Warily, I wonder, “And then what?”
“And then I wrap them around my dick,” he drawls, voice falling two octaves. “I jack it until I come, and then I shoot my load in the exact spot that’s touched your sweet pussy all day.”
I breathe a long, stuttered, “Oh.” Come to think of it, I’m not sure what else I was expecting. “Are you…right now?”
I can practically hear his teeth raking over his lip piercings. “That get you hot, baby? Knowing I want it so bad that just busting my nut into your damp panties is enough to do it for me?”
I roll it around in my brain, ultimately deciding, “Yes.”
“This pair is pink,” is his response, and I realize instantly that he’s stroking himself with the pair of panties I wore last night. They’re not as frilly as some of my others—just simple, comfortable cotton. His breaths are coming harder now, shallower. “Something got you wet yesterday. They were fucking soaked.”
I grind my head back into my pillow and buck into my hand, ripe with the knowledge that tomorrow, these blue panties will go missing from my laundry hamper. “Tristian,” I quietly confess, sliding my fingers through my wetness. “We were all watching that movie, and I was remembering—”
“That day he fucked you in the entertainment room,” Dimitri says, grunting. “Fuck, I still remember the way your pussy looked, stretched around his cock.”
It’d been difficult last night, sitting in their presence while some movie played on the screen. I can barely even recall the plot—something with a lot of guns and fast cars—but I vividly remember looking over at Tristian’s sprawled legs and wondering what it might be like to climb into his lap again. Like Dimitri, I can perfectly recall what it felt like to have him buried inside me as the world moved on around us.
“He watched it, you know.” Dimitri’s voice is choppy, and I imagine the way his forearm must look, veins bulging as he strokes himself. Breathlessly, he clarifies, “The video of us, from the pit. I think he might feel bad about it, but I told him—” He makes a low, strained sound. “Told him if there’s anyone who should jerk it to that, it’s them. They’re the only ones who…” His voice trails off, slurring into something indistinct.
My own hand unconsciously syncs to the rhythm I hear in his voice—in the rustle over the speaker. “They’re the only ones who have the right.”
“Yeah,” Dimitri says, his words just as hard as his dick probably is. “Because you’re ours. You can make or take away all the rules you want, but it’ll always be true.”
I always get a little lost when I’m like this. It’s why it has to be Dimitri. The booze and the drugs dull his memory of the things I say. It’s why it has to be over the phone, neither of us able to physically act on it.
But it comes pouring out of me as I rub my clit, chest hitching with my gasps. “Yeah, I’m yours, I’m yours.”
He lets out this deep, tremulous growl. “God, I should come down there and fuck you through the goddamn floor. I should let the others watch. Hell, I should let them get a piece. You’ve got us so fucking crazy for it…”
It’s so hot in here, the fan in the room's corner doing little in the way of cooling my overheated skin. Clumsily, I kick the blankets off, giving me an unobstructed view of my hand disappearing into my panties. Here, in the dark, it could be any hand. It could be Killian’s. Tristian’s. “Dimitri…”
I seize with the force of my orgasm, thighs clamping hard as I ride my hand. Distantly, I can hear the sounds of Dimitri’s grunt, the static-hiss of huffed breaths, but I’m too lost in the pleasure sparking through my brain to care that he’s probably painting the crotch of yesterday’s panties with his come.
Like it always does, the fall is steep and jarring, slamming back to my body with a heaving chest and a damp brow. I can hear my pulse in my ears like a roaring stampede.
Or maybe that’s just Killian pacing outside my door.
As if he’s heard my thoughts, Dimitri’s rough voice comes through the speaker. “You have no fucking idea what you’re doing to us, girl.” His words are slurring worse now, heavy with exhaustion. Idly, I wonder what he’s doing with my soiled panties. “Maybe you should call one of them next time.”
I frown at the bleakness in his voice. “I can’t.”
There’s some shuffling on the other end of line—maybe he’s cleaning himself. “Then maybe you should come up here and actually get a full night’s rest for once.” Dimitri’s sigh sounds just as weary as I feel. “You aren’t fooling anyone. Maybe you sort of hate us, but you need us just as much as we need you. Own your shit, Story. It doesn’t have to be—”