Page 9

seven

You Have Two Hands for a Reason

Noah

A lmost there. I'm almost there.

My ankle is on fire. I gave up and crawled a couple of times, but the forest floor on my raw, skinned knees was worse…and slower. It didn't last long.

But I can hear it now—the sounds of the midway, music and people laughing. I can smell the popcorn and fried food; I'm going to make it.

And then what? the voice in my head presses.

And then, I'll have to go to the police and tell them what happened. I hate myself a little for thinking it, but I don't want to. I don't want them to get in trouble—how fucking stupid is that? Whatever they did to me must have fucked up my head even worse than I thought.

I almost cry with relief once I reach the tree line. Adrenaline surges through me, and I pick up my pace, barely feeling the pain in my swollen ankle as I rush toward the metal barrier. Pushing it aside, I stumble through on legs like jello, losing my balance and falling again .

But before I can hit the ground, strong arms wrap around my waist, keeping me on my feet. Inhaling, I know who it is before I even look.

No.

I struggle against his hold with what little energy I have left.

"Easy," Silas says. "You need to calm down, Noah. I've got you." He tightens his hold on me. "I'm not going to let you go."

"Silas, no."

He shushes me, running his hands up and down my back, and I give up, relaxing in his hold.

"You found our lost girl."

Tate's voice causes my body to tense. I fist Silas's hoodie in my hands, still pressed against his chest, before I dare to look up.

"Hey, little lost girl," Tate says. He pulls his hood back, tousles his blue hair, and smiles.

It's the smile that sets my teeth on edge.

It's the way it matches his eyes. No wonder I'd been so easily confused before—the man in front of me looks at me like I'm the only thing he's ever wanted to look at, even though we both know he's here to kill me.

"Leave me alone," I tell him. "There are police here. I'll scream."

"If you scream, I'll stab you," he says. "How many times do you think I could stab you before the police get to you? Besides, you don't want anything bad to happen to us, do you? You saved me, remember?"

I try to push away from Silas, but I barely move. And the truth is my body is too sore and far too tired, and it feels good right here. Tate approaches us with no sense of urgency, taking his time while never breaking eye contact. When he finally closes the space between us, he reaches for me, smoothing matted blonde hair away from my face.

"I bet you're hungry," Tate says. "Are you hungry, baby?"

"What?" I ask, confused.

"I'm fucking starving," he says. "I want one of those big ass pretzels. You want a pretzel, Noah?"

I shake my head. "No. I want to go home."

"Why?" he asks. "So your stepdad can beat the shit out of you? You want a funnel cake? You like funnel cake."

"I want a funnel cake," Silas says. "And one of those lemonades."

"What…what's happening right now?"

"We want to play a game, Noah," Tate says. "It's called 'Obey,' and I think we'll all feel a lot better about everything once it's over. Come on."

He turns, walking off toward the midway, and I watch, my expression twisted with confusion.

Silas lifts me off the ground, holding me on his hip.

"What are you doing?"

"Looks like that ankle could use a break," he says, looking up at me.

I nod. "Yeah."

Tate turns the corner, and Silas follows. I hold on to him, letting my head rest on his shoulder, and he carries me over to a picnic table, setting me down on top before sitting beside me.

I watch Tate from across the aisle, waiting at a food truck window for his order .

"I missed you," Silas says. "Have you been happy?"

"No," I say softly. "Not even a little."

He frowns, then presses a finger to my lips. "Stay," he says.

The game is called Obey , so I nod, and he walks toward the pickup window, helping Tate bring the food and drinks back to the table.

"You didn't say you wanted one, but I know you did, so here," Tate says, handing me one of the three lemonades before sitting at my other side.

I don't realize how thirsty I am until I bring the straw to my lips. I drink half of it before coming up for air.

"You're welcome," he says, removing the lid from his lemonade and pouring whiskey from a flask into the cup.

"Hey, Noah," Silas says. "Give me your foot."

He slides his hand down the outside of my thigh, stopping at my calve and laying it across his lap. I hiss when he presses his cold cup of lemonade against my swollen ankle.

"Does that feel better?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"Good," Silas says. "Now, open your mouth."

I hesitate, and he tears off a piece of the deep-fried cake batter and holds it to my lips. "You know the name of the game, Noah."

I open, and he pushes it inside my mouth. "Now, lick your lips. You've got some powdered sugar right…here."

He swipes the left corner of my lips with his thumb before pushing it into my mouth, and I lick it clean .

"God, I forgot how fucking soft she makes you," Tate bemoans. He tears off a bite of his pretzel before lying flat on his back. "I kind of hate it."

Silas shrugs. "Whatever."

"I like you hard. It makes me hard. I like it when you're soft, though, Noah."

Tate runs a finger up my arm, and I shrug him off, moving closer to Silas.

"Hey, don't do that," he says. "Let me touch you."

"You're going to murder me."

"Yeah, but you'll live a lot longer if you make me happy."

He sits up, wrapping an arm around me before pressing his lips to my shoulder, and then trails kisses across my collarbone. Arms locked at my side, I close my eyes and hold my breath, exhaling when he stops, nuzzling his head against my neck. "Did you miss me, baby?"

I shake my head slightly. "No."

"Liar. You look fucking beautiful. I almost lost my mind when I saw you today; you know that? I wanted to bend you over and fuck you in front of all your friends."

"You killed all my friends."

"Hey, that's not true," Tate says. "Silas killed some of your friends, too, and you're still being nice to him."

He stuffs the last of his pretzel in his mouth and then finishes off his lemonade. "You know what? I think we should go on some rides. You want to go on some rides, Noah?"

"No."

"Fine. Just one ride, then. We don't have a lot of time, anyway; I have another surprise for you. "

"I don't want to. I don't want either one."

"Well, too bad," Tate says. "This day isn't about you. This is my day, and I want to go on the ferris wheel."

"Isn't every day about you?"

It comes out of my mouth before I even think about it, like a habit or a reflex. Like when you're in the car, and you're suddenly pulling into your driveway, but you don't remember how you got there.

Suddenly, I'm watching Tate pull his lip ring through his teeth—the same teeth he flashed earlier, covered in blood, as he slaughtered my former classmates—and I don't know how we got here.

Beside me, Silas laughs.

Tate smiles. "Yeah, baby. Every day is about me."

I try not to flinch as he steps toward me and picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder.

"I don't like this," I tell him.

"Really? I like it," he says, leaning down and biting my upper thigh hard enough to leave a bruise.

"Ouch!" I kick against his hold. "Fuck, Tate! That hurt!"

He laughs and keeps walking. Blood rushes to my head, and I close my eyes, thinking maybe I'll just pass out or better yet, all of this is just another one of my nightmares, and I'll wake up in my own bed.

"I'm going to set you down now, okay?"

When he sets me down, we're in the line for the ferris wheel. The carnival must be closing soon because most of the other rides have already shut down for the night.

"You can lean on me, if you want. "

"No, thanks, Tate. I tried that once, and you let me down."

Tate scoffs. "You know what? That'd be funny if it weren't a figment of your fucking imagination."

"I would never touch her," I say.

He whips around and grabs me by the throat, eyes consumed by rage as he squeezes…tightening his grip by the second until—

"Hey…" Silas grabs him by the wrist and shoves him off of me. "What are you doing? There are people around."

I gasp for air as Silas pulls me into his side, but it's a little too late. A nearby officer heads our way.

"Is everything okay here?" he asks.

"Yeah, we're good," Tate says.

"Wasn't asking you," the officer says. "Are you okay, miss? Are either of these men bothering you?"

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. He's taking in my disheveled state—the filth, the injuries. The bikini top isn't so out of place at the lake, but it is in the middle of the night.

"If you're under duress, you can tell me. I'll make sure you get somewhere safe."

I consider it for a second. I think maybe he's right, but I also think if I tried to leave with this police officer, I'd end up stabbed and watching him shoot Tate and Silas in front of me.

I also think I'm fucking insane because when I do speak, I sign my own death warrant.

"I'm fine," I tell the officer, burrowing further into Silas's side. "They're not bothering me."

"Are you drunk?" he asks.

"No. "

The line moves, and the person operating the ride shouts, "Hey, are you guys getting on or what?"

"Go ahead," the officer says. "And then get the fuck out of here."

I lower my gaze, and we make our way toward the ride. Tate opens the door, and I follow him into the gondola, sitting on the same side between the two of them.

My eyes fill with tears. That was my last chance, and I fucking wasted it.

I sniffle, choking back a sob, and they notice.

"Hey," Tate says. "You did so good." He threads his fingers through my hair, his thumb tracing small circles behind my ear, the way he used to comfort me. "You did the right thing. This is the right thing, and I think you know that. And after this, we're going to show you."

"How?"

"I'm going to show you how good revenge feels." He slips his hand inside my halter, teasing my nipple with his thumb. I jump on contact, and Silas pins my leg to the bench seat. "Then you'll understand me a lot better. But first, you're going to do something for me."

He takes off his sweatshirt and drapes it across our laps, then unbuttons his jeans and pulls out his hard cock, fisting it at its base.

"I've been so fucking hard all day, my dick has its own pulse," he says. "And that scared look on your face is only making it throb harder. You're going to make me come before the ride stops. "

"But—"

"You're questioning me. That's not how we play the game, Noah. They've still got about twenty of these to load and unload. You've got plenty of time if you don't waste it sitting there and acting like you don't want it. You're not the one in control here, and I know you like that, too, so just give in. Let everyone down there see what an obedient little slut you are. Maybe I'll even let you come, too."

With the flush of embarrassment comes a flood of wet heat between my legs. I hate it…I hate that they broke me like this, and my body doesn't work right.

I hate that I like hating it, too.

I bring my palm to my mouth and lick it, and then wrap it around his shaft.

"Fuck," he moans. He slouches further into the seat, spreading his legs wider. "Just like that, Noah. Be a good little slut."

I squeeze my legs together, the pulse between my legs begging for attention, working him faster as our gondola moves closer to the top.

Beside me, Silas groans, and I realize he's stroking his own cock while he watches.

"You have two hands for a reason, Noah," he says.

"He's not asking," Tate groans. "You need to let Silas fuck your other fist."

I wrap my free hand around Silas's hard dick, pumping them both together from base to tip. "Mmm," he moans, dropping his chin and biting his lip, watching me milk his cock. "Faster, Noah. You know what I like."

Tate reaches his hand inside my top again, this time sliding my halter aside, exposing me before taking my tit in his hand and rolling the hard point of my nipple between his thumb and middle finger.

"There you go. This is what you were made for," Tate says. "Don't think I don't see you squeezing your thighs together while you pump our dicks."

With the last car filled, our gondola heads toward the ground. I turn my body into Tate, attempting to cover myself, knowing that anyone who takes the time to look can see exactly what we're doing.

And Tate knows it, too. And he likes it.

Precum leaks from the tip of his dick as it jumps in my fist. "I'm going to come," he says. "Put it in your fucking mouth, baby."

Releasing Silas, I lean down and do what he asks, licking the tip before taking it in the back of my throat and bobbing my head on his cock.

"Jesus," Tate says. "You sure missed sucking my dick, didn't you, baby?"

"It fucking looks like she did," Silas says.

"It fucking feels like she did. Fuck!" He grabs me by my hair, holding me in place while he thrusts into my throat, and I gag while he fills it with cum—a lot of cum. I swallow around him before it can run down my chin.

"Shit, Noah," he moans when he hears it, still filling my mouth. "Feels good when you do that, too."

I swallow another mouthful, and when he pulls out, I can still feel it dripping from my lips. Before I can wipe it with the back of my hand, he stops me. "Leave it like that. Show Silas." Gripping my chin, he turns me to face Silas. "Don't you think she should leave it like that, Silas?"

"I think she'd look better with cum all over her tits, too," he rasps.

"You heard him," Tate says. "Make him come on your tits."

I stroke his cock as we head back to the top of the ferris wheel, where it stops. I guess they're unloading the ride now.

"How wet are those little bikini bottoms of yours?" Tate whispers in my ear as he leans over my shoulder, watching me work Silas's dick. "I bet I could wring them out. I bet you think about this every time you come, don't you?"

He sucks my earlobe into his mouth, flicking it against his tongue ring. "That's not a rhetorical question. Do you think about us when you fuck yourself?"

When I don't answer again, he digs his teeth into my neck. "Ow! Yes!"

"Fuck…" Silas groans. "Don't stop what you're doing. I'm about to come all over you."

Tate pulls the triangle of material covering my other tit aside, fully exposing me for Silas.

"She looks so scared," Silas says. "It's hot as fuck. Open your mouth like you're about to scream."

He grabs the back of my neck, pushing me down toward his lap. White, hot ropes of cum paint my chin, neck, and chest before dripping down my fist.

"Fuck…fuck, that's a pretty fucking sight."

"Let me see," Tate says. I lick my lips, wipe my hand on my shorts, and sit back in the seat. "Yeah, that is pretty. "

I gasp when he brings his mouth to my chest, licking the area clean, sucking each of the hard points and flicking my nipple with his tongue ring before covering me up. Then he gently places a hand on my cheek and brings his lips to mine.

"Kiss me," he says.

I press my lips together and move back an inch.

"It wasn't a question. Get over here—there's nothing to be afraid of."

I lean in, closing the rest of the space between us, and bring my mouth to his, immediately tasting Silas as I slip my tongue past his lips. Tate breathes me in, moaning into my mouth, and that's when I know it's a bad idea.

He wraps his arm around me, placing his palm on the small of my back, deepening the kiss. I almost—almost—wrap my arms around his neck before the ride jerks into motion again, snapping me back into reality, and I pull away.

"You're probably cold, aren't you?" he asks.

I nod. I hadn't really noticed it before, but it did get colder.

"Here," he says, pulling his hoodie down over my head. "Better, right?"

"Yeah, that's better," I whisper.

Hazel eyes meet my own, and he brushes my hair behind my ears before offering me a crooked smile, causing my breath to catch in my throat.

Tate's not going to kill me , I think. Tate loves me.

I quickly break eye contact, embarrassed by the thought. This is exactly why I can't be around Tate. This is why I can't be around either of them .

Silas throws his arm around my shoulders, using a hand on my cheek to guide my eyes to his before his lips engulf mine.

"Mmm," he says as his tongue slips past my lips. "I can taste our cum on your tongue, baby."

"That's how it should be," Tate says. "But you've been a bad girl, Noah. Instead of getting my dick every day, you're going to get my knife." He slips a hand between my thighs, cupping my swollen pussy through my jean shorts. "But that's okay, baby. Because if you're honest with yourself, I think you know you deserve it, don't you?"

Before I can reply, our gondola stops at the bottom. Silas takes my hand, lacing his fingers with mine as we exit the ride. I keep my head down as we step off the platform, feeling about fifty sets of eyes on me.

Tate wraps his arm around my waist, pressing a kiss to my temple.

I'm sure that doesn't help.

"Where are we going?" I ask as they steer me through the nearly empty midway.

"It's a surprise," Tate says. "Don't say I never did anything for you, Noah."

Maybe this is the part where he kills me.

"You'll like this," he adds as we walk through the gates and into the parking lot. "I know Silas is going to like it."

"Silas, where are we going?"

"We're just going for a drive, Noah," he says, keeping his gaze forward, his tone terse. "You need to stop asking so many fucking questions."

"Silas, tell me!"

"You're not playing the game right," he snaps. "And you lost the fucking privilege of questioning me a long time ago, so shut your fucking mouth."

It stops me in my tracks. Tate is always angry and reactive, but not Silas. It's worse when it's Silas.

My lower lip trembles.

I think I know what he meant now. I remember the time the three of us got into a bar outside of town, and as we were leaving, some guy grabbed my ass in the back alley. Silas beat him so badly that Tate , of all people, intervened and stopped him. When we left, he was on the ground, his face unrecognizable, and Silas's fists were covered in blood. He sat silently in the backseat for most of the drive home, furling and unfurling those bloody fists. Tate warned me not to touch him.

I was terrified I'd find out he was dead when I turned on the news the next morning. But I didn't. They carried on like nothing happened, and so I did, too.

When we were sophomores, Silas was up for a starting position on the football team over one of the seniors, and so he and his friends decided they'd start taking cheap shots at him at practice. It only lasted one practice.

When Silas got sick of it, he pinned the other guy to the ground, grabbed him by the arm, and stomped his humerus in half. Neither of them started that year, as Silas was suspended for the season, but the other guy never played again.

And then there was the time I watched him slit an animal's throat without blinking an eye.

I did know Silas was dangerous. I knew he was a killer. I just didn't care, because I knew he wasn't a danger to me .

"Silas, I'm sorry," I tell him. "I missed you every day."

"Don't do that," Tate says. "I already told you that Silas won't save you. You hurt his fucking feelings, Noah."

"It's the truth, though," I say, refusing to look at Tate. "Silas…"

He releases my hand and jerks open the car door, slamming it behind him after climbing inside.

Tate laughs. "Told you. You hurt his feelings; best not to bring it up again, or he might change his mind about being the one to kill you."

My shoulders slump in defeat.

"Get in the back," he says, opening the car door.

I get into the vehicle, sliding all the way over on the bench seat when Tate climbs in behind me.

"How come he gets an apology, and I don't?" Tate asks.

My eyebrows shoot up. "What?"

"Maybe you should say sorry to me, too."

"When did you tell Mia the truth?" I counter.

"I would have," he says. "Eventually. If you would have come back and stopped acting like such a fucking brat about it."

I scoff, shaking my head. "Tate, I've known you for your entire life, too. I can tell when you're lying, too."

Silas starts the car, music blaring through the speakers as the engine comes to life. Grateful for the interruption, I fold my arms in front of my chest and lean against the car window. Once we pull onto the highway, Tate slides over until his body is against mine.

"You didn't even give me a chance to explain. "

"If you really wanted to, you would have tried harder. Besides, what's there to explain? I understood just fine."

"It wasn't about you."

"I'm aware of that. It was just a game."

"That's not what I meant—I meant it wasn't personal."

"I know, and that's a problem for me. It was personal to me. You used me. We were friends , Tate, and you groomed me. And you were so fucking good at it that I don't even know when you started doing it, but you did. Now, I'm just…fucked in the head. You broke my brain…at a chemical level. I don't work right anymore. You made me sick. "

"You're not sick. And I never made you that way. It was always you."

Silas lowers the volume on the speakers. "You don't really think that, Noah. There's no way you could actually think we were trying to hurt you or that we used you. You know better."

I scoff and look away, blinking back tears.

"What about Silas? Huh?"

I shrug. "I don't know. Whatever you did to me, you must have done to him, too."

"You're giving me way too much power; I don't hate it, but you are. You're not broken, baby. There's nothing wrong with that pretty head of yours," he says, tapping my temple with his index finger.

"Yeah, well…coming from you …that doesn't really hold much weight. You're not exactly the embodiment of mental stability."

In the front seat, Silas laughs. I look out the window and realize we're passing Brielle's family's cabin. There are no police cars, no flashing blue and red lights, no crime scene tape. No one has discovered what happened in the woods yet. I wonder when they will.

"Huh, that's really funny, Noah," Tate says. "You actually reminded me—I owe you something from earlier."

"What?"

"You know what." He leans back into the seat and pats his knee.

I shake my head. "No."

"That's three now," he says. "You're only going to make it worse. I've got a knife in my pocket, and I'm happy to see you. Unbutton your shorts."

When I don't move, Tate purses his lips and shakes his head, then pulls the knife from his pocket.

He flips it open, the blade still stained in my friends' blood, and holds it to my throat. I back away until my head hits the car window, and he digs it into my skin. I feel a burn like a paper cut, and realize he's pierced the skin just as hot blood runs down my throat.

"I think you've forgotten what we're doing here, Noah. I'm trying to help you, but if you're going to be difficult, we can always end this now."

"If you're going to kill her, let me know," Silas says. "I'd like to get out of the car."

"Hey, Silas? How do you feel about necrophilia?" Tate asks.

"Uh…I think that's something you can't be sure about until the right opportunity presents itself."

My eyes widen, and Tate shrugs. "Good point. "

I shake my head, unbuttoning my shorts. "I'll be good," I tell him.

"Good." Tate smiles, folds the blade back, and pats his knee again. Hooking my thumbs into my shorts and bikini bottoms, I pull them down over my hips and lie across his lap.

I feel his warm fingertips against my skin, lightly running up and down my bare ass to the apex of my thighs, sending goose bumps up and down my spine.

"Ah, Noah…" he pauses, exhaling slowly. "You look so pretty bent over my lap and ready like this. It really is too bad, baby. Such a fucking waste."

His fingers still. My body tenses in anticipation of what's to come, and I mentally condemn myself for the arousal that comes with it. My nipples harden, my clit pulses while I wait.

And then he lifts his hand, and it comes back down on my ass.

Smack. One.

Smack. Two.

Smack. Three.

"Fuck!" I shout, releasing the breath I've been holding. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes.

Smack . Four.

"In case you want to talk back again later. Now, you've got one free pass." When I start to sit up, he pins me down with his forearm. "Don't move yet," he says. "I want to know how wet you are. If I slip my fingers inside your pussy, will they come out soaked?"

My cheeks flush as my heart pounds again with anticipation.

"Not rhetorical, Noah. "

"Yes…" I admit.

"That's what I thought."

I tense as his fingers run down the crack of my ass until they reach my wet slit, and he pushes them inside my pussy. A desperate whimper leaves my lips as he slips them in and out of me, and I squirm on his lap.

"I can hear how wet her pussy is," Silas says.

"Yeah, this is what happens when you're a slut who likes to be covered in cum and punished afterward."

He curls his fingers, working me faster. I bite my lip to keep from crying out and attempt to squeeze my legs closed.

"Don't do that," he says, using his other hand to spread my legs wider. "What's the problem? No one at your prep school knew how to fuck you right, and now you can't even take my fingers?" When I don't answer, he grabs me by my hair and pulls hard. "That wasn't rhetorical, either. Did they or did they not know how to fuck you?"

"No…" I whimper.

"That's what we thought. It's okay; I can help you with that. Lift your hips, Noah."

Meeting Silas's eyes in the rearview mirror, I do what he says, lifting my hips until I'm on my knees.

"Like this?"

"Just like that, baby."

Tate moves out from under me, positioning himself behind me, and my heart pounds as I hear the distinct sound of him fumbling with his jeans. My eyes remain locked on Silas's in the rearview mirror, watching as they move from me to Tate just before I feel the head of his cock against my backside. I gasp as he runs it through my wetness and back and forth over my clit before finally thrusting inside of me.

"Ohhhhh, fuck!" I moan, gripping the edge of the bench seat hard in both of my hands, my body trembling as Tate buries himself to the hilt and holds it there.

"Jesus, Noah," he groans. "Your pussy is wetter than your fucking mouth."

I wriggle against him, desperate for him to move.

"That's it," he says. "Arch that back, baby." He finally moves, pulling out nice and slow before slamming into me again. "Give me that good angle."

I moan—a loud, desperate sound—and he picks up his pace, rocking his hips into me. Tension quickly builds at my core, each thrust taking me closer to the edge.

"Oh, god…" I whimper.

"I am god today," he says, slamming into me harder now. Each thrust of his rock-hard cock into my pussy sends my head into the car door. "You remember that, Noah. I'm your god, and you should ask for my fucking forgiveness."

"Fuck…"

"Say you're sorry, Noah. Tell me you're sorry for keeping your pussy from me."

"I'm sorry!" I cry out. It's another one of those autopilot, reflex-like reactions, and if I weren't on the brink of orgasm, I'd never say it, and he knows that. But when his dick is inside me, my body knows to do what he says.

I allow my eyes to flutter closed, surrendering to the pleasure he's giving me—to how good each deep thrust of his cock feels buried inside me. It's wrong, and I know that; I know he's going to kill me. It doesn't stop my legs from shaking. It doesn't stop me from whimpering his name while he slams his long, hard dick into me.

I don't even realize the car is parked until I feel cool air against my skin instead of the top of my head slamming against the car door. When I look up, Silas brushes his thumb across my lips, parting them before pushing his thick cock into my mouth. He places both of his palms on my cheeks and then threads his fingers into my hair, holding my head in place.

"I couldn't resist," Silas says. "You just looked so fucking sweet like this, Noah. You really are a good girl."

I brace myself as he thrusts in and out of my mouth, eyes watering when he hits the back of my throat, moaning around the mouthful as Tate pushes me over the edge and the orgasm rips through me. Waves of pleasure consume me as my pussy pulses around his cock and my entire core spasms.

"Fuck," Tate groans. "You're coming, aren't you? I can feel it."

Unable to speak, I nod, but I don't know if he can see it. Overstimulated and low on oxygen, it's all I can do to keep from collapsing onto my stomach.

"I can feel it, too," Silas says. "You've got her whimpering and choking around my dick, and it feels so fucking good."

Tate's hand slides over my hip and inside the hoodie until he reaches my chest, pushing my bikini top aside so he can grip my tit in his hand while he fucks me through the orgasm. "You should have come home," he says, digging his nails into my skin. "I can't give you my forgiveness, Noah. But I'm going to give you my cum, and you're going to thank me for it. "

Tate moans, his thrusts becoming shorter until he stills, burying himself inside me when he fills me with cum. "Jesus Christ, your pussy feels good…fuck…"

He grabs me by my hips, gripping them tightly, groaning while rocking his hips from side to side—like he's trying to get even deeper—until he's empty.

In front of me, a sound comes from deep in Silas's throat, his breath coming short as if watching Tate come is about to push him over the edge.

I taste precum on my tongue and know it is.

Tate pulls out and moves beside me, cupping Silas's balls in his hand while he fucks my mouth. "What happened to we're on a schedule, we don't have time for this, and I'm always in control, huh?" Tate taunts. "You pulled over real fast to make time to choke our little slut with your cock, didn't you?"

Silas sucks air through his teeth. "Fuck!" he cries out before cum fills my mouth. "Fuck you, Tate…"

I swallow around him to keep from choking as he holds me in place, still rocking his hips and pushing his dick into the back of my throat. I pump him with my hand until he finishes, and I let him fall from my mouth, swallowing again.

I wipe my face and mouth with the sleeve of the hoodie before sitting back in the seat and bringing my knees to my chest. "And we are on a fucking schedule," Silas says, adjusting his sweatpants before sitting beside me on the bench seat. I pull the hood over my head, and he throws his arm around my shoulders.

"Are you okay?" Silas asks.

I nod, and he kisses my forehead .

"You really should have come home."

I bury my head in his shoulder and wrap my arm around his waist.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you. You know how I feel about you, don't you?" he asks.

"Hey," Tate says, pulling me away from him. "No conspiring. Drive the car."

"What?" Silas scoffs. "I'm not fucking conspiring."

"Great. Drive the car, then."

Sighing, Silas leans forward, kissing me slowly on the lips before exiting the vehicle and getting back into the driver's seat. I wipe my eyes again and then search for my discarded bottoms and shorts and pull them on.

"That's probably not very comfortable, is it?" Tate asks.

I shake my head.

"You can change your clothes when we get to your house."

My house? They're letting me go?

I'm too afraid—too relieved at the thought to ask, so I don't. Instead, I lean against him, wrapping my arm around his back as I stare out the window.

He lets me, holding me and kissing my cheek while running his hands up and down my back. Our eyes meet in the reflection of the darkened window, and he smiles.

But the way he smiles…the way it differs from the devious look in his eyes lets me know this isn't over, and I'm not getting off this easy. Still, I choose ignorance.

After all, I'm tired.

I close my eyes and let myself fall asleep against his chest.