Page 22 of Final Girls and F*ck Boys

Camber remained silent, his gaze piercing, as though he could see straight through me, down to my very soul. He stepped forward, his hand brushing against the small of my back as he moved, his touch brief but searing. He didn’t speak, but the look he gave me was enough to set my blood on fire.

And then, they closed in around me, a living wall of heat and power, their presence suffocating, intoxicating. I was surrounded, consumed by them, their bodies pressing close, their touches igniting every nerve in my body. It was overwhelming, the intensity of it all, the sensation of being claimed, of being owned.

Chamberlain’s hands gripped my bare shoulders, his breath hot against my ear. “You belong to us now,” he growled, his voice thick with possession. “Mind, body, soul. Every part of you.”

Atley’s fingers trailed down my arm, his touch feather-light but leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “And we take care of what’s ours,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the pulse point in my wrist.

Camber’s hand settled on my waist, his grip firm, grounding me in the whirlwind of sensation. “You’re in this for life,” he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my bones. “There’s no going back.”

I felt the weight of their words, the gravity of what I’d just committed to, but instead of fear, all I felt was a deep, primal satisfaction. This was where I belonged, where I was meant to be—surrounded by darkness, by power, by them.

Chamberlain tilted my head back, forcing me to meet his gaze once more. “Say it again,” he demanded, his voice rough, commanding. “Say you’re ours.”

I let the words slip past my lips, a whisper, a promise, a surrender. “I’m yours.”

And in that moment, I knew it to be true.

I was theirs.

Mind, body, soul.

Forever.

18

The air in the room was thick with anticipation, charged with the unspoken electricity that came from knowing something momentous was about to happen. I could feel it in my bones, in the very breath I drew as I stood there, my eyes darting between them—Camber, Chamberlain, and Atley, each watching me with an intensity that made my skin hum.

They had invited me here, to their private sanctuary, deep in the shadows of West Windsor’s forgotten wings. The walls were adorned with masks, old relics of their secret society, the air scented with something rich and woodsy. I felt as if I was stepping into something ancient, a tradition with roots deeper than I could fathom. This was more than just sex—this was initiation, a binding, a vow made with skin and sweat.

Chamberlain, ever the leader, took a step toward me, his black sleeves pushed up to his elbows, exposing his strong forearms. He was the one who had first lured me into this web, even as a child, with his dark green, unreadable eyes locking onto mine as though he saw through every one of my defenses. He didn’t need to say anything to command attention; his presence alone was enough to dominate the room.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice low and gravelly as his fingers trailed up my arm, sending a shiver skittering down my spine.

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. This was it—no going back after tonight, but the ache between my legs had already made the decision for me. I nodded, unable to trust my voice, though the need in my body was louder than any word I could have spoken.

His eyes softened just slightly, and then he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Good.”

A hand wrapped around my waist—Atley. He stood behind me, his solid body pressing into mine, the warmth of him seeping into me. He was so different from Chamberlain—wild where Chamberlain was controlled, reckless in his need. His hand slid lower, over the curve of my hip, his breath hot against my neck.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Atley growled, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of my neck.

Chamberlain’s hand tilted my chin up, drawing my attention back to him. His gaze was dark, intense, and it made my knees weak. He held my face in his hands, his thumbs stroking my cheeks with a tenderness at odds with the hunger in his eyes. Then, slowly, he dipped his head, capturing my lips in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, a claiming. His mouth was hot against mine, his tongue sweeping over my bottom lip before plunging inside, tasting me, devouring me.

I moaned into his mouth, my body trapped between the two of them—Chamberlain’s kiss consuming me from the front, Atley’s hands sliding down my stomach, fingers brushing low on my stomach. My pulse pounded.

“I want to taste you again.” Camber’s deep, quiet voice cut through the haze, and I turned my head toward him. He had been watching, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed overhis broad chest. His expression was unreadable, but his dark eyes were burning with intensity.

Chamberlain pulled back from the kiss, his thumb tracing my swollen bottom lip. “Let him,” he said softly, stepping aside to let Camber approach.

My legs were already trembling, my body thrumming with need as Camber knelt in front of me, his large hands settling on my thighs. He looked up at me through the thick fringe of his lashes, and the sight of him—this powerful, stoic man on his knees for me once more—made something inside me twist with desire.

“Spread your legs for me, Priestly,” Camber said, his voice quiet but firm.

I did as he asked, widening my stance just enough for him to fit between my legs. The anticipation was nearly unbearable, my skin burning with the need to feel his mouth on me.

Camber’s breath was hot against my skin as he kissed the inside of my thigh, his lips trailing higher, inch by agonizing inch, until I could feel the warmth of his breath against my slick center. I bit my lip, my hands gripping Atley’s forearms for support as Camber’s tongue flicked out, tasting me and surely the remnants of his cum from earlier.

“Oh, fuck,” I gasped, my head falling back against Atley’s chest as Camber’s tongue found my clit, his lips wrapping around the sensitive nub and sucking gently.

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