I turn and walk away.
thirteen
Gloria Walton
“Colt,” I cry, trying to rise off Maverick again. “Wait!”
Maverick grabs my hips, holding me pinned, and grinds his dick up into me. “Yeah, wait,” he drawls after Colt. “What’s this shit about you getting married?”
Colt stops at the door, slowly turning back.
Images tumble through my mind—the look on his face when he walked in, not just anger or disbelief but genuine hurt; the hundreds of pairs of panties tumbling over us, white and pink and yellow and blue, like a swarm of butterflies plummeting from the sky.
“What is this?” I ask, picking up a handful and letting them fall back onto the bed.
“It’s your underwear,” he says flatly. “And your sisters’, if I had to guess. Your mom probably wasn’t too fussy about which pair she put with which picture.”
Picture.
I hadn’t even thought of that, but of course perverts buying used panties online want pictures of the hot teenage girl who wore them before they jerked off into them.
I want to pull the sheet over my face and never let anyone see it again.
“Why—how did you get these?”
“I bought them back,” he says, like it’s that simple. “Well, after I hired a hacker to track them down.”
“You did that for me?” I whisper, my throat suddenly thick.
“Isn’t that nice?” Maverick asks, pulling the sheet down from where I’m holding it up with one hand. “Don’t you want to thank him?”
“What?” I whisper, my gaze flying to his.
He grabs my ass in both hands and squeezes, then spreads my cheeks for Colt to see.
“You ever fuck a cheerleader in the ass?” he asks over my shoulder. “Look at it. It’s so pretty and pink, like a tight little pussy. I bet you can make it gape.”
And even though Colt’s seen every inch of me, seen my legs spread in his face, watched me cum so hard I nearly blacked out, I’ve never felt half as exposed I do as now—or as cheap. The thought of him seeing me stretched around Maverick’s thick, pierced cock makes me want to hide under more than the sheet. It makes me want to disappear in a wisp of smoke, burned alive by shame.
“I don’t do that,” I hiss at Mav, my face a scorching inferno.
“Come on, babe, it’s just a little anal,” he says, sliding his middle finger down my spread crack and tapping at my rear entrance. I tense, and he chuckles and circles his finger around the knot of muscle, slowly massaging it. “Show him how you can take two cocks at once. Sweet little girl-next-door types don’t date gangster so they can stay innocent.”
“I don’t like it,” I whisper, my whole body clenching up as a shudder of fear passes over me.
He groans and grinds up into me, grabbing my ass again and pumping me up and down his shaft. “Come on, ese, join the party,” he says to Colt, who hasn’t moved from the door. He stands watching, his jaw clenched, his expression unreadable. “How long has it been since we fucked a girl together?”
I whip my head back around to face Maverick, my eyes wide. “What? No,” I breathe, not wanting Colt to hear. It’s bad enough that he’s seen us. “Tell him to leave!”
“Go on, grab some lube,” Maverick drawls, gesturing lazily to the tube on the bedside table.
Colt scoffs. “She’s never needed lube for me.”
My face flames hotter, and I bury my face in Maverick’s inked shoulder. “I told you, I don’t like being shared,” I mutter into his neck.
“Relax, we’ll get you warmed up first. It doesn’t hurt all that much if you do it right. You might love it.”
“I’ve done it,” I grit out. “I hate it.”