46. Ava
CHAPTER 46
AVA
The walls of the apartment rattle with the relentless thud of Raf pounding away at his drum set, each beat a pulse that runs under my skin like static. I’m caught somewhere between tipsy and totally untethered; that dizzy, golden blur where the world feels too slow and too fast all at once, like I’m dreaming with my eyes open.
Ford, Wes, and I are lounging in the living room, tangled in the wreckage of the night. Empty bottles glint like broken promises on every surface. The air is thick with leftover adrenaline and sweat, the victory from earlier still clinging to our skin like smoke. I can’t stop replaying it– Raf’s fist cracking against that guy’s jaw, the flash of satisfaction on his face just before the knockout. The way he kissed me . It was brutal. Beautiful. It loops in my head, over and over, now underscored by the chaotic percussion bleeding through the walls.
I’m sprawled across the couch like a ragdoll, legs tucked up, head swimming. Ford’s perched on the armrest beside me, one hand loose around a half-drunk glass of whiskey, the other draped across his knee. His smirk hasn’t budged since we got back, lazy, dangerous, and far too self-satisfied.
“We should play a game,” he says suddenly, voice cutting through the haze of my mind like a match struck in the dark.
Wes glances up from where he’s sitting on the floor in front of me, back against the coffee table, a bottle resting against his thigh. His gray eyes are glassy, but there’s still that ever-present sharpness, lurking just under the buzz. “A drinking game?”
Ford’s grin widens, all teeth and trouble. “Truth or dare,” he says. “Except forget the truth. And add more booze instead.”
My stomach flips, part nerves, part anticipation.
Ford’s games aren’t about passing time, they’re about pushing buttons. Testing boundaries. Finding the cracks. And for some reason, I already know I’m going to play.
“Sounds like my kinda game,” Wes chuckles, his gaze flicking to me with a glint that’s hard to read. He’s drunker than I’ve ever seen him, lounging against the coffee table like it’s his throne, bottle cradled lazily in his hand. I probably look just as wasted, all flushed cheeks and glossy eyes, heart thudding too fast for this room.
Ford turns to me, arching a dark brow. “Unless Ava wants to bail.” The corners of his mouth curl into a smirk that’s half-taunt, half-invitation. His first dare.
I sit up straighter, blinking against the pull of the room as it sways. “I’m in,” I say, even though my voice is a touch too breathy to sell the confidence I’m aiming for. I can already feel it– that subtle shift in the air, the sense that we’re already on a slope and picking up speed. I don’t know if it’s me or the alcohol steering, but I don’t want to stop it. Not yet.
Ford downs the rest of the whiskey in his glass, leaning in with a predatory smile. The heat of him reaches me before his touch, the scent of liquor and cigarettes winding through the space between us. His eyes burn with challenge as his lips descend on mine without warning.
His kiss is both everything and nothing like I imagined it’d be. It’s all teeth and chaos, a collision of mouths and breath and heat. The way he kisses perfectly reflects the man himself, unapologetic and all-consuming. His tongue is demanding, claiming every inch of my mouth like it’s his right. Every thought in my head is gone, swallowed by the crash of him against me, by the spark that ignites low in my belly and explodes outward.
For a breathless, suspended moment in time, there’s nothing else but the spin of the room, the taste of whiskey, the feral claim of his mouth on mine.
Then he pulls away, the world jerking back into motion with a sickening lurch. My lungs claw for air, lips tingling and raw, pulse thrumming between my thighs. Across the room, Wes is watching us, eyes half-lidded and amused.
Ford smirks, slow and sure, like he knows exactly what he’s done and is damn proud of it. That dark, dangerous edge is back in full force, glittering beneath the surface of his cool exterior.
And me?
I’m still trying to remember which way is up.
“I think Wes is feeling left out,” Ford murmurs, licking his teeth. He nudges me toward him, and Wes lifts an eyebrow, eyes locking with mine. A lazy smirk plays at his mouth, but those gray eyes are as sharp and assessing as always.
I hesitate, just for a second. I can feel the edge of the cliff now; where everything I thought I knew slips away and something else takes over. This is the kind of moment that rewrites things. The kind that lingers.
The moment I start to lean forward, Wes dives in to close the remaining distance between us. His lips brush against mine, softer than Ford’s. Slower, but not sweet. It’s calculated and intentional, intimate in a way that makes my skin buzz. His tongue slides into my mouth, unhurried but thorough, like he’s savoring the taste of it, eager to find whatever secrets I’m hiding behind my teeth.
It’s a completely different kind of possession– where Ford devours, Wes unravels.
His fingers slip into my hair, gently tugging me closer, anchoring me there as the kiss deepens. I give in to it, to the pull of him, to inevitability of it all. My body comes to life beneath his hands like it’s been waiting for this, and even though it’s just the two of us, I feel Ford watching.
Awareness prickles along my skin like heat from a fire that’s too close. The quiet, consuming intensity of his gaze says that he’s letting this happen. Making it happen. And it’s messing with my head in a way I should probably fight, but don’t. I’m kissing Wes like I’m starved for it, because somewhere beneath the alcohol and adrenaline and the chaos that is these two men, something inside me wants this. Wants to fall. Wants to burn.
Wes pulls back to look at me, his breath warm against my lips. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something intensely fierce and possessive gleaming behind his calm exterior. My lungs feel starved, my chest tight. My body’s humming, alive with want and confusion and just a tinge of fear.
I reach for the whiskey again, my hand trembling slightly as I pick up the bottle and take a long drink. It scorches down my throat like fire, but it doesn’t help settle my nerves.
Wes leans back, still watching me with that lazy smile. Ford hasn’t moved. His eyes are dark, intense and unreadable as ever. I have no idea where this is going, but I’m suddenly dying to find out.
Ford pulls me into him again, and this time, I’m ready for it. His hands roam down my body, rough and eager, squeezing my breasts through my shirt as Wes kisses along my neck. It’s all happening at once, a flurry of sensation, and I’m shocked at how much I want it; how much I want them .
I gasp as Ford’s fingers meet my bare skin, snaking up under my shirt, pulling it up while Wes grabs for the hem. They’ve got me cornered on the couch, and I surrender to it, letting them strip the shirt off over my head. In the back of my mind, I know I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t give in so easily. But I’m suddenly on fire, every nerve lit up and aching for relief.
They don’t waste any time. Ford’s on me like the crush of a storm, his lips bruising mine, his hands everywhere. Wes’ touch roams over my body, fingers deftly unfastening the clasp of my bra and slipping it off. He leans down over my chest and his lips close around my nipple, sucking the stiff peak into the heat of his mouth.
“She’s got the best tits, doesn’t she?” Ford groans as he pulls back to watch what Wes is doing to me, palming the front of his jeans. “You should try fucking them, it feels incredible.”
A fresh wave of heat burns through me at the reminder of that particular encounter. I tried to convince myself I hated it at the time, but maybe I didn’t. Maybe part of me wanted it. Maybe I want it again.
“Yeah?” Wes chuckles, his voice vibrating against my skin. He looks up at me with a savage gleam in his eye, tongue circling my nipple. “Would you like that, sweetheart?”
I can’t answer with anything other than a moan as Ford reaches for my other nipple, pinching it sharply between his fingers. “Need to get it wet, first,” he murmurs, eyes flickering up to Wes. “Take your dick out, let her lick it a little.”
Before I can even blink, they’re both suddenly on their feet, pulling me up with them. I’m caught between the heat of their bodies, surrounded by muscle and masculinity. Ford unzips his jeans and shoves them down his hips, boxers slipping off after them. Wes quickly follows suit, and suddenly I’m standing topless between two Kings as they fist their huge cocks, wondering how the hell we even got here.
“Get on your knees, Ava baby,” Ford coaxes, his silky words wrapping around me in command.
Wes leans in, lips tickling the shell of my ear as he murmurs, “We know you want to.”
The room spins, the world spins, everything spins until the only thing that makes sense is dropping to my knees and going along with this utter insanity. I’m caught up in the rush, swept away in the madness of it all.
My knees sink into the plush rug, putting me at eye level with their hard dicks. It’s overwhelming to have them both crowding around me like this, but I’m salivating to taste them, to harness and control their pleasure. I lean toward Wes, lips parting to take him into my mouth, his responsive groan like a jolt through my body.
“Damn that’s hot,” Ford chokes, his fist flying up and down his shaft as he watches me swallow Wes deeper. “Take it all, Ava baby. Feed her more, Wes. Our little slut’s hungry for dick.”
His filthy words should sicken me, but instead, they spur me on, spit dribbling down my chin as I bob up and down on Wes’ length. Then I release him with a loud pop, turning my head toward Ford, dizzy with sensory overload. He helps me out by sinking a hand into my hair and guiding my mouth to the tip of his cock. Velvet glides across my tongue as I take him in, hollowing out my cheeks, sucking hard while trying not to choke around his girth.
Ford’s voice washes over me like a drug, encouraging me to take more, to let go. I work my way back to Wes’s cock, pumping Ford’s in my fist, then I switch again, the alternating rhythm as intoxicating as the liquor in my blood. My hands stroke what my mouth can’t take in, and I feel their muscles tensing, hear their breathing growing more ragged. My heartbeat is pulsing between my thighs, the obscenity of pleasuring two men at once driving me out of my mind with lust.
I’m choking around Ford’s dick when Raf kicks his bedroom door open. He throws it so hard against the wall that the startling crash almost makes me bite down, but Ford actually seems to like the graze of my teeth, shoving deeper into my mouth as the thud of Raf’s boots echoes down the hallway toward us. I push back against Ford’s thighs, trying to pull away, but he doesn’t let me until Raf steps into the room and sees exactly what he’s been missing, his body going rigid as he takes in the raunchy scene.
Ford pulls out of my mouth and I gasp for air, folding forward with my hands on my thighs.
“Don’t stop on my account,” Raf growls, dark eyes boring into mine.
There’s no smirk, no anger. Just that intense stare like he’s drilling straight through me, his face frustratingly unreadable. I’m trapped in his gaze, paralyzed with indecision. Then Ford’s fingers sink into my hair again, guiding my mouth toward Wes’ waiting cock.
My lips part to take him in, and suddenly everything about the act is intensified. My face is burning hot, my body on fire. I’m hyper-aware of the vulnerable position I’m in, but the insane rush of adrenaline and shame and lust mixes together until I can’t tell one from the other. I’m spiraling out of control, freefalling into chaos without a parachute.
Raf crosses over to the sofa, sinking down onto it with careless ease as if there’s not a live porno playing out right in front of him. Something about his casual indifference makes me feel even more reckless and wild, desperate to provoke a reaction. I pop off Wes’ cock, breathing hard, turning to take Ford back in. I go harder, faster, sucking Ford and working Wes with my hand, putting on a show for the only King who refuses to touch me like this.
Everything blurs around me except for the heady weight of Raf’s stare. Ford’s grip in my hair is rough as Wes shoves in deep, hitting the back of my throat. I choke around him, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. I’m frantic with the desire to bring them to ruin, to let my stepbrother watch from the sidelines as his friends use me to chase their pleasure. I’m honestly not sure whether I want to piss him off or tempt him to join in. My lungs burn with the need for oxygen, my throat suffocated by Wes’ cock. I gasp and pull back, sucking in air, and Ford promptly grabs my face and turns it toward him, holding me in place as he shoves past my lips.
“Fuck, just like that,” Ford grits out, throwing his head back on a groan as I take him deep. He comes hard and fast, shooting down my throat, the sudden shock of it making me gag. I swallow every drop, then Wes pulls me onto him, groaning as he thrusts a few times, then fills my mouth with his own salty release. I’m overwhelmed, suffocating, the two of them taking everything from me, and I don’t stop. I swallow, desperate and needy, more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life.
Collapsing to the floor, my jaw aches and body trembles as I fight to catch my breath. I’m dizzy, feeling like I’m outside my body, but then Raf’s eyes meet mine and the look on his face pulls me back from wherever I just went. His lip curls, chin lifting like he’s beckoning me over.
Something deep inside me lights up at the gesture– a spark of hope, an answer to a silent ache. I know I shouldn’t want this, but I can’t deny how attracted I am to Raf. There’s a magnetic pull between us that he’s been stubbornly fighting against from the start, and the thought of him finally giving in, of joining the three of us in this madness, gives me butterflies.
I want it.
I start crawling toward him, every movement slow and deliberate, even in my hazy state. It’s a reckless act of seduction, a desperate plea for him to give into the hunger and finally take what he wants. Raf leans back and spreads his knees, watching me with those unreadable eyes as I cross the room to him. My own vision is so clouded with lust that I can’t even see the trap he’s laid out for me– not until I’ve crawled right into it.
I reach for Raf’s belt as I rise up on my knees in front of him, but my fingers never land. A hand shoots out to capture both my wrists, his other one grabbing my chin and yanking me in. He leans down menacingly, getting right in my face, and for a stupid, fleeting second, I think he might kiss me again.
“You don’t get to touch my dick, whore ,” Raf snarls, his words punching the air from my lungs, stealing the fire from my chest.
I tremble against his hold, the sharp sting of tears burning behind my eyes. “B-but I’m your Doll,” I whisper desperately, my bottom lip quivering.
He lowers his face even closer to mine, those dark, soulless eyes pinning me in place. “You’re a paper doll, Ava,” he deadpans. “Pretty to look at, but there’s no substance to you.”
I recoil at the viciousness of it, feeling like he just stabbed me in through the heart, leaving me bleeding and broken and small.
He lets go, shoving me away and abruptly pushing up to his feet. I crumple to the floor at his feet and he steps over me like I’m nothing, like I’m fucking invisible, disposable, his heavy footfalls echoing as he leaves the room.
I curl in on myself, every nerve ending raw, every emotion sharp. A shiver racks my body, but I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or my stepbrother’s cruelty. Maybe both. Maybe neither. I’m not sure it even matters.