Page 25 of Beautiful Delusions

Ignoring the others holding my hands, Kyan’s arms snake their way around my shoulders as we climb the porch steps.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs into my hair, his concern evident in his voice. I nod, feeling the weight of their support–a stark difference from the hollow emptiness that used to fill my days.

“I’ll be fine in the morning,” I sigh, suddenly tired. Ezra pulls me to a stop at the top step, his chest rumbling and his eyes glacial.

“Do I want to know what this Jude did, or will it land me in jail?” I smile but shake my head. This is my fight to bear, and today is the closest I’ve ever felt to winning it.

“They've taken enough from me already. I won't let them take you too.” My words hang in the air. Glancing up, I see understanding reflected in all of their curious eyes, and I hope they feel the depth of my sincerity.

“Well, at least we have our parent’s approval in choosing you,” Lucas says softly, cupping my cheek. I bite back a smile.

“I’m sure they liked all your other pets just the same.” Lucas brushes his thumb over my lips and shrugs.

“Wouldn’t know. You’re the only one they’ve ever met.” My smile drops. Kyan presses his chest into my back.

“And just to throw it out there–our mother wasn’t meant to be bidding in the auction tonight, considering it was for her charity.” I close my eyes and have to focus on standing. My feet are throbbing in these heels, but it’s my head that wobbles. Isabella’s charity for abandoned and abused children, how could I have been so dense? Is that what she saw in me, a child who needed rescuing?

“Stop thinking, Feisty One,” Lucas tips my head up, his hand skating across my neck. “You’re going to give us all a headache at this rate.” His hand leaves me then, but only long enough to unlock the front door and urge me to follow. Inside, the house is quiet and peaceful; no sign of the basketball team who use this place as a crash pad. No, tonight, it’s a refuge from the outside world. The muted colors of the living room invite me to sink into the plush couch and exhale the tension that's been building all night.

The boys settle around me, Ezra drawing my legs onto his lap. My head is in Kyan’s, and Lucas takes the floor, lowering his head on my ribs. Their presence is an anchor as I let my thoughts wander. Memories of the past–the anxiety, the hallucinations, the crushing weight of pills–threaten to resurface, but I push them away. I've fought too hard and come too far to be dragged back into that darkness.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible above the gentle hum of the air conditioner. “For everything.”

Ezra's reaction is almost imperceptible; a slight tilt of his head in my direction, but I feel the warmth of his smile rather than see it.

“We're here for you, Sophia. No matter what.”

Istir the next morning with my front pressed against the warmth of a solid back. My lips press kisses against the shoulder blade beneath my face, marveling at the sweet soreness between my legs and utter lack of headache. A rumbling moan sounds, a mop of dark hair against the pillow. Ezra. Surprisingly, he’s remained close all through the night, even when I came to Lucas’ tongue running along the length of my slit. I thought I dreamt the way he sucked and hounded my clit, and the amount of fingers which were inside me, but I can tell now it was very much real.

Slipping out from beneath the sheets, I dress in someone’s discarded t-shirt and sweatpants, following the scent of sweet baking towards the kitchen. Pancakes with syrup perhaps? I realize halfway down the stairs that my arms are uncovered, and I miss a step. Jazzie is smirking at me from the bottom as I right myself.

Starting to feel a bit too comfortable, aren’t we?She laughs. I narrow my eyes at her and continue passed, trying not to think about it. In fact, all thoughts are erased from my mind when I turn the corner to find Kyan and Lucas wearing nothing but boxers and aprons, mixing bowls in their arms.

“What…the hell is happening in here?” I wander in. Lucas is looking over at Kyan’s bowl, their hands spinning at unconceivable rates as they whip up egg whites. A timer rings and Kyan whoops, showing off his bowl as if he’s won a prize.

“Stiff peaks, baby!” he laughs. Lucas keeps mixing his until they look the same.

“Alright, alright, I’ll admit you won that one. Only because your wrist is stronger from jacking yourself off all the time.”

“Lucas, my love. I’ve told you, you can jack me off whenever you like.” Kyan smirks. My cheeks flush as I’m met with that mental image. The pair look over the kitchen island as if noticing me for the first time. “Oh, morning! How did you sleep?” Kyan’s dark eyes are full of mischief. Just how many fingers were in me last night?

“Blissfully,” I settle onto a bar stool. “Although my dreams were pretty bland. I can’t even remember them, to be honest.” Lucas plants his bowl down heavily and leans over the counter.

“We’ll have to try twice as hard tonight then.” I look away from his green gaze to hide my smirk.

“What exactly are we doing in here at…” I search for a clock. Fuck. “Ten thirty in the morning?! I’m late for class.” A pair ofheavy hands settle on my shoulders, forcing me to stay on my stool.

“Mrs. Patrick is sick. Your morning lecture was canceled,” Ezra’s voice is thick with sleep. He sits on the stool next to me, pressing his thigh against mine.

“How do you know that?”

“It was emailed to you last night,” he grunts and looks over the kitchen. That’s still not a complete answer. “Is all of this really necessary?” Ezra’s brow raises. He’s leaning his elbow on the counter, his bare chest rising and falling deeply. A smattering of dark curls curve over his pecs, dipping into his sternum. His abs twist as I follow that hairline down to his stomach and into his waistband, where his morning glory tents his shorts. I lick my lips on instinct, pulling my attention to the room when it grows silent. All three sets of predatory, hungry eyes are on me.

“Yes,” Lucas forces out from his locked jaw. “It’s necessary.” In a flash, he pushes himself off the counter and returns to shifting flour. His easy smirk is back momentarily. “We’re heading out today, Beautiful. I felt the need to put some distance between us and–” he waves his floury hand around, demonstrating the entire house and uni. I chew on my bottom lip, frowning at the mess of ingredients lining the kitchen.

“So, we’re going for a picnic,” Kyan supplies the rest while Ezra grumbles.

“I hate picnics. We’re not a bunch of prissy little girls playing tea parties with our dolls.”

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