Page 72 of Quinlan

The wall isn’t an obstacle to either one of us as we wrangle her jacket off her until it falls to the floor.

“Everything.”

“Like lying is wrong?” Rome asks.

“Stop it,” she mumbles. Doesn’t fight us. Doesn’t resist. Just mumbles and watches the three of us.

“You’re right, Rome. She’s lying.” Damien’s eyes rake over her body, his knuckles tracing the spot he sucked on. “Would you have screamed if you knew who Rome was?”

“What, a stalker? A manipulative asshole?” She’s breathing hard, eyes accusing us. All of us. “You can bet your ass I would.”

“Oh, little flame. Look at you, hiding how badly you need us.” My fingers curl on the underside of her breast, relishing in the weight of it in my palm. She stays still, letting me brush my thumb on her nipple. “There’s no shame in wanting to be fucked.Craving three men instead of one. You can tell us how wet you are. How your panties are ruined. Or we can see for ourselves.”

I’m being cruel. I’m searching for consent. A sliver of it.

We won’t be the cause Quinlan disintegrates into nothing.

“We could take care of that for you.” Damien turns on the charm. Only her eyes slide to him, since Rome’s hold on her is relentless. “We’ll stretch all your holes, darling. Make you cry. You’ll be our whore, and you’ll love it, won’t you?”

“You wish, asshole,” she snarls, infuriated and visibly turned on. A bright shade of red creeps on her cheeks. “I’m no one’s whore.”

“Anyone else…” Damien trails his hand up her arm until his hand mirrors mine, cupping the underside of Quinlan’s other breast. “Any other liar—”

“Not. A. Liar,” she cuts him off.

Her heart beats against my palm. Pupils dilate. Goosebumps rake up her arms.

“You’re beautiful when you lie.” Rome presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “You get me so hard. You want me to lose control? Is that it? You’re that desperate to be filled?”

“No, I…” The rest of the sentence is nothing but air.

“Say it,” I repeat, louder than I would’ve liked. Louder than I’m used to. “Tell us you want us to touch you, or we’ll check ourselves. We won’t be gentle about it, either.”

“We’ll tear your dress off you.” Rome slides his hand lower. Hooks his fingers in the keyhole neckline of her dress for emphasis. “You’ll walk out of here naked. Too bad your miserable date will have any idea what to do with you.”

“Not my date.”

“With tears streaking your cheeks.” Damien nudges my thumb with his, telling me he’s running out of patience. “Filthy with our cum on your mouth. Cheeks. Breasts. That’s how you’re going to get out there if you keep lying, darling.”

Her body shivers. She likes the idea. Curious.

“I will never be your whore.”

“What would you call this”—I flick my thumb, brushing her hardened nipple, and I fucking groan—“if not our whore?”

“I don’t belong to you.” The challenge in her voice matches that in her large, gray eyes. “I’m my own person. I’m not yours anything. If you want to touch me tonight, though…”

Her voice trails. Silence ensues. Her body pulses with desire. With the need to say words I assume she hasn’t told anyone before us. Much less to her loser of an ex.

“Yes?” Damien torments Quinlan by pinching her nipple.

“You can…” Her groan. I could swallow it up. Swear off food and just live from her groans.

The slightest shove of Rome’s shoulder, and my lips crush onto Quinlan’s. She groans again,for me. This isn’t frustration. This is lust. She’s wide awake, fighting me. Wanting me.

“Please.” Her hand is on my scar. The slightest brush of her gentle fingers to the damaged tissues.

I’m letting her do it. I never let anyone touch me there. Never let anyone get close.

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