“Yes.” She pants and squirms against me, confessing, “But I also like it when you’re all together. It’s all mixed up, but I can still taste each of you. And it’s… it’s mine. Right?” Her eyes fall closed when I find her clit, and she opens for me so easily, spreading her thighs wide. “No other girl has ever…？”
“No one,” Rath promises, still breathless when he ducks down to lick into her slick, abused mouth.
“Good.” She licks out to catch his tongue, bucking against my fingers. “Then it’s special. All mine.”
My gut twitches and I hoist her out of the water, keeping her warm against my chest. I use my hands to keep her thighs spread wide, and I don’t need to tell my boys what to do. They’re already stalking forward, eyes fixed to her pussy.
“Now?” she asks, as Tristian and Rath approach. Rath shimmies off her panties, losing them in the water. She doesn’t fight, but I hold her anyway, back against my chest. That push-pull turns her on, just as much as Tristian’s tongue swiping over her clit, and Rath’s finger teasing her pussy. She tenses against my chest, breath caught, already horny from sucking us off.
“Ho, ho, ho,” I say, while running my thumbs over her nipples. The boys are in the giving mood. Holiday spirit and all that shit. We finish off the night like this, warm in the tub, bringing our Lady to the tip of the sharpest edge, then toppling her over, allowing her the freedom of riding out the pure ecstasy of the four of us together, safe in this bubble. When the orgasm finally hits, I lick her lips and whisper, “Merry Christmas, Little Sister, from all of us.
18
Story
“Wait,” I say, frowning out the window. We’re no longer near campus, but in a different part of town altogether. It’s not quite South Side, but it’s still somehow… well, similar. “Do the Dukes live down here?”
“They may as well,” Tristian mutters from the front passenger seat. “Filthy street-urchins.”
“You know that old clock tower at the back of campus?” Dimitri asks, lolling his head against the seat to look at me. We’re in the backseat, his legs sprawled wide enough to press against mine. Thinking, I recall the tower that looms over the older section of Forsyth. The buildings back there are ancient—maybe even historical—and gorgeous-looking, if a bit rundown. I figured most of it was abandoned or, at the very least, on the cusp of a very extensive renovation. In his smooth, deep voice, Dimitri explains, “The Dukes live there, and this is their territory. They say from the belfry, you can see all the way to Widow’s Rock.”
“Figures the Dukes, of all houses, would get the best view.” Tristian turns to give me a sardonic look. “Completely lost on them.”
I think they all know how nervous I feel about what I’m about to do, but they’re doing me the favor of not coddling me about it. Christmas day was a nice distraction. Fun, to say the least, even though I spent most of the next day feeling unnecessarily embarrassed about what happened in the hot tub.
Even now, I catch sight of Killian’s eyes in the rearview mirror and feel my cheeks heat.
It’d be easy to blame it on the drugs, and I suppose a part of my behavior that night could be owed to how high I was. But it was only the part where I actually acted on something I wanted, without fear or shame or pressure. At first, I was worried there’d be no going back, as if I’d enter my bedroom the next night and find them all on the bed, waiting for me, ready to pick up where we left off.
The week between Christmas and New Year’s was busy. Killian took me to the range to try out my new weapon, spending an inordinate amount of time making sure I knew how to use it. It was impossible to know if he just used the opportunity to give himself an excuse to get close to me physically; hands on my hips, cheek close to mine. Tristian dragged me to the gym to prep for the wrestling match, including private lessons with a trainer. After wearing me out, we’d go back home, and he’d massage my aching muscles, forcing me to relax. Dimitri’s bed was a warm comfort at night. We’d listen to music, smoke a joint, and sleep late. The barriers I’d built are rapidly eroding. I’m defenseless to their touch, their kisses and demands. I was tired of fighting, so I didn’t. But now I have to face what comes next. In truth, there’s something disturbingly familiar about jumping into a ring to make money. At least this time, I’ll get to keep it.
Assuming I win.
Killian goes on, “The Dukes occupy the West End. The Counts, the North Side. Princes, the East End. All of the territories push against one another. The Kings, and therefore us, are always in some kind of bullshit squabble.” Killian turns the truck down a dark road. The buildings on both sides are industrial with high metal walls. “The Dukes do their business down here in the warehouse district. And this,” he slows the truck, pointing out the front window, “is their gym.”