Page 80 of Forged By Shadows

Sliding the condom over his cock, I lie there, appreciating Dax’s size and the deeply-ingrained V lining his abdomen. Dax is a sculpted work of art, the sinew of muscles tensing when he shifts. His blue eyes raise to mine and I’m lost, ready for this man to do whatever he wants to me.

He enters me slowly, teasingly, his cock stretching me in the most delicious way. The cool sensation of the condom is a stark contrast to the heat building between us. I gasp, my back arching off the table, my legs trembling against his chest. Dax's grip on my thighs tightens, and I can feel his control slipping as he pushes deeper, filling me completely. Once fully seated, Dax withdraws and slams in with harsh, swift thrusts. I gasp, tensing in all the right places.

Garrett moves to my side, his hand coming to rest on my forehead, smoothing back the strands of hair that cling to my skin. I’m certain he’s making more of a mess than he’s fixing, but I can’t complain. His touch is gentle, a grounding presence amidst the overwhelming pleasure. He leans down, his lips brushing against my ear.

"How does he feel?" he whispers, his voice a soothing counterpoint to Dax's rough, primal movements.

"Perfect," I manage to breathe out, my fingers curling around the edges of the table, holding on for dear life. Every movement sends electric sparks shooting through my body, each thrust hitting that perfect spot that makes my vision blur. Axel appears at my other side, his boxers firmly in place. He smiles stupidly like a man sated while a lone finger circles my nipple.

Dax's pace quickens, the sounds of our bodies coming together filling the air, mingling with our gasps and moans. The UV lights cast an otherworldly glow across our skin, highlighting the slick sheen of sweat and the streaks of paint decorating us. It's surreal, a vivid explosion of color and sensation. I’ll have many drunk dreams about this later.

Axel’s hands slide over my body, squeezing my breasts, tweaking my nipples just enough to send another wave of pleasure coursing through me. Both his and Garrett’s touches are light, teasing, and completely opposite to Dax's unrelenting drive. I turn my head, capturing Garrett's lips in a desperate kiss, needing to feel him, to connect with him amidst the whirlwind. Fingers graze my clit and I hear the sharp slap of Dax nudging whoever it is away.

“Avery is only coming for me tonight.” I drop my head back against the table, savoring that frantic growl. I didn’t know I needed to hear it, but now, all I want is for Dax to talk to me that way. Dark, dirty and desperate.

Dax's rhythm becomes erratic, his breath coming in ragged gasps. I can feel him throbbing inside me, so close to the edge. His hands slide from my thighs to my hips, pulling me even closer, deeper, his thrusts growing more frantic. The sensation is almost too much, pushing me higher. My orgasm reaches its peak at the same time his does. I cry out, my body convulsing as Dax groans, his own release a powerful, shuddering explosion.

We collapse together, Dax's body heavy and comforting over mine. Garrett's arms wrap around us both, holding us close, his breath warm and steady against my skin. Axel continues his gentle, lazy strokes along my sides. The world slowly comes back into focus, the glowing aftermath of our passion a soft, comforting haze.

"Garrett," I murmur, feeling the weight of exhaustion and satisfaction settle over me. He hums his acknowledgement. “This was a really good fucking idea.”

“I hope you didn’t doubt me for a second.” I can’t suppress my giggle, and even Dax huffs a laugh. We all doubted him, but he definitely came through. Garrett's lips press against my forehead, a tender kiss I lean into.

"You're a work of art, Peach. Painting you was at the top of my to-do list. The rest was inevitable."

Chapter Fifty Four

Whenever I think it can’t get any worse, my finger slips on the laptop mousepad and it gets so much fucking worse. It started with curiosity. Within an hour, I was consumed.

Avery did come to me last night, freshly showered and unconscious within seconds. I cradled her body, inhaling her hair, but I couldn’t sleep.

I’m in recovery, confined to my room and the one time I leave - I let Avery suck me off. Guilt racks my mind. I don’t want her to feel indebted to me. I’d have taken a bullet for anyone in that house, and despite Garrett’s offering, I wouldn’t have expected any sexual favors in return. It should be the same with Avery.

And add to that the fact that I’m currently useless physically, possibly mentally, there was nothing else to do but hold her all night, wide awake and fully aware of my downfalls. If I’m not the bodyguard of the group, who am I and what use am I to anyone?

So here I am. Out of my room, as far as the dining table and trying to help in the only way I can. Investigation. Clicking on the next website, my stomach rolls. It’s a necessary evil - to know who may have ill intent towards Avery, I need to understand her. To know about her life before and after her adoption.

I close my eyes, needing a moment to focus on breathing before my lungs seize up. I need to know every fact. Every sickening detail. Which is the only reason I find myself clicking onto the next article.

First Look Exclusive: See the childhood home of adopted Hope Hughes.

That’s what the media called her at first, before they knew her real name. I’ve read through many articles which described Wyatt as a spoiled, problem child, and referred to Avery as the Hughes’ new ‘hope’ at their perfect family becoming complete. Did Wyatt know at that time? Did he know the entire world was labeling him, turning on him. Their relationship never stood a chance to be based on anything other than hatred.

Scrolling down, image after image sprawls beneath the headline, a small house with boarded windows and multiple locks on the door. Mess litters the floor in each room, most of which consists of beer cans and dirty clothing. Furniture has been shoved aside, a sign of a struggle. Is that where the police apprehended him? Then there’s where Avery was kept. Not a room, but a closet, with soiled sheets and scratches in the wooden walls. My stomach rolls.

If only I’d known. I watched Wyatt scare her, force her to relive past traumas. And every time, Avery would bounce back with twice the vigor as before. I didn’t want to consider the anguish she felt. None of us did. We wanted to live in a world where Wyatt’s anger was fleeting, where his hatred was biased and unjust, and no one would really dare to hurt the precious woman who crawls into my bed whimpering at night. She’s too precious, too innocent, but fuck me, she’s so strong. How she is functioning on a daily basis is a mystery.

But I did know. I read her transcripts. And I still let it happen.

Figures shift around the dining room, people walking past my chair. I pay them no mind, until a shadow leans over my shoulder.

“Whatcha doing?” Garrett cocks his head. “Is this some new docuseries I should know about?” I huff and shake my head. Sensing me tense, he lowers into the seat at my right. He’s read the captions. I keep going. Next image, next page. I scour the words, absorbing Avery’s pain as if it lives within the black and white text. Next paragraph, next write-up.

“Woah,” Dax comments. I didn’t realize he had joined us, or that Axel is in the chair on my other side. “He was released.” I’ve latched onto the same headline as him. Frederick Walters, Avery’s father and abuser, was released from prison months ago.

“Oh, hey!” Avery passes by. I quickly slam the laptop shut. “You left your room again!” She pushes through the crowd of bodies, her attention solely on me. Kissing my head, she wraps her arms around my neck. “I knew you could do it.”

Tears prick in my eyes. She’s praising me for walking down a flight of stairs, but we’ve never truly appreciated that she’s walked through hell. That she walked away from one fuck-up and into the home of another. I’ve never felt angry with Wyatt before, no matter what he’s done. I know in his mind, he feels justified. It’s just a little hazing, what’s the harm? A little smell of whiskey. A few harsh words. Now I see clearer, and I no longer permit him to taunt her. I stand with Avery.

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