weren’t you? To be used.”

“No,” she sobs, “I was made for him.”

“But he doesn’t want you.” Each thrust sends her forward, bumping into the porcelain. The welts across her ass slam into my pelvis. I brush my fingers over them again and she whimpers.

“You like the pain.” Hunter licks his bottom lip. “Don’t lie.”

She shakes her head. It’s barely a motion. Almost pitiful. But her body’s giving her away. Tight and soaking, clenching around me like she doesn’t want to let me go. Her legs keep buckling, but I don’t let her fall. I just keep using her the way she’s meant to be used. Over and over, whenever I want.

“Tell him the truth.”

“I like it,” she grinds out. “I deserve it.”

“Why’s that?” he asks, moving as close to her as he can without touching her. “Why do you deserve it, Baroness?”

“Because I’m bad. Wicked.” She winces when her hips hit the counter, and I hold her pinned there, trying to control myself. “Because I’m broken. No one ever wanted me at the Manor. Not my mother or my uncle or the people who came for the other children.”

Her breath hitches, sharp and uneven, fogging the mirror in front of her. She doesn’t look away from her reflection, she doesn’t dare. I see the shame flicker in her eyes, but somethingelse too. That little seed of hunger. The part of her that wants to be broken open and filled again.

Hunter leans in close to her ear, voice smooth. “What does it feel like to have DK in you?”

“He’s big,” she falls forward on her elbows. “It hurts.”

Unable to hold back any longer, he shoves his hand down his pants and grips his cock. She whimpers, biting her bottom lip hard enough to leave a mark. My hand grips her hip, fingers digging into the bruises already starting to bloom. I shouldn’t care how fragile she is, how wrecked. But I do. I care because it makes her mine in a way no wedding contract ever could.

I drag my fingers down her spine, feeling her shiver all the way to her knees. "You belong here," I remind her. "Right here, caught between pain and pleasure. Right between your Barons. That's where you're the most honest."

Hunter finally touches her, just the edge of her jaw, tilting her head slightly so she has no choice but to see the both of us in the mirror. His gaze is unreadable–dark and unreadable, but his presence is grounding, a tether between where she’s been and where she’s going.

I slide my hand between her thighs, feeling the heat of her, the slickness. “Still pretending you don’t want this?” I ask, even though we both know the answer. Her body’s betrayed her a dozen times over. And even if it didn’t, I wouldn’t stop.