15. Indigo
fifteen
Indigo
Really, I’ve survived a lot, so it’s pretty stupid to think the cold bath got to me. Once I was in, I felt silly to call in reinforcements. I practically sizzled when I sat down, my eyes on Hank and hands gripping him for dear life.
He guided me through it, and before I even noticed, Nash said it was good enough. I’d stay a little longer if I had to.
As much as the icy bath helped me to return to myself, it forced me to look into Hank’s eyes and relax under his care.
It’s not something I like to do. You could cut the tension with a knife, especially when I stood as naked as the day I was born, and the three cowboys struggled to look anywhere but at me.
Now I’m in bed, wearing a fluffy robe that I have no idea how it got here because it wasn’t around when I arrived.
Between the pillows, I drink a lemon and eucalyptus concoction Nash handed to me.
I don’t know if it’s doing anything because the more time goes by, the hotter I feel.
The fever might be down, but I know it’s lurking, coming for me when I least expect it.
“How do you feel?” Nash asks.
I shrug. “It’s fine now.”
“Fine…” he repeats, rubbing his face as he starts pacing in the room.
He doesn’t look fine. Actually, the three of them are looking very nervous and unable to stand still.
“Of course she’s fine.” Cassidy laughs.
I make a face, hearing the acidity of his comment. “What is going on now?”
Since everyone promised not to touch me, and I tested that out by needing to be manhandled into a bath, I’m in an awfully good mood. The weird food and drinks Nash keeps giving me are good enough. I’m not hungry or scared.
What crawled into everyone’s ass?
Cassidy doesn’t reply. His head hangs, and he closes his eyes, so I direct my questioning gaze to Hank, who looks just as disturbed as the rest of them.
“You’re perfuming a lot, Indie. It’s…” His hand is on the back of his neck, and he’s obviously uncomfortable.
I sniff the air like a bunny rabbit looking for some lettuce, but of course I can't smell what they do, so I just shrug and relax back in the pillows. I'm comfortable now, and I might as well take it while I have it this good.
“Rest,” Nash says as he takes the glass from my hands.
I don't need to be told twice. I'm exhausted from all the running away and the heat, so before they even turn off the lights, I drift off into a dreamless sleep.
Fire licks between my legs like the tongue of a demon. My eyes snap open, my back arches, and a sinful moan slips past my lips. I'm not sure how long it has been since I went to sleep, but it feels like an eternity, and my body isn't mine anymore.
White knuckles grip the sheets as another wave of unadulterated pleasure crashes over me. I expect to find someone between my legs, but it’s just me and the devil eating me out.
As my eyes adjust to the low light and I see that I'm really alone, I part the robe I went to sleep on, and my fingers trace down until I find my clit and start relieving the ache.
Spitting curses, I come so damn quickly my vision turns white. My limbs are shaking, skin coated in sweat dripping down the pristine white sheets below me.
The neediness of my pussy doesn't give me a second to breathe. I'm still high from my orgasm, my clit throbbing, and suddenly I'm empty again. Before I think better of this, I start rubbing myself again furiously.
There's an inferno inside me begging to come out like the Pandora box waiting to get opened. Hey, I'm that dumb bitch Pandora because I open the box. I open my pussy, the cold AC hits me, and I gasp as I sink two fingers right in.
I've always been a fan of touching myself.
It's my pleasure, and when the enemy takes so much from you, little things become acts of rebellion.
They raped me so damn much for so many years, yet my pleasure has always been mine.
They couldn't make me like their brutal hands. They never had that power over my body.
Now, I don’t feel like I have power over my own body. It sings and throbs and aches for the pack. There's no denying I'm thinking about them when I finger myself. I add another finger because I know they are thick and my body wants me to prepare for that.
Another anguished moan tears from my throat, and the door swings open, revealing Cassidy with a confused frown on his handsome face.
Why is he so gorgeous? Those brown eyes and strong jaw take a whimper from between my lips, and without any ounce of shame, I keep doing what I'm doing while looking directly at him.
Perverted satisfaction blossoms from my chest when his eyes dip between my legs, and he realizes what I'm doing. The man is over six feet, and he staggers watching me, hands balling into a fist.
“Is she okay?”
Hank grabs my attention, and I flicker my gaze to my mustache daddy. When did I start calling him that? I'm not sure, but the title fits so damn well it slips off my tongue along with a smile.
“Hi, Mustache Daddy.”
My hand doesn't stop rubbing this one out even with my new spectators. I know somewhere inside my brain shame is trying to burst out and claim me, but right now heat takes the front seat.
“Indigo… stop…”
Hank begs, and I almost feel sorry for my daddy. Really, this is not right, but I'm chasing an orgasm, and I can’t let it go now.
“Stop? Are you really asking her to stop?” Cassidy shakes his head as if ashamed of his packmate. His brown eyes turn to me, and he smirks. “Sour Peach, you keep going. Spread those beautiful legs and show me everything.”
As if my body is in tune with his requests, my legs fall open all while my furious hand chases that orgasm. My robe slips down when I arch my back and call Cassidy’s name.
The siren call works because he kneels over the bed, his eyes glued to my pussy as I rub and pump and beg. His features are dark, and he looms over me with his cock straining his jeans. I lick my lips, looking at him, and start wondering why I'm doing this and not him. This feels like his job.
Their job.
His hands hover over my knees. I never needed contact this much in my life. My whole body comes alive thinking about his hands on me, but before I can melt into the sensation, Nash stops us.
“Don't touch her!”
Now, that is the opposite of what I want. I pout, looking at Nash, but he shakes his head.
“We promised, Indie.”
Promised? What did he promise? I can't remember anymore. I shake my head and keep at it until the orgasm is so damn close I can taste it with the tip of my tongue.
“Let’s leave her to it,” Nash says, Adam's apple bobbing.
Just by looking at him, I know leaving me to it is the last thing he wants. Why is he torturing us all? I can’t fully understand what is happening, but my need is loud, and I’m not above begging.
“Touch me, Cassidy.”
“Indigo,” he growls like an animal.
This voice is low and vibrates within me. I gasp, mouth dry, legs twisting the sheets, and I come at once, flooding the room with my need. Even I can smell the perfume. Like a fucking hot, humid greenhouse, the room drips of me.
My pumping fingers halt. Cassidy throws his head back and moans. Fuck, that masculine moan has me undone, and when my eyes fall to his lap, I see he came on his jeans.
Fuuuuck me.
I made that man come without even touching him?
He’s not the only one beautifully affected.
Hank’s knees weaken so much he holds on to the wall beside him to keep straight.
And then there’s Nash… Goody Two-shoes Nash, who was just urging them not to touch me yet, now steps my way, knees hitting the bed before he stops himself from lying with me.
Their eyes make a hot path across my skin. My toes curl with need, and I’m back at square one. Back arching without any stimulation, I moan before I let my middle finger tease my clit, just a little, just barely.
Nash takes in a breath, groaning for the last time before he shakes his head, as if I’m the biggest temptation he’s ever seen. He points at me.
“No.” He shakes his head. “We need to get out of here and get our heads straight.”
“You better run, then,” I gasp. “Because I’m starting again…”
It’s obvious what I’m doing, but the warning shakes them into action, and they stumble out of the room. Like the tempting demon I am, I laugh to myself as another orgasm barrels into me.