Oblivion (Alphaholes #4)

21. Sammy

21

SAMMY

W ith my head on his chest, I feel as his body succumbs to sleep. His breathing evens out, and his muscles relax, although his hold of me doesn’t loosen.

When I boarded the plane tonight, I guess a part of me knew that sooner or later, I’d end up in this exact position. Thoroughly fucked and in bed with Evan Morris, but I don’t think I expected it to feel like this.

He’s still inside of me, although his scarily thick dick has softened enough that I feel full without being stretched. It’s a little weird, to be full of dick without the friction that makes me want to rush toward the finish line and an orgasm. But if this is cock warming like he mentioned, then I do not hate it.

I’ll never admit this out loud, but having him inside of me while he’s asleep is oddly peaceful. In five minutes, when the bucket of cum he just fucked into me has cooled to a sticky disgusting mess, I probably won’t feel this way, but for now, I think I kind of like it.

Evan wasn’t wrong when he said that Drew hadn’t been fucking me the way a man should fuck a woman. Because Drew and I haven’t had sex at all since before I left for my freshman year at Kingsacre.

It’s been a very long time, but from what I remember, sex with Drew was…quick. Sex with Evan was…mind-blowing. My body is both sore and completely sated all at the same time, and even though I know in the morning, I’ll feel the way he’s used my body tonight, even that idea feels…exciting.

Giving in to Evan is dangerous. He’s the type of man who, if given an inch, will lock you in a cage and throw away the key. But it’s so hard to try and resist what I’ve craved since I met him.

In the back of my mind, I know I should be angry and sad and heartbroken, but all I can feel is…alive.

Drew and Harvard were supposed to be my future, but the moment I opened the front door and stepped into this house, I’ve felt like I’ve come home. Being here has felt more real and more like where I belong than even the house I grew up in, and I don’t know what that means.

Coming back to Kingsacre wasn’t my choice. It was Evan’s. He made this decision for me by destroying my relationship and rejecting my place at a new school. But now that I’m here, I can’t deny the sense of relief I feel at having this decision forced on me.

If I didn’t pick this, then it’s not my fault that I’m here, and it’s not my choice to be a part of this world that I desperately want to belong to, even though I shouldn’t.

I try to stay awake, but as my eyes finally close, I can’t help wondering what tomorrow will look like.

I wake up to the sound of Evan’s panting breaths behind me and the feeling of his hands on my hips, keeping me still as he fucks me, his hard dick pushing into me, his heat warming my core.

“Fuck, I love you, Wild One,” he pants into my ear, banding his arm around me and pulling my back into his chest from behind.

The moment I’m fully awake, I realize what the fuck just happened. “Did you fuck me while I was asleep?” I hiss.

“I couldn’t wait. You’re so fucking beautiful like that,” he says, his tone entirely unrepentant.

“I was asleep,” I snap, trying to wiggle out of his hold so I can turn and glare at him, but he just tightens his arm, keeping me in place.

“Next time I’ll fill your mouth with me, then I’ll wake you up to swallow me down.” He chuckles.

“That’s fucked up,” I pant, my body coming to life as his dick grinds against an unsatisfied spot inside of me.

“How is it fucked up to want you so desperately I can’t wait to have you?” he asks, his tone earnest.

“Because I can’t consent unless I’m awake,” I jab.

“I don’t need consent. Your body said yes a hundred times. You moaned and whined and ground your wet little cunt over my dick all fucking night. You purred when I finally pushed into you.”

“Liar.”

“Why would I lie? I’d planned to push my dick back into you either way, but I didn’t plan to fuck you until you started grinding on me.”

“You’re such an asshole,” I snap, shoving at his arm again.

“You’ll feel better once I’ve made you come.” He chuckles, forcing his hand between my thighs and rubbing at my clit until I implode in a quick fast orgasm that makes my legs tingle and my eyes feel like they’re rolling back in my head.

“Is that how it’s going to be now? You thinking you can just use me like a Fleshlight?” I hiss, once my breathing has settled.

“You just came so hard you almost broke my dick. Are you seriously complaining right now?”

“Yes, I’m complaining. I’m not your sex doll.”

“You can be if you want,” he purrs seductively. “I could strap you to the bed, then only release your limbs long enough to move you how I want you. Think of all the fun ways I could fuck you while there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

I shudder at the image he’s just created, but it’s not from arousal. It’s from repulsion.

“Not your thing, okay,” Evan says easily. “I should have known that you’d hate being tied down. You don’t want to be physically forced. That’s not your kink. You want me to own you so fully that you simply do not have a choice.”

“No, that’s…no,” I protest, but it sounds weak even to my own ears.

“Let’s get up. The others will be excited to see you, plus you need to go get your schedule sorted.”

“You didn’t pick my classes for me already?” I ask sarcastically.

“Why would I pick your classes?” he asks, relaxing his hold enough that I can turn my upper body to see him, even though his dick is still inside of me.

“You orchestrated me being back here, I figured you’d already have my class schedule sorted.”

“I brought you back here because it’s where you belong. With me, with the others. I want you to be happy, and I don’t care what classes you take or what degree you get. I don’t give a fuck if you want to give up school entirely and decide to take up tarot card reading. You can do and be whoever the fuck you want to be, as long you’re mine.”

His sweet, brutally honest answer throws me. I guess I’d expected him to be a dick and insist I do the degree of his choice. But then I realize that none of the guys have ever exerted their control like that. Starling, January, and Bunny may have given up control over almost their entire lives, but never their education. As long as they were here at Kingsacre, their choices were their own.

It was Drew who had tried to make those kinds of decisions for me. Before Clay hacked Harvard and rejected my place, Drew had told the school I’d be majoring in English literature because it was a generic, non-offense degree that his potential voters had zero opinion on.

How is it possible that Drew’s behavior was unreasonably controlling and not Evan’s?

“I booked you an appointment with a course counselor at ten thirty a.m. They’ll go through the courses you missed this semester and help you plan how you can catch up or if you’ll need to graduate late.”

Clearing my throat, I push away the comparison of Drew and Evan. “Thank you,” I croak.

“You’re welcome. Now let’s take a shower, then you can pick something to wear that makes you look nineteen, not forty. But hurry up, because Hunter is making your favorite for breakfast.”

“I’d rather shower alone,” I say sullenly.

His laugh is full of amusement. He doesn’t even have to speak for me to know there’s no way I’ll be taking a shower without him.

The bathroom attached to my room is nice but small, and once both of us are enclosed in the shower cubicle, there’s hardly any room for us to move.

“Hmm, this is kind of tight,” he says on a laugh, flashing me a wide grin that I’ve never seen on him before.

I’ve seen him smile, but it’s always been tempered, like he was holding something back. Now, the grin on his face spreads from ear to ear, lighting him up and forcing me to have to fight the urge to grin back.

“I have an idea,” he announces, lifting me off my feet and filling me with his cock, pinning me to his body with his arm beneath my butt.

“Evan,” I shriek, grabbing his shoulders and holding on tight.

“Now we have more room,” he says with a wink.

Instead of washing me, he hands me bottles of product and watches as I wash my hair, then my body, working my hands between us to clean as much of my skin as I can while impaled on him.

“Now me,” he says, dipping his chin and motioning for me to lather his skin in the soap I’m still holding in my hands.

“Why don’t you let me down, and I’ll get all of your cum off me, then get out of your way,” I suggest, with a sassy arch of my eyebrow.

“No.”

“No?” I question.

“No, so get on with it, or we’ll miss breakfast.”

Huffing dramatically, I coat his muscled chest, running my hands over the ornate key he has tattooed over his ribs and the ugly yet beautiful anatomical heart he has inked over his own. Once I’m done, he passes me the shampoo and exhales contentedly when I massage the suds into his hair.

After he’s rinsed his hair, he lifts me off his dick, his jaw ticking at my wince, and carefully lowers me to my feet. Before I can stop him, he sinks to his knees and gently, oh, so gently washes my pussy, cleaning me like I’m a fragile masterpiece he can’t bear to break.

It takes far longer than it should for him to deem me clean , but once he’s finished, he turns off the water, wraps me in a towel, then steps out of the bathroom first, dropping down onto my bed, his heated eyes following my every move.

“Are you going to get dressed?” I ask.

“We’ll both go down to my room once you’re ready.”

“I’ll get ready faster if you’re not staring at me.”

“You like it when my eyes are on you,” he quips, a knowing smirk tipping his lips.

“If you sit here and supervise me getting ready, I’ll put on the tiniest clothes I own.”

He shrugs. “Go for it. I’ll enjoy ripping them from you and coating you in my cum.” His words are crude, but his tone is calm and relaxed, like he’s telling me he’d like milk in his coffee, not that he’ll defile me with his cum if my outfit doesn’t meet his approval.

“So, you’re dictating what I wear now?” I snap.

“No. You can wear what you please, but if you look too sexy, I’ll just spend the day following you around making a list of all the people whose lives I’m going to ruin.”

“You don’t have anything better to do with your day than that?” I snarl.

“I’m rich as fuck and two years ahead of you at school, I have all the time in the world,” he mocks, arching an eyebrow at me in challenge.

Spinning on my heel, I march to the closet and pull out athletic leggings, a sports bra, and a cute cropped sweater. My pussy twinges a little as I lift my legs to step into my panties, but I ignore the feeling pulling them up. Despite the shower, as I cover myself with the lace, I still feel…full of him, and I know that soon my underwear will be soaked and coated in…him.

If I try to go back in the shower, I know he’ll follow, and as he insisted on cleaning me, he must know that he hasn’t done a great job of getting his cum out of me.

At this moment, I have two choices. I can march into the bathroom and try to wipe the cum that is slowly seeping out of me away, or I can ignore it and not acknowledge the fact that he deliberately left me this way, knowing what would happen.

I’m not sure why, but I have a feeling he’s waiting for me to try to clean up so he can use it as an excuse to fuck me again. So as uncomfortable as I’ll be wearing wet panties, I pretend like nothing’s wrong and drag the sports bra I picked over my head. Quickly pulling on my leggings and sweater, I drag a brush through my hair, then twist it into a messy wet bun on top of my head.

“ There you are ,” he says reverently.

“What?” I croak.

“You look like you again.” He scoffs lightly. “It’s nice.”

“Are you saying you prefer me in leisure wear with no makeup and my hair a mess than in the conservative stuff my mama’s not offended by?” I ask sarcastically.

“I love the real you, not the person you pretend to be to please your parents and your ex,” he says, the honesty so apparent in his words, there’s no way he could be lying.

With the wind officially taken out of my sails, I sag. “Stop being nice. It makes it harder to hate you,” I whine.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll give you plenty of reasons to hate me,” he says softly.

It takes me another ten minutes for me to brush my teeth and put on a little mascara and some lip gloss. Once I’m done, Evan takes my hand and tugs me down the stairs and into his bedroom.

The moment we step inside, I blink, wondering if I’m seeing things because his room is nothing like I expected it to be.

Even though this house is nothing like a college dorm, I guess I was kind of expecting his room to be…well, I guess an average college dorm. I don’t know why. My room is beautiful, as are the rooms that Starling, January, and Bunny all share with their husbands, so I don’t know why I expected Evans’s room to be different, but I did.

Once I’m fully inside, he closes the door behind me. The walls are a soft white. The wooden furniture is a dark wood, so dark it almost looks black. The soft furnishings are a mixture of warm creams and rich sage greens that all complement each other. Just like the other suites, there’s a sitting room area with a large TV and sofa, then a bedroom filled with an enormous, modern yet simple four-poster bed. The frame is bare, with no adornments or fussy drapes, and the whole space is classy, elegant, and beautiful.

“Sit,” Evan says, leading me to the bed, then lifting me onto it. Caging me in place with his hands on either side of me, he presses his lips to mine, kissing me hard and fast. When he pulls back, he drops the towel he has wrapped around his waist, giving me an uninhibited view of his rock-hard cock, before he heads for the closet and disappears inside.

The weather in California is much warmer than in DC, and I’m grateful for the warm early spring weather when he emerges wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt that clings to his thick muscled biceps in the very best way.

I have a thing for arms. There’s something very sexy about muscular biceps and triceps. Armporn is a very real thing, and in that shirt, Evan could be a centerfold.

Taking a seat beside me on his bed, he leans forward to pull on his socks, then straightens, turning to look at me with an amused smirk on his full lips. “I’ve got to say, Wild One, I was expecting more of a fight than this.”

“I’m still tired. Give me time,” I retort, wishing I actually felt a tenth of the anger that I should right now.

Chuckling, he nods. “I’ll look forward to it. Let’s go and have breakfast.” Jumping up from the bed, he reaches for me, grabbing me around the waist before he effortlessly throws me over his shoulder.

“Evan, put me down,” I shriek, pounding at his back with my fist.

“No can do, Wild One. I’m a caveman showing off his prize. Now hold on tight.”

My protests become squeals as he jogs out of his room and down the stairs, bouncing me on his shoulder while I hold him in a death grip, trying not to fall.

“Look what I found,” he announces loudly as he strides across the foyer and into the kitchen.

“Sammy,” Starling shouts, jumping out of Sebastian’s lap and bounding around the table to me. “Put her down,” she demands.

Tipping me upright, Evan twists me around and pins me to him with his arm beneath my breasts the moment my feet touch the floor.

“You can go now. I need my bestie,” Starling chirps, waving her hand to shoo Evan away, but instead of releasing me, his hold on me tightens.

“She’s mine,” he growls, and the animosity in his tone makes goose bumps pebble across my skin.

“Evan,” I say in warning.

I’m half expecting Starling to go brimstone and fire and yell at Evan, but instead, she shocks the hell out of me when she tips her chin up and looks him right in the eye. In all the time I’ve known Starling, she’s been polite at best to Evan. He’s always wanted a real sibling relationship with her, and she’s rebuffed him at every turn. She speaks to him and spends a lot of time with him as part of the group, but for the first time, I realize that she rarely, if ever, actually looks at him.

But she’s doing it now.

From my position, with my back pinned against Evan’s chest, I can’t see his expression, but I watch my friend as she boldly maintains eye contact with him.

“I know she’s yours, big brother, I just want to say hello to my bestie, then I promise I’ll give her back.”

Big brother? What the hell is going on? Since when does Starling not only acknowledge a relationship with her stepbrother but also call him her big brother ?

Before I can ask, Evan grabs my chin and twists me around so he can kiss me. It’s not a soft peck or a gentle kiss. He forces his tongue between my lips and mouth fucks me in the most blatantly possessive way I’ve ever seen, felt, or experienced.

Once he’s done ensuring that everyone knows I’m not only his, but that he and I are fucking, he pulls back and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. Slowly and clearly reluctantly, he relaxes his hold on me and steps back, leaving me shaken and reeling.

Starling throws herself at me the moment I’m free of Evan. “I’m so glad you’re back. I missed you so much,” she gushes, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing me tightly.

After a moment, I hug her back, both of us lingering a little longer than necessary. I might have been planning a new future for myself on the other side of the country, but I’ve missed my best friend, and even though my entire life has been turned on its axis in the last few weeks, I’m glad to be here with her again.

“I missed you too,” I say, taking a long moment to enjoy her comfort and familiarity before I release her and step back. Parting my lips to speak, a puff of air is the only sound that escapes as I’m pulled into January’s arms next, then Clay, Hunter, and even Bunny’s, who whispers her thanks for my help while she was on the run from Hunter into my ear.

The entire time I’m greeting my friends, I feel the weight of Evan’s eyes on me. I’ve always known when he was watching me, but until now, his gaze has felt reluctant, like he hated that he couldn’t look away, but it’s different now. He’s not just watching me, he’s stalking me with his eyes, dissecting me with his gaze, and devouring everything he sees. The feeling is both terrifying and intoxicating. Is this how Starling feels when Sebastian looks at her? I’ll have to ask her. If it is, it makes understanding why she loves him in spite of all the horrific things he’s done a little easier.

As my thoughts turn to Sebastian, I scan the room for him, finding him hovering at the back of my welcome party, his hands in his pockets, his dark eyes moving between Starling and me.

Sebastian and I have had a tempestuous relationship in the eighteen months we’ve known each other. In the beginning, he hated my friendship with Starling because he recognized early on that I wouldn’t allow him to control or exploit my friendship with her for his own gains. But over time, he developed a grudging respect for me that morphed into a dysfunctional sibling bond that I’m surprised to realize I’ve missed while I’ve been in DC.

Pulling one of his hands from his pocket, he crooks his finger, beckoning me to him. Sighing, I scoff and smile, closing the distance between us until I’m standing in front of him.

“Welcome home,” he says, a wry smile tipping the corners of his lips.

“Thank you for the ride,” I say.

Tears prick at the backs of my eyes as he pulls me into a hug, palming the back of my head as he kisses my forehead. “If he hadn’t brought you home, I would have,” he tells me quietly.

When he gentles his hold on me, he turns me, and I watch as Starling pushes onto her tiptoes, curls her arms around Evan’s neck, and hugs him. He freezes the moment she touches him, then after a long moment, he slowly wraps his arms around her and hugs her back. It’s as beautiful as it is bizarre. What the hell happened while I wasn’t here? Only weeks ago, she was fire and brimstone, calling him and all the others out on their behavior over the years. How did she get from that to calling him big brother and voluntarily hugging him?

“How did that happen?” I ask Sebastian quietly.

“They found some common ground,” he says.

Brow furrowed, I turn and look at him. “What common ground?”

“They both missed you.”

His response silences me. Could I really be the catalyst that helped them take the first step toward a real friendship? If I am, then I’m glad, but I can’t help feeling like there’s more to their sudden truce that Sebastian isn’t telling me.

“I’m glad you’re home. We all missed you,” he says.

“I missed you guys too. Although I should probably tell you that I’m only here because Evan imploded my life.” Rolling my eyes, I scoff lightly. “I’m guessing you already know, but I’m no longer engaged,” I tell him, churlishly lifting my hand into the air and wiggling my empty ring finger.

“He did what he should have done over a year ago. He took what’s always been his,” Sebastian growls.

“What if I don’t want to be his?” I ask, trying to find some of the anger I know I should be feeling right now.

Reaching for my hand, Sebastian rubs his thumb over the tattooed initials on my finger. “I think it’s too late for that.”

As I part my lips to protest, he looks past me to the other side of the room. “When are you making it official?” he asks, lifting my hand into the air.

“Making what official?” I ask, confused.

My skin prickles, and I feel every step Evan takes as he crosses the room until he’s by my side.

“She’s had a tough week, and I promised I’d let her speak to her parents before I proposed.”

“Propose,” I cough, choking on my own saliva.

“Don’t worry, Wild One. I know you’re too tired to fight with me today. I’m happy to wait until tomorrow to hear all the excuses you’ll come up with to avoid marrying me,” Evan says with a bright smile, curling his arm around my back and pulling me into him as he hands me a cup of coffee.

Sebastian’s amused chuckle vibrates through the room. “Welcome to the family…officially.”

I know I should argue. I should protest and fight, but I can’t seem to find any words. Maybe I really am too tired, or maybe I just want a day to see how it feels to belong to the psycho beside me. I’ve wanted to be his for so long that I don’t seem to be able to resist the need to try it out, at least for a few hours.

Yesterday, I was engaged to another man, and this morning, I’ve had sex with Evan three times and only managed to halfheartedly tell him I hate him. Clearly, I’m not in my right mind, so today I’ll be his, just for a little while. Today, I’ll sink into the sensation of belonging to someone who wants me enough to boldly claim me. Then tomorrow, I’ll figure out how to free myself from him.

Hunter slides thick slices of French toast onto waiting plates, and we all take our seats around the table and start to eat. I haven’t been in this house since before summer break, but the familiarity of the moment makes it feel like it’s been days, not months.

Now that I’m here, I can’t believe I was honestly considering allowing these people to become a part of my past. They’re my friends, the first real, honest friends I’ve ever made that were just mine. How could I ever have considered living the rest of my life without their special brand of crazy?

Evans palm lands on my thigh as I sit back and take in the people around the table. No matter what happens between him and me, I think I really am meant to be here, even if I don’t quite fit.

“Please don’t think that I’m not pleased to see you, because I am. But how does your fiancé feel about you being here instead of at Harvard?” Bunny asks from her seat in Hunter’s lap, her confusion real, like she has no idea what Evan has done to bring me back here.

“Drew and I broke up,” I say, exhaling resignedly.

“I’m so sorry. What happened?” she asks.

Scoffing, I lift my hand and point at Evan. “He happened.”

“Oh, is this something to do with—” Before she can finish whatever she was about to say, Hunter diverts her attention by doing something beneath the table that makes her eyes widen and her lips purse.

“God, I forgot what it was like being around you.” I laugh sardonically. “Hunter, Bunny and I were talking. Can you leave her alone for a minute?”

“As if you have any room to talk.” Hunter chuckles, keeping Bunny’s attention on him, even as he looks at me. “Half the campus heard your screaming orgasms in the middle of the night.”

My cheeks heat so suddenly it feels like I’m going to set on fire. “I did not…” My denial trails off, because honestly, there’s no point trying to pretend Evan didn’t fuck me until my throat hurt from screaming. “Urgh, you’re such an asshole. It’s an unspoken rule in this house that no one comments on how loud the others are,” I hiss, flashing Hunter a glare.

Chuckling, he dips his head and starts to press kisses against Bunny’s throat. “You’re right. I apologize, but I’d recommend we look into some soundproofing.”

“Hunter,” Bunny admonishes, but it sounds more like a moan than a scold.

The vibe around the table is…strained. Clay and January are as usual, sickeningly in love. They only have eyes for each other, lost to their loved-up bliss. Sebastian keeps looking at Starling like he’s worried if he blinks, she’ll disappear. Starling is crazy-girl happy, her grin so wide it’s infectious, and for once, Evan’s aura is happy, and the black cloud he’s usually sitting beneath has moved over Hunter’s head.

Despite him blatantly toying with Bunny beneath the table, Hunter has been throwing death glares at Starling since we all sat down. A part of me understands his residual animosity toward the person who helped Bunny escape him. But she wasn’t on her own. I helped probably more than Starling. It was me who arranged for the burner phones and the new ID and gave her a location of a place to run to.

If Hunter is mad at Starling, he should be mad at me too.

“Has it been like this since Bunny went AWOL?” I ask the room, using my fork to motion between Starling and Hunter.

“It’s fine,” Starling says, her megawatt smile fading.

“Why are you so pissed at Starling?” I ask Hunter, unwilling to tiptoe around the tension in the room.

“She knows why I’m done with her,” he says, wrapping his arm more tightly around Bunny’s waist.

“Well, I wasn’t here, so why don’t you tell me. Catch me up to speed.”

Hunter’s stony glare turns on me, but I don’t flinch because I’m not scared of him. I’ve never been scared of any of these boys.

“She cut the tracker out of Bunny’s neck, then gave her twenty thousand dollars so she could run away from me,” he growls.

“Don’t forget the bag full of burner phones, the address of a safe place for her to run to, and some new IDs so you couldn’t track her,” I tell him.

“Yes, and all of that. I could have lost my wife forever because Starling has fucking issues,” Hunter yells.

“No,” I snap. “ You almost lost your wife forever because you had Clay do his computer genius stuff to get the bank to foreclose on her home. You almost lost your wife because you blackmailed her into marrying you. You almost lost your wife because you treated her badly and ignored her very justifiable anger after she learned the truth of everything you’d done. You pushed your wife until she broke, and then she ran to try to find a way to put herself back together.”

“No. Starling—” he starts, but I interrupt.

“Starling held the knife that cut the tracker from Bunny’s neck. But do you know who went to a doctor and learned how to remove the tracker without causing any damage? Me. I did. Starling gave Bunny a go bag she had packed in case she ever needed to escape from Sebastian. But it was me who suggested she pack one so she could try to stop feeling like a victim and a prisoner. Starling called an Uber for her that day, but I told her where to go. I arranged for her to get an ID. I bought the burner phones, and I was on the video call while we all planned out her escape. So, if you need to hate Starling, then you need to hate me and January and Bunny too, because we were all a part of it. But more than anything, Hunter Rossberg, you need to blame yourself because your wife ran away from you because you are a fucking asshole.” I’m on my feet by the time I finish my rant, my chest heaving as I stare down at the stupefied idiot across the table.

“I don’t hate you,” Hunter says to me.

“Why? I was just as much a part of it as Starling was.”

“But—”

I interrupt him again. “But what?”

“Starling pushed her own issues onto Bunny. She would never have run if?—”

This time, it’s Bunny who interrupts. “If the girls hadn’t helped me get away, I might have stayed, but I would have hated you. We wouldn’t be where we are now if I hadn’t left. I’ve tried to talk to you about this, but you don’t want to listen. Leaving is the only reason that I’m here. Having time to miss you and realizing that I wanted to try and find a way through this, that’s why I’m here, not because Clay found me. He offered to help me divorce you. He didn’t force me to go to you. Starling didn’t do anything wrong, Hunter. She was my friend when I desperately needed one.”

Hunter’s lips snap shut as he stares at Bunny like he has no idea what to say.

Turning to my bestie, I smile sadly. “Starling, honey, you’re all kinds of fucked up. Everyone here knows that, but you saw that your friend was unhappy, and you helped her, and that’s okay. Bunny’s situation was so similar to yours when you were in high school that, of course, it was going to reignite the trauma you’ve been trying to suppress for years. With hindsight, scorched earth might not have been the only option, but at the time, I was right there with you, helping you plan her escape.”

Turning, I look at Hunter. “I understand you broke when Bunny left, but honestly, did you expect her to just forgive you for all the bullshit you pulled and become your perfect doting wife without you ever having to feel any repercussions from your behavior? Have you learned nothing from this group and all the relationship drama that has happened between the eight people in this room? Hunter, you fucked up, and maybe Starling and I went a little too far, but seriously, get over it, or include me in your hate. I thought I was walking away from this life, but apparently, I’m not, so now you have a choice to make. You can either forgive Starling and me and be grateful that your wife loves you enough to overlook how much of a psycho asshole you are. Or you can continue to hate me and Starling and rip this group apart. Pick.”

The entire room is silent, all eyes on me. I didn’t intend to spout an epic speech or fix the issues that are clearly ruining my friends’ relationships on day one back in California. But apparently, it’s easier to call people on their shit than deal with the drama in your own life.

“Fine,” Hunter says a little sullenly.

“Fine, what?” I ask.

Sighing audibly, Hunter turns and looks at Starling. “I’m pissed at you.”

Shrugging, Starling nods. “I know. I’m pissed at you too.”

“I’ll get over it. It might not be today. But I’ll get over it,” Hunter admits.

“Okay,” Starling says.

“Okay,” Hunter agrees.

Clapping my hands together loudly, I nod, then retake my seat. “Perfect.”

“And that’s why we need you. It’s why you’ve been one of us since the first day you walked through the front door,” Sebastian says, his eyes full of warmth, a soft smile curling the corners of his lips.

The rest of breakfast is quiet, but the stiff atmosphere from earlier has gone, and the familiar feeling of home starts to fill me. After breakfast is finished, I push back from my chair, ready to head over to the administration offices to see what, if any, classes still have room for me to join.

Nerves start to fill my stomach. I’ve missed months of school, and I have no idea if it’s even possible for me to catch up and graduate on time.

Evan stands with me, taking my hand in his and twisting our fingers together. “Let’s go and get our stuff,” he says, tightening his hold on me to just shy of painful, like he’s bracing himself for me to try to pull away from him.

“I don’t really have any school stuff here. I left my backpack and laptop at Eloise’s place. Drew said he was arranging for movers to take it all to the hotel, but I came here instead, so I have no idea what’s happened to it all now.”

“All of your things are on their way here. But don’t worry, I have everything you need upstairs until your stuff arrives.” Stepping around me, he tugs my hand, pulling me from the kitchen and back up the stairs. When we reach his bedroom, he leads me inside, then sits me on the couch while he grabs a pile of boxes I hadn’t noticed stacked on his desk.

“Here,” he says, handing me a large white box.

Furrowing my brow, I take the box and carefully lift the lid. Inside is the most beautiful cream leather Louis Vuitton backpack with gold chains sewn into the straps. It’s beautiful.

“Where did you get this?” I ask, lifting the bag out and running my fingers over the butter-soft leather.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it. But where did you get it? I didn’t know they did this design in this size.”

“They don’t. I called in a favor and had them make this for you. I know you wanted it but didn’t buy it because your laptop and school stuff wouldn’t fit.”

“You had them make me a bag just so I could fit my laptop in it?” I ask incredulously, my gaze drifting from the bag to his face.

“Yes,” he says.

A shocked giggle bursts from my lips. “How?”

He shrugs.

“This is…” I almost say, “Too much,” but that doesn’t feel adequate. The miniature version of this bag in the store was three thousand dollars, and he had this bigger one made especially for me. I didn’t even know they did that.

“Here,” he says, taking the box and the bag from my lap and replacing them with a smaller box.

This one holds a brand-new, brushed-gold MacBook. “Evan, I?—”

“This is the latest model. It’s faster than your other one, plus it matches your new backpack,” he tells me, his lips curved into a small smile.

“I…”

Before I have a chance to figure out what to say, he takes the laptop and places it beside the bag on the couch, then hands me another box. This one is full of school supplies.

“Evan, you didn’t need to…My stuff will be here soon,” I protest weakly.

“I had Clay set up the laptop and sync it with your old one, so you’ll still have access to your iCloud and music.”

“You didn’t need to do?—”

His brows furrow and his lips pull into a scowl. “I know I didn’t have to. That’s not the point. You’re mine, and I take care of the things that belong to me.”

“Evan…” I start to protest, but he pushes the supplies from my lap and yanks me to my feet, silencing me when my chest slams into his.

“Shh. You’re too tired to argue with me today, remember?” he says as he dips his head and kisses me like he’s trying to erase all of the thoughts from my head just with his lips. “That’s better,” he says as he pulls back. “I never thought I’d enjoy you being pliant, but it does have its moments.”

Scoffing, I nod. “You’re an asshole. But thank you for the bag. I love it and for the laptop and school stuff too.”

“You’re welcome. Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Because I have one last gift. Then we need to get over to the administration offices.”

“I will scream if you try to tattoo me again.”

Chuckling, he loosens his hold on me and takes a step back. “Don’t worry, Wild One, I’ll sedate you before I put more ink on you.”

There’s not an ounce of mirth in his tone, despite him smiling widely, and in this moment, he truly looks like the psychopath I’ve accused him of being.

“Close your eyes, Sammy.”

I don’t know why I do it. Every ounce of self-preservation inside of me is screaming at me to run, to get away from him. But I don’t move. I can’t move. I’m locked in his gaze, frozen to the spot by the terrifying intensity of his expression.

I see his lips curl into a smile as my eyelids flutter closed. In the darkness, I hear him move and feel the distance he puts between us as he leaves, then comes back. The next thing I hear is a metallic click.

My eyes snap open to find him in front of me, a smug, self-satisfied grin spread boldly over his face. His hands are in my hair, and for a second, I worry that he’s cut it, but instead he’s carefully lifting my hair from my neck. That’s when I feel it. The soft thud of something landing in the hollow of my throat.

Instinctively, I lift my hand, and my fingers hit cold metal. “What?” I question, curling my fingers around the pendant. I can’t tell what it is from touch alone, and the chain it’s attached to is too short for me to be able to see it when I look down.

Stepping away from him, I go into the bedroom and stand in front of the full-length mirror, leaning forward so I can see the necklace Evan just put around my neck. The chain is fine, but a tight link that feels strong and sturdy. Holding it together at the base of my throat is a small padlock. Just like the anklet Evan put on me a week ago, the chain doesn’t seem to have a start or an end, with only the padlock joining it in the middle.

The lock itself is small but thick and surprisingly heavy. Sucking in a sharp breath, I lean in a little closer to the mirror, lifting the padlock off my neck until I can read the engraving on the metal. Just like the tiny padlock charm on my ankle and the tattoo on my finger, the padlock is branded with the letters E and M tangled together.

“Take it off,” I whisper, turning to look into the living space where Evan is waiting.

“No,” he says, shaking his head.

“I want to take it off.”

“It doesn’t come off.”

“It’s a lock. Locks have keys.”

“This one doesn’t. It doesn’t need a key. It’s permanent. The moment I clicked it locked it became permanent.”

“Take it off, Evan,” I say, my voice rising.

“You’re mine, Sammy.”

“You chained me, like a pet,” I hiss, my voice breaking.

“No. I claimed you, like a man claiming his woman. I had a second one made for me too. When you’re ready, I’ll happily wear your lock around my neck for the rest of my life. We’ll claim each other, Sammy.”

“I don’t want to be claimed,” I choke.

“Don’t lie to yourself or to me. You were desperate to be claimed, panting to be owned and belong. And now you do.”

“Where are my pearls?” I question, fear spiking inside of me that he’s taken the string of pearls that have been in my family for generations.

“They’re in your jewelry box.”

A relieved huff of breath bursts from my lungs. “I can go to the admin offices on my own.”

“We’ll go together.”

“Are you planning on attaching a leash to this and leading me around campus, so everyone knows that you think of me like property?” I growl, finally feeling all the anger that has been absent until now.

“That’s an interesting idea, but I’d need you to be naked, and I’ll never let anyone else see you like that. But I’m more than happy to treat you like my unwilling slave in the privacy of our room if you think you want that. Maybe when we get back later, I’ll strip you naked and have you kneel at my feet while I hold your head down on my cock with your leash wrapped around my fist.”

“Fuck you, Evan,” I growl, furious and hurt and horny all at the same time, although I’ll never admit it.

His amused laughter only aggravates and elevates my arousal even higher. “Oh, I’ll definitely fuck you, little Wild One.”

Fighting tears, I do my best to blink them away, turning from the mirror and stomping back into the living room. Not taking anywhere near as much care with my beautiful new bag as I should, I shove the laptop and supplies inside, then head for the door.

Curling his fingers around my wrist, Evan stops me, dragging me into his body. “I know you think you hate me right now. But you don’t. I bet your body is on fire, feeling the weight of that lock at your throat. I bet you’re dripping thinking about everyone seeing the physical proof of my ownership around your neck. You can pretend to fight this, Wild One, but I know how much you love it. How much you crave it.”

“Can we go?” I say, fighting to stop my voice cracking with emotion, because he’s not right. He’s wrong. So incredibly, wrong…Right?

“Do you have something to say to me? I thought you loved your gifts?” he asks, his voice taking on a taunting tone.

“Are you serious?” I shriek.

“Deadly.”

“You want me to thank you for collaring me with a fucking chain and padlock?” I hiss.

His smirk makes me want to punch him or grab his face and kiss him. If I was sure which side of the coin my actions would land on, I might move, but I refuse to encourage him, so I stay still.

“Thank you for my gifts, asshole,” I spit through gritted teeth.

A part of me wants him to be angry, but instead, he looks amused. “You’re welcome, baby. Let go get your classes sorted.”

The house is quiet by the time Evan leads me from his bedroom with our fingers entwined, but surprisingly, when we step outside, there’s an empty golf cart waiting for us.

“The school allocated us a third cart,” Evan says without me having to ask.

“Why?”

“Because we asked for one,” he tells me like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

It’s been nearly six months since I lived here, and apparently, I’ve forgotten how casually privileged my friends are. My life in Washington, DC, wasn’t exactly hard. I grew up in a comfortable home, being indulged by my parents. But after so much time away, I’d forgotten what it’s like to simply get everything you ask for, the way Evan and the others always have.

Starling and I have spoken many times about the fact that Evan, Sebastian, Clay, and Hunter are so incredibly wealthy. They’re essentially spoiled brats who expect to get everything they want and are callous enough to take what isn’t given freely when they can’t just demand it.

Every single one of them has claimed the woman they wanted and then proceeded to deal with the fallout without ever considering that maybe they shouldn’t have tried to own a person in the first place. And Evan is doing the exact same thing, only unlike the others, I know exactly what to expect. I’ve seen firsthand the lengths these men will go to, and yet I’m still here. I’m sitting beside him in a golf cart, letting him sleep in my bed, letting him use my body, letting him slowly claim me inch by inch, without even trying to fight back. I’ve always known he was a psychopath, but what does it make me that I’m not doing anything to free myself of him?

I’m silent on the ride to the administration buildings. Evan parks the cart in a spot at the curb, then takes my hand and tugs me across the seat and out the driver’s side. Kingsacre is full of rich kids, but they still all recognize the power and influence Evan Morris has, and they reverently part to allow us to traverse our way into the building without Evan having to do more than flash a few smiles.

Holding the door open for me, he releases my hand and places his palm on the base of my spine, guiding me out of the warm morning sunlight and into the dull, muted quiet of the building.

I’ve only ever been in here once before, when I came to drop a class. But I’m not surprised when Evan confidently leads me through the rabbit warren of corridors and straight to the academic advisers’ offices.

“Dean Livingstone is meeting us here,” Evan tells me, slipping the hand that was resting at the base of my spine around my hip and pulling me into his side the moment we step into the office.

“Ahh, Mr. Morris, Miss Hartley, please come straight through,” a prim-looking woman with beautiful ebony-colored skin says, striding confidently into an office and holding the door open for us to follow her in.

“I’m Harriett Bentley, and I have been assigned as your academic adviser. Dean Livingstone had planned to be here, but I’m sure we can get your situation resolved without his presence. First, Miss. Hartley, I understand that you took some time off because your father was ill. How is he?”

Harriett’s girl boss energy is a force that has me sitting up straighter in my seat. “He’s much better now, thank you, ma’am. It was touch and go for a while after his surgery, but with some changes to his diet and exercise, the doctors are confident he’ll be fine.”

Her smile is warm and full of empathy. “I’m so glad to hear that. Now, obviously you’ve missed a full semester’s worth of classes. I’ve assessed your transcripts, and at this time I think you have a couple of options. You can take a heavy course load and try to make up the classes you’ve missed, or you can graduate a semester late. Due to the nature of your absence, the college is happy for you to pick either option. Have you declared a major yet?”

“No, ma’am. I was thinking maybe economics?” I tell her.

“Woo,” she hoots dramatically. “Well, that is quite the degree. Normally, I’d suggest delaying graduation and not overloading yourself as the way to go, but looking at your transcripts for your freshman year, it’s clear that you haven’t struggled academically. In fact, you comfortably finished in the top ten percent of your class. If you feel comfortable, then I’d suggest that you take an extra two classes this semester, then two extra classes in your first semester next year. Then you’d make up the final missed class in your second semester. That way, your course load would be back to normal by your senior year.”

“And you think that’d be manageable?” I ask her, glancing at Evan, then immediately looking away, not wanting him to think I was looking for his input or approval.

“Given your grades and the fact that you took some of the harder required courses and passed them last year, I don’t see why not. You can try it this semester, and if you get overwhelmed, we can reassess.”

“Are most classes already full for this semester? Am I going to struggle to fill the required number of credits?” I ask.

“Dean Livingstone has assured me that he’ll ensure places are available in any classes you pick,” Evan says, reaching over to entwine his fingers with mine.

Harriett’s smile stiffens a little, then relaxes as she passes me a course list. “Let’s tick off the required courses you need to take first, then we can fill the gaps with electives.”

It takes nearly two hours to pick classes that will fulfill the requirements for an economics major, as well as fit in all the courses that the school has made a necessity for graduating. I’m going to be inundated with homework and studying, but I’m at least hopeful that I might be able to graduate on time.

Oddly, apart from his comment about the dean, Evan stayed quiet through the entire meeting, never once trying to exert his will over my courses, schedule, or choice of major. It makes me suspicious.

“Do you want to hit the bookstore before we go home?” he asks.

“No, I need to go and speak to the finance office and pay my tuition.”

“You don’t need to do that. It’s all sorted. Your tuition has been paid,” he says airily.

“How? I haven’t even spoken to my dad yet.”

“I spoke to your dad about it yesterday.”

“And he was just okay with me coming back to Kingsacre? Because I can’t imagine a world where my mama would be okay with me being here. What exactly did you say to them?”

“I told them that your engagement was off. That Drew, his father, and their PR team had decided that it wasn’t a good fit anymore. Then I told them you were coming home.”

“That’s it? Then how can my dad have paid my tuition already?”

“He didn’t. I did,” he says simply, tugging me out of the building and into the bright daylight again.

“You did what?” I question.

“I paid your tuition.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to.” He shrugs.

“My dad will pay you back.”

“No, he won’t.”

“I’ll have the school refund you and get my dad to send a check.”

“I paid your tuition in full for the rest of your degree,” he says, his lips pressing into a firm line of annoyance.

My feet stop moving.

The moment Evan feels the resistance in my body, he spins to face me, smirking when he sees me unmoving and frozen to the spot.

“What do you mean you paid my tuition for the rest of my degree?” I ask slowly.

He shrugs again. “I think that’s pretty self-explanatory. I paid your tuition for the next two and a half years.”

“That’s…What…Why would you do that?” I stutter.

“Because you’re mine.”

“And being yours means you’ll pay nearly four hundred thousand dollars for my education?” I hiss.

He shrugs a third time. “Of course.”

“That’s…” I trail off, struggling to find any word to describe how…“Insane. That’s what that is. It’s insane. When did you pay it?”

“Last week,” he says nonchalantly.

“I was engaged to another man last week. I was engaged to another man yesterday.”

“You might have worn that pathetic excuse for a ring for a few days, but you were never his.”

“I was his. He asked me to marry him, and I said yes.” As my voice gets louder and louder with each word, Evan’s eyes get darker, and I don’t realize we’re moving until he opens a door and drags me into a building, towing me along behind him until he opens a second door, yanks me into a room, and slams the door closed behind us.

Opening my mouth, I start to protest, but he spins me around and pushes me down until my hands hit a wooden desk. Holding me in place with a firm grip on my neck, he drags my leggings and panties down.

“Does this feel like you belong to him?” he asks, notching the head of his cock at the entrance of my pussy then filling me in one hard thrust.

My wet, eager body willingly accepts his intrusion, and I brace, ready for him to roughly fuck me. But instead of forcing his will on me, once my body is full of him, he simply pushes down on my neck until I’m forced to turn my cheek and press my face against the cool wooden surface below me.

“You haven’t answered my question,” he asks, his tone calmer.

“What?” I pant, trying to push back against him, but I’m unable to move, pinned between the table and his unwavering body.

“Do you feel like you belong to him?”

“Evan, someone could come in.” I don’t actually care. His dick is inside of me, stretching me, but not fucking me and providing me with the friction I need, and right now all I care about is him moving and making me come.

“Then they’ll see you bent over a desk, warming my dick with your wet little cunt. Now answer the question.”

“Fuck me,” I pant.

“Answer my question. Do you feel like you belong to him?”

“Evan, please, I need?—”

Abruptly cutting me off, he curls his finger through the back of the chain he put around my neck this morning and twists, tightening the padlock against the base of my throat. He’s not hurting me or restricting my breathing, but the way he’s holding me has effortlessly reminded me that he locked this collar onto me and claimed me in a really visible way.

“Answer the question, Sammy. Do you feel like you belong to him right now?”

“No,” I pant, both hating and loving that everything he’s doing and saying is only making me want him more.

“And why is that?” He’s so eerily calm, it’s unnerving when I feel anything but.

“Evan, please,” I beg.

“Why don’t you feel like you belong to him?” he questions.

“Because your dick is inside of me,” I snap impatiently.

“Why else?”

“Because you tattooed your fucking initials on me.”

“Why else?”

“Because you put your name on my clothes and the stupid anklet I can’t get off and this necklace you literally collared me with.”

“But you need all of those things, don’t you, my little Wild One. You need to be claimed so thoroughly it’s beyond question. You’re not there yet, but that’s okay,” he says, his voice soft and frustratingly possessive.

The pressure on the chain around my neck lessens as he pulls his dick out of me, leaving me empty, needy, and bereft.

“Evan?” I question, blinking through my disbelief as he pulls my panties and leggings back up my legs, covering me up, before he tugs his own pants back into place.

“Bookstore,” he says cheerfully, pulling me upright and taking my hand, leading us back into the daylight, his lips spread into a wide smile.