Dean went back to his own room after we finished last night, claiming that he drew the line at actually sleeping in bed with another man, something that seems like splitting hairs to me when he fucked me last night while I was full of Cayde’s cum. Cayde’s bed is big enough for three, but he didn’t argue, probably because he likes sleeping dead center in the middle of it, which only really leaves enough room for me.
Another intimate thing that I know about him now.
I slip out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him, and pad quietly across the floor to the bathroom. I desperately want a shower, but I was far too tired last night to get out of bed after the three of us had collapsed. I’d once again been fucked well beyond my body’s endurance, and all I’d wanted to do was fall asleep, which I’d done almost immediately.
Now, standing under the hot water as it washes away the traces of what we did last night, I feel the sharp return of the guilt.
Guilt because, for one, I know I shouldn’t be enjoying Cayde and Dean as much as I am. Mia would say I’m losing sight of the goal, and she’d be right. But that’s an everyday fight for me lately, tossed back and forth between a desire to burn all of this to the ground and a desire to stay in the middle of it and let the flames consume me.
The other reason I feel guilty is because of Jaxon.
I should have followed him last night. I feel like I should have apologized to him—although for what, exactly, I’m not entirely sure. All I know is that I feel like there was something wrong with continuing on as if nothing had happened when he’d pulled himself out of my mouth and practically run from the room. But what was I supposed to do? I’d been atop Dean, his cock buried inside of me. At the same time, Cayde fucked me in the ass from behind, halfway to another orgasm, and both of them pounding into me as they approached their own climaxes. Was I supposed to jump off of them both, leaving them hard and halfway to coming, and run after someone who clearly didn’t want to be there with us?
That wouldn’t have made any sense. But all I know is that I’d felt guilty last night when I’d turned my attention immediately back to them after the door had slammed behind him, that we’d kept going as if nothing had happened. And I feel guilty now, imagining him alone in bed, hard and aching and lonely.
Jaxon is a problem that I don’t know what to do with. I’m no longer entirely sure that I need to seduce him to accomplish what I’m trying to do. Dean and Cayde’s twin obsession with me and growing rebellion against what they’ve been told to do all their lives might just accomplish it all on its own. Jaxon will just get swept away with the course of events, and if I play my cards right, at the end of this, I’ll be free. My mother and I can leave, and these insane months will fade into something like a very weird dream.
But that ignores two things.
One, I’m not entirely sure I want to leave anymore.
And two, even if I don’thaveto sleep with Jaxon to accomplish ruining the game and bringing down the hierarchy of this town, Iwantto.
I want him. And I can’t seem to stop.
He’s my own obsession, the way I was for Cayde.
But he seems convinced that it’s deadly for us both.
I’m reluctant to get out of the shower. The hot water feels good, and part of me wants to stay there, wreathed in steam and hiding from everything outside of it. But eventually, my fingers start to wrinkle, and the water begins to cool. I turn it off, stepping out and reaching for a fluffy towel to dry off.
Cayde is awake when I walk out into the bedroom, propped up in bed on pillows and scrolling through his phone. He looks over, catching sight of me wrapped in a towel with my wet hair clinging to my shoulders, and he grins as I walk towards the bed.
It feels normal.Toonormal.
I slide onto the bed, still in my towel, glancing at his phone. “What’re you doing?” I ask casually, leaning back against the pillows. I half expect him to snap at me or say something cutting about how it’s none of my business, maybe send me back to my room so he can be alone, but instead, he just glances over at me.
“Planning the frat’s Halloween party,” he says, scrolling through his phone. “Blackmoor always throws the big campus bash. And Dean definitely isn’t going to spend his time planning a party.” He smirks, and I can’t help but laugh too. The idea of Dean planning a frat partyismore than a little bit ridiculous.
“Are you sure you should be throwing a party?” I ask with a laugh. “The last one didn’t go all that well.” I feel a twist in my gut, remembering just how badly the last party went, but I force myself not to think about it. All I can do to lighten the memory is make a joke about it, so I do exactly that.
Cayde looks over at me, setting his phone aside. I see a flicker of something in his eyes, almost sympathy, as if he sees the pain underneath the humor. “I think I liked the last party just fine,” he says, his voice dropping an octave as he turns towards me, and just like that, I’m filled with memories of Cayde fucking me on a table in front of Dean and most of the campus, of my body twisting with unimaginable pleasure as he stuffed me full of his thick cock for the first time, and the bad memories are swept away on a sudden tide of arousal.
He leans forward, pushing me back into the pillows, my wet hair trailing over them as his fist wraps around the front of my towel. With one sharp yank, he jerks it away, throwing it to the floor so that I’m entirely naked, my body pinned beneath his as he pushes my thighs apart, his already rock-hard cock nudging between my thighs as his mouth comes down onto mine.
I moan as he kisses me, hot and hard, his cock slipping into me in one long thrust that leaves me wet and gasping, arching beneath him. He reaches for my wrists, pinning them above my head as he starts to move. I wrap my legs around him without thinking, pressing against his hips as he slides into me again and again, his impossibly thick cock sending bursts of pleasure shooting over my skin, electrifying my nerves until I feel myself starting to come apart underneath him, my orgasm racing up from somewhere deep inside of me to burst over my skin. I moan and writhe underneath him, and he thrusts hard, his mouth sliding to my neck, biting and sucking there as he slows down, his cock piercing me in long, slow slides of hot wet flesh that has me trembling beneath him.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” he moans, shuddering as he thrusts into me all the way again, his balls slapping against the curve of my ass as he grinds against me, as deeply inside of me as he can do. “Fuck, Athena, I don’t ever want to stop fucking you—”
I breathe in sharply, feeling myself stiffen at the admission. Though he takes it as another tremor of pleasure and starts to fuck me again, harder this time, his teeth in my neck, his tongue lashing over the bruised skin after every bite. I feel myself dissolving into the pleasure of it, losing myself. He feels so fucking good, his heavy, muscled body bearing down on mine, his thick cock filling me like nothing ever has, and I hear myself whispering, begging, my voice a pleading gasp.
“Don’t stop, Cayde, please don’t stop, don’t ever fucking stop—”
He kisses me hard, his hand cupping my face, his thumb beneath my chin, holding my mouth tilted up to his as he pounds into me harder than before, bruising my already sore pussy with the force of his thrusts. But it feels good, my clit throbbing as his pelvis scrapes over it, his hips rolling against me with every time his body crashes into mine, and as I hear him groan aloud, “Oh fuck, Athena, I’m gonna come, I’m—fuuuck—” I know I’m on the edge again too.
I feel his cock swell, throbbing as he slams into me again, cum flooding me as it bursts out of him in a hot rush. I cling to him, my nails digging into his shoulders as I start to come too, my moan turning into a high-pitched scream as he keeps thrusting into me, his cum already dripping from my pussy as he fucks me hard all the way through his orgasm.
“Christ.” Cayde rolls away from me the second his orgasm starts to recede, cum still pearling at the tip and sliding down his shaft. He squeezes his cock, stroking it a couple times as it starts to deflate, and then he looks over at me, still lying there panting and sticky all over again.