Page 49 of From the Ashes

“Such a good girl for us, love.” Bishop runs his fingers through her hair as he hands me the plug and helps me to cover the bulbous head with lube.

I withdraw my fingers quickly and press the cool metal to her asshole, allowing her to catch her breath before I press it forward.

“Oh god,” she cries out, leaning her head against Bishop’s thigh.

“You’re doing so good, Camilla,” I tell her, using my free hand to stroke her hip. “Take a deep breath for me and then let it out. Let me fill your ass.”

She moans but does exactly as instructed, and I can’t help but feel a little smug about how easily she trusts us with her body despite everything we’ve put her through.

I press the plug deep as she exhales, and a small cry fills the room as it settles inside her. The pink jewel stares back at me and I grasp my cock through my slacks. Fuck, I need to get inside her, and we’ve barely just begun.

“Switch with me,” I force through gritted teeth.

Bishop lifts Camilla’s face to give her a gentle kiss and whisper soft praises to her while I cross the room to the small sink and wash my hands.

By the time I return, he’s climbing off the edge of the bed, and I quickly take his place. “I need your sassy mouth, Little Menace,” I grit out as I unzip my pants, and my cock almost slaps her in the face in its haste for freedom.

I reach for the blindfold and make quick work of untying it. I need to see her eyes while I fuck her throat. I need her tears while I take what I need from her.

She blinks a few times as the dim lighting in the room comes into focus, and when she looks up, at me I swear the heart I thought died twenty-three years ago when Bishop’s mother died in my arms swells to twice its size.

The trust, and dare I say love, staring back at me is so fucking beautiful I can barely breathe, and my cock weeps for relief.

“You gonna suck my cock, baby?” I murmur, brushing my thumb over her cheek gently.

She nods as she drags her bottom lip between her teeth. “Yes, Daddy.”

I groan and fist my hand in her hair, pulling her down until my cock is pressing against her pouty lips. “Good fucking girl,” I groan as she opens her lips and my cock slips inside her warm mouth.

She moans around me, and when I look over her shoulder, I see Bishop running his hands over her ass, careful not to disrupt the cuts Kovu carved into her skin. I should be madder about it. The last time he left lasting marks on one of the women we were seeing, she ran for the fucking hills. But if anything, I think Camilla likes the possession. She likes the confirmation that she belongs to us every bit as much as we belong to her.

I press her deeper, my hands resting on the back of her head to hold her where I need her, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough with her, and I don’t think it will matter how many times I fuck her or how many times I’ll have her in this very position, every time, I’ll grow more addicted.

Because Camilla De Marco is everything I never knew I needed, and there isn’t a chance in hell I’m ever letting her go.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

BISHOP

Ireach for the vibrator sitting among the silk sheets and switch it to a low setting, but Camilla is too distracted to hear the buzzing.

Perfect.

The plug nestled in her ass gleams back at me as I bring the black silicone to her pussy, and the first touch of the vibration against her clit almost sends her flying forward into Crew.

“Gotta stay still, love,” I reprimand, removing my hand for long enough to slap her clit before immediately returning it, causing her to cry out around him.

I move the vibrator through her wetness, and the moan that escapes her is so fucking hot I can’t help but grasp my cock in my free hand and give it a few hard pumps. I’m fucking desperate to get inside her, but we’re trying to teach her a lesson not to run from us.

This thing between the five of us is never going to work if we all retreat anytime shit goes sideways because, guess what? Relationships with this many people aren’t easy. They’re messy and they’re complicated and Camilla is bound to be angry at someone on any given day, but that doesn’t mean she needs to run.

Crew tugs her head up, and she stares at him with wide eyes before turning them on me. “Please, Bishop. I need more. I need to come. Please.”

“Fuck, you’re pretty when you beg,” I groan.

Crew grasps her chin between his fingers and forces her to look up at him. “You are not to come until we give you the green light. You got it?”

She nods. “Okay.” There’s an uncertainty in her voice that I both love and hate. I want her to know we’ll always be here to catch her when she falls, but there’s a part of me that fucking loves seeing her stumble because that means we get to catch her.

---