Page 63 of Barons of Decay (Royals of Forsyth University #10)

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 on me . 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 something else 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.

She shakes her head again, this time slower. No more lies. No more pretending.

“Good girl,” I whisper, and watch the words strike her like a match. She closes her eyes, lips parting, breath catching again.

I hold her there in that stillness, not moving, not speaking, just breathing her in.

Her pussy trembles around me, the telltale sign she’s ready for release.

“You want it don’t you?” I stroke my hand down her hair, then around her body to the metal bar.

I pull sharply and feel her pussy squeeze in return.

“You want to come on my cock, release all this pent up dirtiness you're carrying inside.” I glance at Hunter, who looks as frustrated as I think she feels, his cock is in his hand now, and he strokes slowly up and down his shaft. “If it was just me and you, I’d let you suffer, but it’s not.

It’s your lucky day, doll baby. Let’s give your Baron what he wants. ”

I pull back, almost fully out, before punching back in, this time faster, picking up the pace.

Her breath breaks–sharp, shallow. She shakes her head, but her body tells the truth.

I feel it tightening around me, pulsing.

Her knuckles bend, nails digging into the porcelain as if it could hold her together. But nothing will. Not after this.

“That’s it,” I whisper against her throat, gripping tighter. “Give in. Be good for me, just once.”

And she does. Her body jerks, surrendering with a strangled cry that she tries to muffle against her shoulder. I don’t let her. I want Hunter to hear every sound. Every broken gasp.

She tenses around me, that hot little pussy strangling me with tight little clenches. I’m loud when I come, a groan rumbling deep in my chest. It’s like I’m releasing everything I’ve been holding onto for weeks.

We’re both hot, sticky with sweat, our bodies both tight and loose. I pull out, wet and slippery, and grab a towel off a hook on the wall.

Hunter’s still got his cock in his hand, stroking slowly. I lift an eyebrow. “You going next?”

He shakes his head, and Arianette’s holding herself up by draping her body over the counter. Their eyes meet, and he just says, “Turn around.” She moves slowly, but follows his order, her chest rising and falling. “Get on the counter.”

“I can’t,” she says, looking half dead. She winces as she moves, the pain from the welts probably worse than before.

“You can, and you will,” Hunter tells her, and even though I don’t think she has what it takes to leverage herself I watch as she lifts herself up, those pretty little tits swaying with every move.

I’m going to fuck them next.

For now, I step back, letting Hunter move close in front of her.

“Spread apart,” he says, eyes hazy, but zeroed in on her pussy.

Her fingers slip through the sticky wetness, the cum I left behind.

Their eyes hold as he jerks off, hand moving along his shaft, his thumb rolling over the tip, spreading fluid with every pass.

He never touches her. It’s just the sight of her like this turning him on. The red-rimmed eyes. The messy hair. The welts imprinted in her flesh. She’s a terror, but she’s our terror, and that’s what makes this so incredibly hot.

It’s on those slick lips that he comes, thick and ropey, dripping all over her pussy. My dick twitches, wanting to be a part of it, wanting to go at her again. Wanting to take everything we can. It’s a compulsion. An all-consuming need.

But I let them have their moment, this time the observer, and watch this ruined girl slump back on the counter. We've broken her with both our bodies and words, shattering her with every thrust until there’s only one thing left for us to do.

Pick up the pieces, and do it again.