Page 86 of Deliver us from Evil

When I come, the world stops.

I can’t breathe.

My body locks up.

And then the agony of pure bliss hits me. Warm wetness slides out of me as Rube starts fucking me. As Zach eases his cock in and out of my backdoor.

“Fuck her harder,” Cass commands behind me. “I want to hear her scream.”

And they hold me down so Rube can do just that.

And I do scream.

And then I cry.

And then I come again while I’m still recovering from my last orgasm.

But when Rube’s ready, and I see his face tightening, feel his dick throb, I grab his face and I kiss him as hard as I can.

Because I’m theirs. Wholly. Truly. To do with whatever they please. To admire, to worship, to satisfy, to fuck.

All they ask is that I accept the fact that they all need me. Each and every one of them.

And I do.

Because I need them just as much.

I’ve finally found my real family. They’re kind and loving and genuine.

Everything a family should be.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Trinity

I’m met with the aroma of baking bread, coffee, and bacon when I walk downstairs. My mouth is already watering by the time I reach the kitchen and see Cass at the cooker.

“Smells incredible,” I tell him, sliding onto one of the bar stools in the breakfast nook so I can watch him while he cooks.

I never knew he was such a keen chef. But he’s a hedonist like me, and food is one of our weaknesses.

He turns, bathing me with a gorgeous smile as he takes me in from head to toe. “Morning, my beautiful mess,” he says.

I laugh, not even bothering to disagree.

My curls are all over the place, the shirt I found on the floor to cover up my nakedness before coming downstairs happens to be Apollo’s too-big vest, and I’m pretty sure I have at least five hickeys on my neck.

Don’t forget the fact that I barely had any sleep last night. I’m surprised I’m not walking with a limp.

“This beautiful mess needs coffee,” I groan, but Cass puts up his spatula in warning when I attempt to climb off my bar stool.

“What did I say about setting foot in my kitchen when I’m cooking?”

I quirk an eyebrow at him, but I stay where I am. I’ve had my ass pummeled with that spatula before, and I don’t think I can handle that level of sheer eroticism so early in the morning.

Not without coffee.

Not while Cass is wearing my cooking apron.

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