Page 29 of Beautiful Delusions

Ezra strokes my legs, never going above the knee. Beneath me, Kyan’s hips roll, his hands exploring my body. Starting at my shoulders, his palms carve a path south, over my biceps and to the crook of my elbows. My mouth stops moving against Lucas’, my world coming to a sudden halt.

“Trust me,” Kyan mutters into my ear. I don’t relax, but I don’t stop him either. His hands raise to hover just above my skin as they descend over my forearms. Lucas cups my cheek, drawing my tongue out of my mouth with a flick of his. I try to indulge him, but I’m distracted by Kyan’s hand stalling directly over my scar, steadily pressing down. Another hand joins his, and then the third. I don’t know why I expected it to happen any other way.

“You’re so beautiful, Sophia,” Kyan tells me. “Every part of you.” I twist my mouth away from Lucas, peering down at the hands rounding my arm. They aren’t squeezing, but there’s enough pressure there to make my lip wobble.

“I hate that scar. I hate what it reminds me of.” A lump forms in my throat. Ezra kneels up higher, his jaw brushing mine the way a lion would greet his lioness.

“Not all wounds leave scars and the ones that do mean we’ve been forged into something better. Stronger.” Leaning back an inch, Ezra’s blue eyes bore into mine with more vulnerability than I’ve ever seen. “You’re so strong, Sophia.”

When they shift their hands, I don’t even gasp. My eyes are captivated by Ezra’s as Kyan plays with my blue hair. Strong isn’t a word I associate with myself, especially since I’ve met the Thorns. All I’ve shown is weakness. Desperation for my meds, relying on them to keep me calm. But no more. I want to be the version of myself these boy believe me to be. When they brush their fingers over my scar this time, I don’t shy away. Each motion is full of reverence; slow, meaningful strokes that speak louder than any words could.

“Time’s up!” A banging sounds on the door. Fuck, the game. The crowds. No one inside the locker room moves. There's a silent exchange between us four, an exchange of acceptance and trust. I shudder beneath the weight of their palms, knowing I needed this to move forward. The Thorn Brothers aren’t just a distraction for the time being. They’re setting me up with the tools to tackle life after we’ve all moved on to new ventures.

“I’m truly sorry about the throne,” Lucas breathes.

“You don’t have to go back out there,” Ezra adds.

“We can get you an escort home. Keep our relationship a secret, the way you prefer?” Kyan leans his head against mine. At the back of the room, Jazzie appears against the lockers, smirking.

They chose you to be their last becausethere’s no replacing you.I smile in her direction, pushing up to my feet. Retrieving the collar and heels, I re-dress myself how they wanted me.

“Are you guys kidding me? This Queen has an appearance to make, and her boyfriends have a game to win.” I offer the leash to Ezra. Slowly standing, the three of them develop matching smiles of pride.

“We’ve never been called boyfriends before,” Kyan chuckles.

“I like it,” Lucas winds his arm around my waist. I giggle, deciding I like it too. It’s a narrative I can get behind; no contracts or rules necessary. Ezra tugs the leash lightly, starting our walk towards the door.

The three of them are banded around me when we stride back onto the court. This time, no boos greet us. Not that I hear, anyway. I tune out everything except for the gentle strokes against my arms and thighs. Let people stare, let them be disgusted. As degrading as this seems, as twisted and fucked up, I can do this for the Thorns. For Lucas. For the sacrifice he’s making, being betrothed upon graduation, I can give him this. Hell, for the next several weeks, I’ll be the Pet they didn’t realize they’ve been missing this entire time. I am their Queen, after all.

“Allow me,” Kyan offers his hand. I smile, stepping down from the throne, which has been mounted in the back of a pick-up truck. After the Waversea Warriors took the win, I was paraded back to Thorn Manor with my champions around my feet. Even I have to admit, it was exhilarating waving to the cheering crowds who followed, whilst multiple hands stroked my calves. Amongst all of these people, I’m still their focus.

Attempting to hop down from the truck, Ezra swoops in to toss me over his shoulder, ass in the air. The cheers growlouder, accompanying us all the way to the front door until they’re shut out. Planting me down on the heels, Ezra crowds me against the nearest wall, his body radiating heat through the dark. He prefers it this way, I decide. Concealed within shadows, anonymous outlines that rely on touch and base instinct. I feel his breath on my neck as he leans down, his lips dangerously close to mine. The cheers of the crowd have faded away, and all I can hear is my own ragged breath and the beat of my heart.

Reaching up to my face, his fingers trail my jawline, stopping at my chin. I’m trapped, caught in his all-consuming presence, unable to break away. Ezra, the man I've yet to truly connect with. The one I offered myself in the library to and got rejected. There's no denying the electricity between us now, the tension building until it’s almost unbearable.

"Just fucking kiss her already, or I will," Lucas comments from somewhere within the adjoining room. On a muffled groan, Ezra's lips crash down on mine, and I’m lost. Lost to the feeling of his mouth, lost in the sensation from the rough claim of his tongue. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, inviting him in deeper. Ezra's hands roam down my body, pulling my hips into his. I gasp as he grinds his solid length against me, those silk sports shorts doing nothing to conceal his arousal. It works to stir my own higher, and suddenly–I want him.

I want Ezra to take me right here, rewrite everything I thought I knew about myself, and piece me back together. My fingers tangle in his blond hair, pulling him into me encouragingly. His heart pounds against my own, his hands sliding up my stomach to my breasts. I arch into his touch, my body begging for more.

"Warm her up for us, Ez," Kyan slaps him hard on the back, breaking our trance. "We need to shower."

"What he means is," I turn Ezra's face back to me, refusing to let our moment be ruined. Not when we've waited this long for it. "Make me come at least twice before they get back."

That's my girl, Jazzie mutters in the background. I feel her drifting away from me, withdrawing into a tiny box in my brain where she and the others belong.

I’m quickly distracted from that thought, as Ezra picks me up and walks me through the house. Between strides, his lips seek out mine over and over. Unable to resist the insatiable taste of danger. Each touch tells me he wants everything I’ve got to give and more. No words are said. None are needed. We’re both one with the moment, our bodies begging for more.

My back is lowered onto a mattress. As he continues his exploration of my lingerie, I release a quiet moan, the sound swallowed by his mouth. Coming to rest his warm palms on my hips, he lowers himself over me, the hard line of his erection against my stomach.

Pushing the shorts past his erection, I grab his length and stroke him in my palm. Ezra lets out a muffled sound, his tongue flicking against my neck. Coiling his fingers against the thin lace between my thighs, he tugs it aside to find me soaking from anticipation. The pad of his thumb is instantly in place, barely moving as he circles my clit. I shudder beneath his touch, reeling for more. He stops, a rare smile gracing his face as he denies me.

"Please, Ezra," I whimper, wanting to feel him in other places. I squirm in the hopes for added friction. "Give me more."

"Not a chance," he slowly shakes his head. "You're so fucking hot like this." Eyes hooded, chest panting, I shake my head.

"Fine, have it your way." Rolling out from under him, Ezra doesn’t try to stop me. I stand and walk over to the chair, similar to the one I have in the corner of my room, preparing to give Ezra a strip show, starting with my corset. His arms move to settle beneath his head as my fingers delicately pop theclasps at the back. One by one, until the threaded diamonds are dismantled, and the middle scrap of lace falls away. I hook my fingers into the sides of my thong, rolling my hips in time with the music in my head. Slowly pushing them down my thighs, I can’t help but stare at the man reclined on the bed.

He's a mixture of the asshole I thought I knew and the Dom I’ve come to understand–someone who can control my body with a flick of his wrist, a lick of his tongue. His icy blue eyes are hungry, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

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