I bite my lip to keep the sex noises that are begging to leave my body as Langston rubs a thumb around my clit before slowly pushing a finger inside of me.
God, it feels like no other man. I could be blindfolded and fucked in the exact same way by every man here, and I’d be able to tell the difference between Langston and everyone else. He may have just recently become my husband, but he’s been my everything for so much longer.
My breath speeds up as he touches me. My cheeks flush, and my toes curl on the stage.
I prepare myself for the inevitable—someone is going to yank him off of me.
Langston leans into my body, his lips resting on mine. My eyes are closed as the pressure builds inside me. My mind begins to soar above all the wickedness of the room. Vile creatures walk among us every day, only to haunt our dreams later. I float above it all.
“Come, my wife.”
I do.
Langston’s mouth closes over mine, keeping all of my noises to himself. His body blocks the crowd so they can’t see my face as I come apart, as Langston claims me in front of everyone while protecting me in the only way he can.
“They can touch you all they want, but you’re mine,” he says loud enough for the whole room to hear.
“Leave,” I breathe out.
“What?”
“Thank you. I hate you. Now, leave. It’s easier for both of us. Go take a break in the bathroom or grab a drink at the bar.”
He frowns.
It’s my turn to help him.
He doesn’t like it, but eventually, he walks out of the room.
I exhale, feeling a weight lift from me.
More touching me, defiling me, trying to make a claim on me, but all I feel is Langston. His touch still tingles everywhere, and when they touch me, it ignites his touch once again.
I don’t know how much time passes. I’m blissfully ignorant to it all until Kiff finally tells me I can step down.
One step, then two, then…
I fall.
The room breaks out into laughter.
I don’t care.
My head spins. I must have gotten lightheaded from how long I was standing upright.
“We are going to take a twenty-minute break and then start the next round of games,” the host says.
Twenty-minute break.
My stomach heaves, and I know how I’m going to be spending my time.
I force myself up before I race to the bathroom.
I clutch the toilet as I dry heave. My stomach churns, but nothing comes out. Sweat forms and mixes with the blood seeping from my wounds before making a small puddle on the floor underneath me.
I expect Langston will burst through the stall door at any moment. This is the women’s bathroom, but that wouldn’t stop him. I expect him to search me out the second he realizes there is a break.
He can’t find me here. He can’t find me crumpled on the bathroom floor, a complete mess.