Page 3 of Final Girls and F*ck Boys

Time to get to work.

3

A FEW DAYS LATER

“Oh,” I moaned. “Is that what you want? Wanna watch me come on my fingers?” I circled my clit with two fingers, black panties tugged to the side of my bare mound as I faced the camera.

Three fingers from my other hand dipped in and out of my sopping hole, squelching loudly in the empty room. My legs were carelessly thrown over the arms of the chair, giving my audience an uninterrupted view. A shiver worked its way up my spine as my core heated and my juices slid down my hand. Tossing my head back, I hissed at the pleasure.

A ping sounded as my followers typed in their requests. I let out a sultry giggle as I read them, grabbing a vibrator on standby on my desk. “Got your gift right here, honey. Thanks for sending it to me.”

My silver hair slid over my bare shoulders as I adjusted my position, completely removing my lacy thong and stuffing it between my red lips, as a viewer requested. I moaned lasciviously around the cloth between my teeth, voice high-pitched. It was my acting voice, my fake moan, but the customers loved it. I tended to be quiet during sex, so all this noise? Purely for my viewers.

Turning the vibrator on the lowest setting, I set it just above my clit, rotating it in small circles. I breathed into the new feeling of pleasure, my keen muffled from my thong. Pulling my wet fingers from my cunt, I plucked at my nipples before grabbing at my breasts, taking handfuls and digging my nails into the skin hard enough to bruise. One-handed, I clicked the vibrator onto a higher setting, spreading my legs wider and making faster circles as the buzzing ate away at my nerves.

My first orgasm was building quickly, and I pointed my toes, tensing my thighs and calves, holding my breath as I felt it approach. Then, I backed the vibrator off. Body shaking with the loss of near-ecstasy, I laughed at the rapid-fire of pings, indicating more messages. I read them over quickly as I used my fingers to softly stroke myself down from the edge, hips twitching.

“Mmm,” I groaned, arching my back, offering my chest up for a better view as I dipped the vibrator into my clenching, aching pussy. It was curved, with a bulbous end, perfect for hitting that angled spot right. Switching it back on, I started thrusting it in and out, striving for that spot. I hitched my leg up under my elbow as the fingers of that hand strummed my clit quickly. Hips moving, I gyrated in the chair, arching against my hands.

There was nothing better than this, nothing more beautiful than bringing pleasure to yourself, and nothing got me hotter than knowing I was doing it in front of an audience who got off on my pleasure. I always loved being the center of attention, but this took it to a whole new level.

In my fucked up little adopted family, Chamberlain got all the attention—not that he wanted it—but here, now, everyone had their eyes on me. Everyone wantedme.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whined, voice hushed by the thong in my mouth. Because the cloth was drying, my mouth was producing more spit, and it was starting to drool out the edges of my mouth, and I let it. My head thrashed back and forth as the tip of the vibrator struck my g-spot repeatedly, my legs beginning to wobble as a tremor built.

A steady bray of “huh, huh, huh” breaths belted out of me as my orgasm grew nearer and glitter lined the edges of my vision. As my eyes snapped closed, my whole body went taut. I yanked the vibrator out just in time for a gush of liquid to squirt from me, hips jerking, thighs quaking, pussy making an absolute mess of my chair as I yelled out my joy.

I collapsed back into my chair, hand automatically reaching up to brush my hair back before remembering I was wearing the mask I always did during my online performances. I settled for leaning my head on my hand, tugging the thong loose from my mouth with the other as I smiled. I was sure my lipstick was smeared around my mouth from the drool, and I loved it. Sex shouldn’t be clean; it should be messy, sticky, absolutely filthy.

The smile I gave my viewers spoke of my love of grime and filth; it was pure cat-got-the-canary satisfaction. I bid them farewell, telling them I’d see them next week before shutting off my camera. I left the chat up so I could tell the remaining viewers bye before I shut down my laptop, but MorgueDoll was done for the day. I was back to being Priestly King as I slipped the black, nylon half-mask off my face with a happy sigh.

Body sated, I collapsed onto my bed, running my hands over my tingling skin, through the wetness staining my thighs. That reminded me—I needed to clean up the mess my sopping, squirting cunt had made.

As I used a towel and cleaning spray to wipe up my desk and chair, I heard shouting, growling voices, and what sounded like a stampede of elephants coming down the hallway. I rolled myeyes, knowing Chamberlain and his cronies were here. Even as I snarked about them in my mind, a smile played at the edge of my lips.

I’d grown up with Chamberlain and his two best friends—Camber Ashford and Atley Dodge—and most of my childhood was filled with their teasing…but also their protection. Those three never let another kid so much as tug on a strand of my hair without getting a wallop. Being surrounded by three lion-fierce protectors had made dating difficult during my adolescence, at least until they’d left for college three years ago. Now, with them in their senior year at West Windsor University, I’d had my share of dating without their interference.

To my great chagrin, though, my body still lit up anytime I saw Chamberlain and his friends.

I always tried to fight it—he was my adopted brother, damn it—but so much of my childhood revolved around him. My happiest memories were filled with him. Those three swooped into my life like dark, avenging angels, scaring back the darkness and teaching me life’s most important lessons.

Getting older meant growing apart, but they always freed up a few days of summer break for me. Chamberlain hardly spared me a glance most holidays, preferring to pretend I didn’t exist so he didn’t incur his father’s wrath, but Camber and Atley still treated me like the little sister they never had, and I ate up their attention. I had started to worry they wouldn’t have time to visit me this summer until I heard them thundering up the stairs.

I contemplated washing the stench of sex from me until I realized I wanted them to smell it. I wanted them to see me as something other than the broken little kid they used to protect. I was 18 now, and I’d be joining them at West Windsor this August, sooner than that if they were at the mysterious party later this evening.

I toyed with the idea of mentioning it to them before erasing the thought from my mind.

After wiping the smeared lipstick off my mouth, I dressed in a pair of grey joggers that Chamberlain had outgrown years ago and slipped a cropped sweatshirt over my bare chest. It showed off my tight stomach and pierced belly button as I rolled up the band of the joggers about eight hundred times. They were still overly long, but they were unbelievably comfortable with wear and age. My tombstone-colored toenails peeked out from the bottom as I wiggled them, my toe rings glinting. I yanked the twin braids out of my hair, throwing my shoulder-length silver strands up into a messy bun. Grabbing my deodorant, I swiped a few times under my arms before capping it—I wanted to smell like sex, not stink.

Swiping my phone off the dresser, I checked my messages as I exited my room. My best friend, Sawyer, had replied to the text I’d sent her earlier, asking what time she’d be over to start getting ready for the Summer-ween party tonight. I messaged her back as I knocked on Chamberlain’s door. I heard the grumble of his voice before I opened it wide, smirking as all three heads swiveled in my direction.

God, I loved having their undivided attention.

Atley was the closest to the door, lounging in Chamberlain’s desk chair. He was a hulking beast of a man; muscular, yes, but mostly, just the sheer size of him was overwhelming. Atley soared well over six feet tall, closer to seven than anything else. His body dwarfed the chair he sat in, legs spread wide, eating up the space in front of him.

I bit my lip as I took him in.

Close-cropped black hair with tight curls framed thick, arched brows. Shaved sides showed off his heavily pierced ears. His pierced nose was slightly crooked, something that had changed since I’d last seen him. Hazel eyes were bright againstthe brown of his skin, and a constellation of freckles sat over his cheeks, barely visible against his dark summer tan. He smiled at me, his teeth bright white.

---