Page 128 of Forbidden Heroes

I nail him with a quizzical look from across the room. “I’ve hurt them, and you, but you still want to binge on cookies?” I offer a small smile. It’s all I can muster at the moment.

“Shit happens, sweetheart. It’s up to you how much you let others control your life.”

Hours later those words hang at the front of my mind. As do all the times the three men have been there for me. The way they welcomed me into their lives. But deep down I know the next weeks of my life are going to be hell. All the work I’ve put into my studies, days and years of pure focus. The one time I take a little something for me it’s all lost.

Hours tick by and I watch the moon rise from my lonely bed. For two solid weeks I’ve slept snuggled between my lovers. Tonight is the first night I’ve been alone. And it sucks.

Daemon likes to sleep with his leg between mine, his hand on my thigh. Warren, he’s just as possessive but in a different way. Several mornings I would wake to find his hand holding mine to his chest.

The more I think about it, the harder I breathe. My heart beats faster and I debate seeking them out. But after tomorrow I won’t have them to run to. I skim a hand under the covers and pull back the band of my underwear.

It’s quiet so I know they’ve all gone to bed.

Alone in the dark, I grab my pillow and draw it over my face, giving in to the pressure, and just scream. Scream out my frustration and hurt, my anger at the Universe for giving me something for so short a time and then yanking it away.

I swirl a finger around my clit through the cloth of my panties and feel a sudden sting of need shoot through me. But no fire. Not like what they do for me. I haven’t gone a single night without feeling their pleasure and my body is going into withdrawal. My legs slide open and I cup my pussy. The touch of my own fingers is nowhere near what theirs feels like on my flesh, but I push aside my panties and I work my clit. Slow circles at first. I ease up the edge of my nightshirt to find my nipples hard, eager. I gasp and for a second I think I can find my release with a little more effort, but the harder I caress the nub tucked between my folds, the further away my release escapes.

I throw aside the covers, yank off my panties. I close my eyes as a moan whispers past my lips when I sink two fingers into my pussy. Wet, hot and hungry. A noise by the door draws my attention and I look on as Warren crosses the room and places a knee on the bed. In the dark I can feel the heat of his gaze on my hand.

I shudder when his fingers brush over my belly and he slowly pulls my hand away. Eyes wide, I look on as he wraps his lips around my fingers, sucking them clean. Hair tousled and his chest bare, he’s a vision of pure masculinity when he lays between my legs. Before I can protest, whimper or beg, he takes my throbbing clit between hot lips. Large hands sink beneath my ass and I’m devoured and sent reeling into another world when my orgasm hits.

There’s no time to prepare, only to feel.

“Fuck, yes,” he growls against my sensitive folds. Teeth take the flesh and I’m arching off the bed and falling prey to another rush of hot liquid spilling between my thighs. He flicks the tip of his tongue over the hard pleasure nub, and a part of me falls away. No longer belonging to me. It’s his. Just like Daemon holds another piece of my heart.

“You’re a treasure, Jemma. A jewel.” His soft words don’t match the lightning fury I see flash across his face. I can only assume he’s as torn up about the end of our fling as I am. His cock tents a pair of low-slung sweats and when I dip my eyes, he pulls away.

“Sleep while you can. The sun is about to rise. Erik will take you to the airport in the morning and join you on the flight.”

Instead of demanding answers, my brain shuts down as he clips a Ferris wheel charm onto my bracelet opposite the dangling Eiffel tower. And just like that I know it is over.

Fourteen

Jemma

There's nothing colder than Connecticut in February except the silence of not having them in the same room bickering over who makes the next food run while they read contracts, talking out coding issues or quarterly spreadsheets.

Father and Mother have officially cut me out of their lives. I have the icy letter on my dresser to prove it. The final line the coldest of all: Your shame is yours to carry alone.

In the three weeks since the quiet flight home I’ve managed to do absolutely nothing for myself except go to work and sleep.

“I can’t bear to apply for another school.”

“You can’t walk away from getting your degree. You only have a few months left and then you can do whatever it is you want.”

I pick at the ice cream tub sitting between me and Brooklyn, the mint chocolate no longer appetizing. In fact, I feel rather nauseous lately at the slightest taste of food.

“I want them.”

Brooklyn’s hand shoots out to cover mine with a friendly squeeze. “Have you talked with them? Do they know yet?”

I shake my head. I suspected my upset stomach was due to more than just a broken heart. When Brooklyn found me hugging the toilet yesterday morning, we both had a crying session that ended with my best friend running to the drugstore around the corner.

“I need some space to wrap my head around this. None of this was supposed to happen. But I will eventually, especially with…” I point to my stomach. “But right now, I just need to think what I’m going to do next. It hasn’t been easy. I miss them. I’ve texted them a few times. Erik especially.”

Brooklyn takes the ice cream away and pushes a bottle of water into my hand. “They haven’t been to the school for class. They’ve brought in your father to fill in for Erik's lectures. I had no idea class could get harder, but that man has found a way to make me dread advanced mathematics and I LOVE numbers.”

I cringe and take my friend’s hand in mine. My throat grows tight with all the pent-up emotions I have nowhere to release. “I’m sorry. Truly. I didn’t mean to make your life miserable.”

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