Chapter 31 Lottie
Lottie
Oscar sits back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes, dark and satisfied, drift from my wrecked form to the two men in the chairs. Elijah looks utterly shattered, his head bowed. Roman is leaning forward, his body tense, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“Now, Lottie. Suck me and let Crew finally know what your pussy feels like wrapped around his cock.” Oscar’s command hangs in the air, a sharp, intoxicating order that cuts through the lingering haze of my orgasm.
“Archer?” I whisper his name, a question and a plea rolled into one. His chin rests on my shoulder, his stubble rough against my skin.
“You want them to watch you take him, sweetheart?” His voice is a low rumble against my ear, a private sound just for me. “Do you want them to know that this is what they might lose?”
I look past Oscar’s waiting form to the two men in the chairs.
Elijah’s eyes are wide, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists on his knees.
Roman is a statue of pure, undiluted want, his stare so hot I feel it like a brand.
A new kind of power, hot and dark, uncoils in my belly.
They see me, not as a victim, but as this…
this worshipped, desired center of everything.
The fear from this afternoon feels a million miles away, drowned out by the pounding of my heart.
“Yes.”
Oscar doesn’t wait. He moves forward, his lean body settling on the edge of the bed in front of me. His cock stands rigid against his stomach, flushed and demanding. My mouth waters.
Archer begins to move, allowing Crew to take his place. Crew doesn’t need to be told again. He slides into me, then back, a slow, deep withdrawal that makes me gasp, followed by a thrust that pushes me forward, toward Oscar. The motion is relentless, a steady rhythm that rocks my entire body.
I lean into the next forward rock, my mouth opening.
I taste the clean, musky scent of him, and a low groan vibrates in his chest. I take him in, sliding my lips down his length as Crew pushes into me from behind, filling me so completely I can feel the dual sensation in my core, a dizzying feedback loop of pleasure.
Oh god.
My world narrows to this. The push and pull.
The stretch of my mouth. The deep, claiming fill from both of them.
Crew’s pace is measured, powerful, each thrust maneuvering me onto Oscar’s cock.
I find a rhythm, bobbing my head in time with Crew’s movements, letting him set the pace.
My hands come up to grip Oscar’s thighs, my nails digging into the hard muscle there.
Oscar’s fingers thread through my hair, not forcing, just guiding.
“That’s it, baby,” Archer murmurs from the side. “Just like that. Use your tongue.”
I swirl my tongue around the sensitive ridge, and Oscar hisses, his hips giving a tiny, involuntary jerk. I can feel Crew’s breath getting harsher, his thrusts becoming more urgent. The wet, slick sounds of our bodies meeting fill the room.
I open my eyes, looking up at Oscar through my lashes. His intense gaze is locked on me, watching every flick of my tongue, every movement of my lips around him. The dominance in his expression is intoxicating, and it makes me suck him deeper, taking him to the back of my throat.
I relax into it, accepting him, and a guttural sound of approval escapes him.
My attention shifts to the chairs. Elijah is no longer looking shattered.
He’s mesmerized, his lips slightly parted, his chest rising and falling fast. His stare is fixed on where Crew and I are joined, on the way my body jolts with every deep thrust.
Roman is palming himself through his jeans, a blatant, hungry motion he isn’t even trying to hide. His eyes burn into me, and I feel a thrill so sharp it’s almost painful.
They’re burning.
They’re aching.
For me.
Crew’s rhythm falters, his control fraying. He drives into me, hard and deep, and grunts, “I’m close, Lottie.”
The sensation of him pulsing inside me, the way his body locks up, sends a fresh wave of heat through me. I moan around Oscar’s cock, the vibration making his fingers tighten in my hair. He thrusts gently into my mouth, once, twice, and then his release is flooding my throat, hot and salty.
I swallow reflexively, taking everything he gives me, my own body clenching around Crew, that whites out my vision for a second.
For a long moment, we are a tangled, breathless mess. Crew slumps over my back, his weight a warm, heavy blanket. I release Oscar with a soft, wet sound, resting my forehead against his thigh as I try to remember how to breathe.
Oscar gently extracts his fingers from my hair, brushing a sweaty strand from my brow.
His dark eyes shift from my spent form to the two men still watching, their tension thicker than ever. A slow, predatory smile plays on his lips.
Crew’s breathing is still ragged behind me, his forehead pressed between my shoulder blades. The air in the room feels heavy, alive with something unspoken that thrums between us all.
Oscar leans forward, brushing his knuckles along my jaw in a gesture so gentle it almost hurts. There’s warmth in his eyes, the kind of warmth that sees everything, even the pieces I try to keep buried. “Breathe,” he signs.
I do. Slowly. My chest rises and falls until the trembling fades.
Crew’s hands slip from my hips, one lingering against my back before he straightens, tugging his shirt down.
When I finally lift my head, Roman and Elijah are still there…
both motionless, both caught in that suspended quiet that feels too heavy to break.
Roman’s gaze meets mine, and it’s fire and regret all at once. There’s no judgment in his eyes. Just ache. That deep, hollow kind that comes from wanting to say everything you’ve never been brave enough to speak. “I can’t look at you,” he says roughly, “without remembering every mistake I made.”
I swallow hard, unsure if I want to comfort him or make him feel it. “You already paid for them,” I whisper.
He shakes his head, jaw tightening. “No. I’m still paying for them. Every time I see you like this… Alive… Untouchable. I remember how close I came to ruining that. You have no idea what that does to me, Lottie.”
The silence stretches between us until I can’t bear it anymore. “You’re here now… Isn’t that what matters?”
Roman looks away, exhaling hard. “You think I don’t know that?
” He scrubs a hand over his face, every word ground out.
“I just…” He stops, then looks up at me again.
“You’re the reason I’m still trying to be better.
You gave me a chance to fix something that never should’ve been broken… and I swear to you. I won’t waste it.”
There’s a crack in his voice that he doesn’t bother to hide.
I move without thinking. Reach for him without thinking. My fingers curl around his wrist, but he doesn’t move at first, just stares at the way our skin touches like it’s a mirage. Then slowly, painfully, he turns his hand over, linking our fingers.
“I know,” I tell him past the ache in my throat. “You already are, Roman.”
His expression softens, just barely, before he lets out a shaky laugh. “You shouldn’t be the one comforting me.”
I shrug. “Maybe I want to.”
Oscar shifts, “Maybe these conversations should be had while Lottie wears some clothes?”
I shoot him a look that’s somewhere between exasperation and affection, tugging one of Archer’s shirts from the floor and slipping it over my head.
Crew chuckles, low in his chest, but Elijah doesn’t laugh.
He’s watching me.
Really watching.
There’s something in his expression—something tangled and unreadable, a storm of emotion behind the restraint. His eyes trail the fading marks on my neck, the fresh bruises along my jaw from Lorenzo’s grip, the tremor I keep trying to hide in my fingers.
When I glance up, his gaze meets mine and doesn’t move.
Roman catches the shift, clears his throat. “We’ll leave you two to it.”
Crew mutters something under his breath and drags Oscar and Archer out of the room, leaving just Elijah and me.
He runs a hand through his hair, slow, deliberate, like he’s buying himself time before he speaks. “You shouldn’t have been alone, Lottie.”
“I know.” The words come out small, and I hate that they do.
He exhales, jaw tight, then leans back against the counter. His voice is calm, but it carries weight. “When I heard… when Will called and said Lorenzo had found you… I thought my heart stopped. I thought…” He trails off, shaking his head. “I can’t go through losing you again.”
“You never lost me, though.”
He looks up sharply. “Didn’t I? You disappeared, and I never knew if it was because we drove you to it or if it was something else. Something I could have stopped. I made a grave for you, Lottie. Do you think there would be any part of me that would be sane if something happened to you again?”
He’s not angry… he’s broken. A quiet devastation in every word. I take a step toward him, hesitant. “You saved my dad. You put him in rehab. You made sure he got to live.”
Elijah’s throat works. His eyes glisten, but he blinks hard, holding it back. “I did it because I couldn’t save you. It was the only thing I could do. When I saw you again, I thought I was dreaming. I thought if I blinked too hard, you’d vanish again.”
I reach for him before I can think better of it, pressing my palm flat against his chest. His heartbeat thunders beneath my hand. “I’m right here,” I whisper.
He looks down at my hand, then back at my face, like he’s memorizing every detail.
He cups the side of my face gently, fingers brushing the faint swelling at my temple.
His touch is careful, reverent. “You fought back,” he says, pride threaded through his grief.
He stares at me for a long moment, something raw flickering across his face.
Then, without another word, he closes the distance.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, voice breaking on the edges.
“Like what?”
“Like I didn’t nearly break you.”
I start to speak, but he doesn’t give me the chance.
His lips crash into mine. Sudden, desperate, like something inside him snapped.
The kiss isn’t careful or rehearsed. It’s messy and aching and full of everything neither of us ever said.
His hand slides to the back of my neck, and I grab his shirt, pulling him closer, tasting the salt of his tears, or maybe mine.
When he finally pulls away, he does it slowly, as if tearing himself free costs him something vital. His forehead rests against mine for a heartbeat, both of us breathless.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he says, voice hoarse.
“I’m glad you did,” I whisper.
He exhales hard, stepping back a pace, raking a hand through his hair. I take a half-step toward him anyway, and his eyes shut like he’s in pain.
“You deserve someone who doesn’t carry this much blood on his hands,” he says quietly. “And I… I don’t know how to be that yet.”
I swallow, throat tight. “Then learn. We all are.”
That pulls the faintest smile from him, crooked and aching. “God, you sound just like her,” he murmurs.
“Who?”
“The old you. The one who held three broken boys together until we turned on you.”
“I’m still her,” I tell him. “Just… a little harder to break now.”
His gaze softens, then he nods once, forcing distance back into his posture like it’s the only way to breathe. “Get ready, Lottie… And just know that I’ll be watching you tonight. No one will get close to you.”
As I turn to leave, he calls after me.“Lottie?”
I look back.
“If I ever touch you again,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “it’ll be because I’ve earned it.”