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I whimper as I feel him stir, chuffing a breath into my hair as he rocks closer.

“Need something?” he asks, voice thick with sleep as he palms my breast. His skin is hot, and despite the chill in the room, I feel sweat beading up in the spaces where our skin meets. I’m not stupid. This whole thing has been one big, long tease. A way to break me down. This is a fight that’ll have only one victor.

And it won’t be me.

“Just fuck me already!” I snap.

There’s only a short pause, his chest against my back stuttering on an inhale. Before I can wipe the sleep from my eyes and regret it, he grabs my hip, pushing me onto my stomach. There’s an abrupt blast of cool air as he throws the blankets off of us, impatiently jostling me to my knees.

“Jesus,” I yelp, nightgown bunching under my armpits. “What are you—"

“Gentle, gentle,”Effie trills from under her sheet, my voice mocked back at me.

Ignoring the bird, he parts my thighs and pulls back, his cock dragging deliciously against my clenching walls.

And then he slams into me with a quick, vicious punch.

“Ah!” I cry out, fisting the sheets below me.

“Fuck yes,” he mutters, exhaling loudly. His hands grab at my nightgown, and he curls over me, yanking it easily over my head. “Say it again.”

I pant into the sheets, not bothering to raise my head. It’s better like this; hiding. “Fuck me.”

The plea emerges strained and ragged, and even though I’m expecting it when he slides back and slams into me once more, a cry still erupts from my throat, moistening the bed sheets. Shamefully, I open for him, back bowing as I meet his thrust. It’s not something I can help, my brain fogged with sleep and days of pent-up lust, and here’s the thing about Pace Ashby:

He’s so fucking good at it.

From his grip on my hips as he fucks into me to the way he feels inside, Pace works my body like he’s always known it.

Even when he roughly palms my ass, spreading me apart, his finger toying with the rim of my asshole, the teasing makes my pussy quiver, tightening around him. “I’d plug you up here if I could. Fill your pussy and your ass.” His voice is so deep that I can feel it in my marrow. “Maybe next time.”

Next time.

I have one week left in East End before I go back to the Dukes. Part of me is ready to stop walking around on my tiptoes, feeling like a monster is lurking around every corner. But the other part, the one that involves what happens in this godforsaken bed, is disgustingly disappointed.

It’s the closeness.

It has to be.

A week of Wicker’s touch. A week of Lex’s gritty breaths in my ear as he fucked me relentlessly in the dark. A week in Pace's cage, his cock nestled into me like it’s always belonged. I’ve gotten used to feeling full—either with his cock buried inside of me all night or with the plug he presses into me after he fills me with a thick stream of his cum. He’s with me all day, this constant reminder that not only is he watching—not only could I be carrying his baby—but that we’re bonded as one, whether I ask for it or not.

And now I have.

Come to think of it, maybe a break from their mind-bending touches is exactly what I need.

Until then, I take the fucking, not minding the different angle, the way the head of his cock knocks deep inside. My nipples feel extra sensitive, the cool air of the room teasing them into tight peaks. When he reaches beneath me to graze his palms over them, I groan, his touch like a current zinging down my flesh, the orgasm building.

“Tell me your perky hand-wench has some concealer that’ll match my skin color.” I recognize the tone of the voice before the source of it, bitter and impatient. When I glance over in confusion, I see Wicker striding through my door, fingers working down the buttons of his white shirt, untucked and wrinkled. His hair is pure chaos. “I need to cover this goddamn hickey.”

Startled, I freeze, but Pace… well, he doesn’t miss a stroke. Something—likely the sound of our flesh slapping together—makes Wicker’s eyes snap up, landing on us with a stuttering step. He gapes, fingers suspended over a button as his eyes flick to my tits, swaying forcefully with every thrust.

“Dude!” His furious gaze swings to Pace. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Should be obvious,” Pace replies, his arm sliding around my waist. He lifts me until I’m kneeling in front of him, lips skittering against my cheek.

Wicker’s expression turns murderous. “We said none of us would fuck her!”

“No, you declared a sexile and then had the fucking balls to break it first.” Pace never stops moving inside of me, his fingers dipping to brush over my clit. A quick glance over my shoulder reveals dark, vengeful eyes. “I mean, how long did it really take? Twenty-four hours? Forty-eight?”