Page 48 of The Queen
Oliver’s fingers dig into my hips as he thrusts harder, his other hand slapping against my flushed skin as well. With each smack, a bolt of desire shoots straight to my core.
Raphael grips my chin, tilting my head up to meet his intense gaze. “You’re ours,” he says fiercely. “Only ours.”
I can only nod because I belong to them—body and soul. Their possession is absolute, and it’s exactly what I crave.
James shuffles forward, his cock pressing against my lips. I suck him in eagerly, drawing him deep into my mouth. Their coordinated pounding sends vibrations through me, intensifying the pleasure.
“I’m coming,” Raph pants. “Fuck, I’m coming in your cunt, little killer.”
He grunts, his body shuddering as he empties himself into me. The feel of him losing control pushes me over the edge again. I scream around James’s cock, my climax tearing through me.
Tarquin and Oliver aren’t far behind, pulled over the edge. Tarquin fills my ass with his hot cum, right before Oliver groans,and his cock pulses out cum all over Tarquin’s cock, still rammed into my ass.
“Such a good little slut,” Oliver rasps. “All this cum filling your holes. What does it feel like to be so filthy?”
“Fucking glorious!” I yell, pulling my mouth off James’s cock so he can cum all over my face and tits.
“Jesus,” Oliver pants, pulling out of me slowly. “Filthy girl.”
My entire body is shaking from the intensity of our shared orgasms, and I collapse on Raph’s chest.
“We’ll take care of you,” Oliver whispers, brushing a strand of hair from my face. He bends down to kiss me softly on the mouth. It’s a tender gesture that contrasts with the roughness we just indulged in.
Tarquin leans down and kisses the tattoo on my back as James’s fingers tangle gently in my hair.
I’ve never felt more cherished than I do in this moment. These men have seen every side of me—the ruthless mafia boss-in-training and the vulnerable woman who craves their touch—and they love it all. It’s in the way they handle me with such care now, their touches soft and reverent.
Raph’s arms tighten around me, his breath calming as he strokes my back. “You did so good for us, little killer,” he praises in a low rumble that vibrates against my ear.
I let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of the world slide off for just a moment while I’m surrounded by their embrace. “This is perfect. You are all perfect for me.”
“You are perfect for us,” James whispers, pulling my head up so he can drop a kiss on my lips. “You aren’t afraid of the darkness we bring.”
“Never afraid,” I murmur before he deepens his kiss, twisting his tongue around mine, working me up all over again.
22
ELIZA
Lounging on my bed,my fingers flicking the cream envelope around and around. Eventually, deciding it’s not going to speak to me, and I’m going to have to read it to see what it says, I tear open the official seal. Inside, the heavy cardstock unfolds to reveal Vice Chancellor Peters’ neat script:
“Miss Eliza Hughes, it is with great pleasure that we invite you to be crowned Queen of Castle at the upcoming ceremony in two days’ time.”
Queen of Castle.
The title sits heavy on my chest suddenly.
It’s funny, you know? Here I am, about to be crowned some sort of campus royalty when the real crown I’m in line for is made of blood and sin. I close my eyes, letting the moment wash over me. Memories flash like gunfire. Strategy sessions, whispered conversations in dark corners, learning every inch of the family business until the lines between legal and not blurred into nothing.
I’ve come a long way from the little girl who used to sit on her father’s knee, watching the world with wide green eyes. Now, those eyes calculate risks and alliances.
But it’s all part of the game, isn’t it? You don’t get born into the Hughes family without expecting to play your part, and if that means my university life is less about keg stands and more about keeping me and my men safe from the shadows that want to see us fall, then so be it.
Tossing it aside with a smile, knowing this is what I was sent here for, it’s just a formality. Every fucker here knows I’m it, but the validation will be nice for those who disagree.
I flip through a history textbook, trying to distract myself with the rise and fall of empires, when there’s a soft knock at the door. It’s not one of my guys; it’s softer. I slide off the bed, bare feet padding across the floor as I make my way to the door.
“Hey,” I say, opening it, surprised to see this girl hovering in the hallway. “Imogen, what’s up?”
