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ROLLING OVER, I open my eyes to see Nate passed out in my bed. It’s still dark outside. Getting up, I pull on a T-shirt and pair of cotton shorts and make my way down the hallway to the stairs, having to pass Colt’s room and hearing a woman’s voice.
“Colt! Yes … Fuck, yeah—”
I twist the knob to find it unlocked and smile to myself before I shove it open. “Can you gag her? Not everyone wants to listen to your fake porn shit.”
I see the irony in my statement, considering I was faking it with Nate just a few hours ago.
He’s got his lights on, making it bright as fuck, giving me a clear view of Amy on top of him naked. Thankfully her back is toward me, so I don’t have to see her tits. She throws her head back, laughing at what I said.
Colt is propped up against his headboard. His narrowed eyes meet mine for a brief second, then the corners of his lips turn up into a smirk. He lifts his hands, lacing his fingers behind his head, causing the muscles in his arms to flex at the motion. My eyes run over his smooth, defined chest, and I imagine pushing her to the side and showing her how it’s done. Colt doesn’t like to be on bottom. No, he prefers to be on top, holding you down while you beg for your life.
“Why don’t you join us, princess?” he offers, and his green eyes drop to my shorts.
I snort at the thought. “No thanks.” Then I slam the door shut and finish making my way downstairs, needing a drink of water. That weed that I smoked made my mouth dry. The party is obviously over, but there are still bodies passed out here and there. There’s not much of a mess. If Colton Remington Knox has a party, you throw your shit away. No one leaves this house without cleaning up somewhat.
Grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge, I make my way back up to my room, but I decide to make a detour and shower. My hair smells like smoke, and it’s making me want to vomit.
Colt and I are the only two who have bedrooms on the second floor. Of course, he has the master bedroom with the en suite bathroom. He paid millions for this house after he graduated high school. Well, I guess I should say the trust fund money he got paid for it. His mother died when he was young, and he received a big lump sum of cash after graduation.
The guys moved in with him immediately. Alex and Jenks are on the first floor on the other side of the house. Finn has the third floor to himself.
My bedroom also has an en suite bathroom. But what’s so nice about it is that you can also enter it from the hallway, so guests don’t have to walk through my room if I don’t want them to. Not like anyone would ever need to use mine. The house has like twelve fucking bathrooms.
Entering my bathroom, I get a towel out of the linen closet and hang it on the hook, then remove my shirt and shorts along with my underwear and step in to turn on the shower. I let the water heat while I go over to the double sinks to brush my teeth, trying to get rid of this god-awful lingering taste of weed.
I don’t even smoke. Not anymore. It was my thing in high school. I hope the fucker noticed it was his. I had been in his room a few weeks ago while he was at work with his daddy, and I found it hidden in the back of his closet. I knew it’d come in handy eventually.
Rinsing my mouth out, I open the glass shower door and step inside, letting the hot water burn my skin. Closing my eyes, I stand under the sprayer and lean my head back, wetting my hair.
Thoughts of the video play in my head, and I think of drowning him in the pool in the backyard. How dare he record that. How dare he fucking share that. What was his goal? Why now? Why tonight?
I hate him for it, but my pussy tightens on its own just thinking about that night.
Six weeks ago
“Princess?”
I moan as my heavy eyes open, and I see Colt hovering over top of me. I’m exhausted. My body is still shaking with need. He didn’t let me come. I was so close so many times downstairs in the formal dining room. Just when I was about to explode, Jenks pulled out, leaving me unsatisfied once again.
Orgasm denial is a bitch that I have a love-hate relationship with. “Please,” I whisper, reaching up to wrap my arms around his neck, but they won’t move. Tilting my head back, I realize he’s already tied my wrists to his bed. I swear I blacked out at one point. My lips part, and I whimper, pulling on them, making the bed rattle.