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I grunt, the sound low and damn near feral, as Rhys grinds our rigid lengths together through the flimsy barrier separating us. Fucking hell, this position is utter bollocks—no leverage to work my hips and slam upwards into that heavenly tightness clenching around us. Trapped and immobile, completely at Rhys’ mercy as he sets a brutal pace with his hips.

Briar hangs suspended above me like a fallen angel, all flushed curves and desperation. Eyelids fluttering low, mouth parted obscenely around Hayes thick cock, drool dripping from her chin to patter against my shoulder in a lewd rhythm. Thank Christ I left my shirt on—the sodden fabric will just soak it all in so I can burn the damned thing later.

Despite her predicament, Briar is hanging tough, chest heaving with each shallow inhale as she fights to gulp down precious oxygen. And bloody fucking hell, those tits of hers… Full, ripe handfuls swaying with every punishing thrust, the dusky rose peaks just begging for attention. I nearly give in to the urge to lean up and lave my tongue across one taut bud, desperate for a taste.

My fingers trail down the slick expanse of her ribs, cataloguing every quivering tremble wrecking that lithe frame. I palm the worn leather hilt of my blade, the one still sheathed at my waist, tugging it free in a rasping hiss of steel against leather. Rhys’ head snaps up at the sound, his hand shooting out to still my movements as dark eyes swing between the glinting metal and my face, forehead creased with obvious confusion.

I purse my lips and twist my forearm, freeing it from the iron vice he’d clamped around my wrist. Flashing him a pointed look, I curl a possessive hand around the flare of Briar’s hip and drag the razor’s edge through her flesh in one slow, excruciating path. A raw sob punches from those parted lips as the first blossom of crimson bubbles up along the shallow laceration, Briar’s brow furrowing while fresh tears leak from beneath her tightly screwed lids.

The acrid stench of copper assaults my nostrils, a foul taste coating the back of my tongue as new bile burns like acid in my throat. Rhys lets loose a litany of muttered curses, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists where they brace his weight on either side of Briar’s ribcage. But if the little bird doesn’t emerge with some kind of visible damage after this twisted ritual, Hansley will know we took it easy on her.

With that sobering thought echoing through my skull, I let the wicked sharp edge of the blade ghost down the centre of Briar’s abdomen, gouging a fresh welt of crimson with every inch. Shallow enough to avoid too much scarring, but deep enough for the sting to linger as a lasting reminder. We can’t afford any more of the old cunt’s suspicion than we already risk.

Briar whimpers softly, back bowing as another tremor wracks her frame—whether from pain or pleasure at Rhys’ relentless driving, I can’t be certain. But Hayes breaks first, voice rough and strained where he mouths a curse against Jace’s shoulder, hips snapping forward in a jerky stutter.

I lose myself there for a while, trading off inflicting a fresh litany of petty lacerations scattered across those toned curves with watching the other blokes rut into Briar. As much as I loathe admitting it, there’s a twisted sort of artistry in how Rhys moves—the controlled roll of his hips and those corded muscles flexing beneath sweat-slicked skin. Bloody peacock knows he’s being watched, putting on a right show, the smug fucker.

Eventually, shallow rivulets of scarlet seep down from the lattice of scores criss-crossing Briar’s skin, staining the sun-kissed flesh and pooling in the hollows of her abdomen. Only then do I toss the blade aside, allowing my free hand to ghost through that tacky crimson, smearing it in a macabre trail down to where our bodies are joined. I can feel Rhys’ rhythm faltering, his thrusts turning erratic as Briar flutters and clenches desperately around our combined girth, no doubt savouring the sting of fresh pain mingling with her pleasure.

Fucking twisted, all of this. But then, were any of us ever truly innocent to begin with?

I groan, the sound rumbling from deep within my chest as Briar’s velvet walls flutter and clench greedily around my throbbing length. Her desperate whimpers grow more insistent, body taut as a bowstring—she’s teetering right on the knife’s edge.

Snaking my bloodied hand between our sweat-slicked forms, I seek out that tender bud nestled amid her labia with the pad of my thumb. The instant I make contact, Briar jolts with a ragged cry. I waste no time in applying firm, circular strokes, gradually increasing the pressure until she writhes beneath my merciless ministrations.

“Fuck, yes…” The guttural moan tears free before I can bite it back, layered with all the primal need roaring through my veins. My hips cant upwards in a shallow grind, cock burying that precious inch deeper into her molten depths as I coax her toward that precipice.

Briar whines in the back of her throat, the desperate sound vibrating against Hayes’ cock where it disappears between those plush lips. The bloke answers with a wrecked groan of his own, pelvis hitching in a spastic jerk that has Jace murmuring a string of filthy endearments. My focus narrows to the flex of Briar’s inner muscles, each rippling wave a sweet torture as it massages my aching shaft.

A litany of breathless curses spills from Rhys’ lips, his brow furrowing as sweat beads along his hairline. The steady roll of those hips becomes erratic, his thrusts growing wild and uncoordinated the closer he spirals toward oblivion. Feeling the first telltale pulses against my cock, I redouble my efforts, thumb working that engorged nub with almost punishing fervour.

Just… a little… more.

My free hand drifts higher, palming the succulent curve of Briar’s breast and lifting until I can lave my tongue across that dusky peak. She shudders, a strangled sound catching in her throat as I suckle the stinging flesh into my mouth. The coppery tang of her blood bursts across my taste-buds, but I can’t bring myself to recoil—too far gone in this blistering maelstrom of depravity to give a bloody fuck.

With a guttural groan, Hayes lurches forward, pelvis snapping in one final, brutal thrust. The wet pop of him immediately removing himself from Briar’s lips is loud compared to our collective panting. Jace’s murmured litany cuts off as he reclaims Briar’s mouth, chasing his own shattering climax. That’s all it takes to shove Briar over the edge into free-fall, her cunt convulsing in a vicious squeeze that has me cursing a filthy streak.

My hips stutter, thighs tensing as I finally—fucking finally—surge upwards into that heavenly vice. Angling my cock, I bury myself balls-deep and grind, massaging that blazing sweet spot in languid circles until Briar arches like a bow in my arms. Every exquisite line of her form taut and trembling as a broken wail rips free from her core, garbled around Jace’s cock as he releases down her throat.

Rhys slams forward once, twice, then stills with a sneered growl, cock jerking inside Briar’s other entrance as his seed spills forth in hot spurts. Withdrawing in a slick glide, he leaves me free to fuck into that spasming heat unimpeded, hilting myself over and over until the crescendo finally crests and I detonate with a groan.

Wave after wave of sheer, primal bliss crashes over me, every muscle locked taut as I ride out each searing pulse. Only when the last shudder wracks my frame do I slump back, a sprawl of limp limbs and boneless satisfaction.

Dimly, I register Hayes staggering away, retching into the underbrush while Jace trails behind, a soothing hand rubbing his back. But my attention remains locked on Briar where she slumps above me—ruined and wrecked, a goddess in the throes of debauchery. Her head lolls, silky tresses plastered to one flushed cheek, eyes glazed and lips parted to allow a rivulet of seed and saliva to trickle forth.

She’s bloody gorgeous like this, I realise with a dull sort of amazement. Ravaged and defiled, yet strong enough to take whatever torment we could dish out.

Briar blinks slowly, hazy focus drifting my way as a faint shudder ripples through her form. Meeting her stare, something tightens in my chest—an unexpected tendril of remorse coiling through the haze of sated lust.

Christ, what are we doing to this girl?

My brow furrows, mouth opening, but no words come. I simply haven’t the faintest bloody clue how to even begin.