Page 24 of Final Girls and F*ck Boys

“What…what do you mean?” My voice came out breathy, needy. I knew, on some level, that I was about to give themsomething deeper than just my body, but I wanted it. I wanted itdesperately.

Atley grinned from his position between my thighs, his fingers digging lightly into my hips. “We want to mark you, Priestly. We want to mark you with something that’ll last, something that makes you ours.”

I sucked in a breath, my pulse pounding in my throat. Their eyes were on me, waiting for my response, watching every flicker of emotion cross my face. The idea of being theirs—truly theirs, in a way that couldn’t be undone—thrilled me in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

Chamberlain’s thumb brushed over my lower lip, coaxing me back into focus. “Do you want this?” he asked quietly, though the question was more about confirmation than permission.

I hesitated for just a heartbeat before nodding, my voice barely a whisper. “Yes. I want it.”

The decision sent a ripple through the three of them, a shift in the air that made everything feel sharper, more intense. Camber moved closer, his eyes dark as he pulled something small from his jacket pocket. It glinted under the dim light, catching my attention as he unwrapped a thin, precise blade.

My pulse quickened, the sight of the blade sending a shiver of both excitement and fear down my spine. Camber's expression remained stoic as he glanced at Chamberlain and Atley, who nodded in silent agreement.

“You’re about to become one of us,” Chamberlain murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of my jaw. “And you’ll carry our marks with you always.”

I didn’t flinch. Instead, I stared up at them with wide eyes, my body already quivering under their touch. Camber held the blade carefully, his steady hand grazing the flat edge against my skin, testing it.

Chamberlain’s lips curled into a smile as he leaned in, brushing a kiss against my forehead. “Good girl.”

Then, with deliberate care, Camber placed the tip of the blade just above my hip. The sting was sharp but quick, the feeling somehow thrilling as the blade bit into my skin. I hissed through clenched teeth, but my body didn’t pull away. I wanted this—wanted to feel the permanence of their claim.

Chamberlain leaned closer, watching the red bloom under the blade as Camber carved the first initial, slow and steady. His dark eyes were locked onto mine the entire time, watching my reaction, gauging my pain and pleasure.

A small “C” formed slowly, etched delicately into the soft skin just above my hipbone. It wasn’t deep—just enough to leave a scar, to remind me who I belonged to. Chamberlain’s fingers brushed over the fresh mark, smearing a bit of blood before he leaned down, kissing the raw skin with a possessive, almost reverent touch.

"Now, you'll always remember who brought you into this," he whispered, the dark satisfaction in his voice unmistakable.

Before I could catch my breath, Atley moved in next. He took the blade from Camber, the grin on his face wild and hungry. His fingers gripped my other hip, positioning the blade just above where his thumb rested. The sting of the cut was sharper this time, but I was already lost in the sensation, my body humming with adrenaline.

I didn’t look away. I watched him the entire time, my lips parting as he carved his initial into my skin—an “A,” just above my other hip. The pain blurred with the pleasure, every nerve in my body on fire as Atley leaned down, licking the fresh blood from my skin.

“You look perfect with our marks,” he growled, his eyes flashing as he pressed a hard, possessive kiss against my lips.

Camber, silent and focused, was the last to take his turn. His eyes held mine as he positioned the blade on my inner thigh, the most sensitive place yet. Sharp pain shot through me, a gasp catching in my throat as he slowly carved his second initial into my flesh.

But by now, the pain was secondary to the burning need inside me. Every cut felt like another layer of ownership, another thread binding me to them. When Camber finished, he pressed his lips against the mark, his breath hot against my thigh. I could feel his desire in that touch, his quiet need burning beneath his calm exterior.

For a moment, the room seemed to go still, the weight of what had just happened settling over us. I was theirs now, branded in a way that could never be erased. The reality of that settled in my chest like a heavy, satisfying ache.

Chamberlain stood at the head of the bed, his hand caressing my cheek. “Now,” he said, his voice deep and rough, “we make you ours in every way.”

Atley didn’t hesitate. He gripped my hips, pulling me closer to him, the head of his cock pressing into my entrance. I was already soaked, my body begging for him as he thrust inside me in one smooth motion.

I cried out, my back arching off the bed as he filled me to the hilt. Atley’s grip tightened, his fingers pressing into the raw cuts he’d just made as he began to move, each thrust deep and purposeful. He groaned, his eyes never leaving mine as he claimed me with every stroke, his breath hot against my skin.

Camber moved to my side, his hand wrapping around the back of my neck as his lips captured mine in a kiss that was both soft and demanding. His fingers found my breasts, teasing my nipples as Atley fucked me, driving me higher and higher with every thrust.

Chamberlain stroked himself, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of me writhing beneath them, his control slipping as he watched us. “She looks so good taking you, Atley,” he muttered, his voice rough.

Atley grinned through his groan. “She was made for us.”

I felt that truth in every bone, every cut on my skin, every breath that left my lungs. I belonged to them now, claimed in every way that mattered.

The night was far from over, and I was ready to give them everything.

20

The first gray light of dawn seeped through the shattered windows of Windsor Manor, casting pale, silvery rays across the ruined grandeur of the room. The night had passed in a blur of darkness and sensation, leaving me drained and raw, yet strangely content. I was still, lying on a cold, ancient floor, the weight of the night pressing down on me like a heavy blanket. My body ached, but it was a good ache, a reminder of everything I had endured, everything I had become.

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