Chapter 26 – ELLIE
ELLIE
The water's way too fucking hot, but I don't turn it down.
Steam fills the bathroom, turning everything into a hazy dream where maybe the last hour didn't happen. Where I didn't just let Jinx eat me out and mark my skin with his come like I'm a canvas for their twisted art while Cyrus fucked my mouth.
I lean my forehead against the tile, letting the spray pound against my shoulders, washing away the physical evidence even as the memory burns itself deeper into my brain.
My lips still feel swollen.
My thighs are still shaking.
And I'm still reeling from just how much I liked it.
The soap smells like vanilla—my own, from the duffel I hastily packed—and I lather it between my hands, scrubbing at the dried come on my back.
Jinx painted his name there with it. I felt him do it, those light strokes across my spine while Cyrus watched with something that was definitely either approval or jealousy.
Hard to tell with him.
Good boy.
The phrase loops in my head, Cyrus's voice wrapped around those two words in a way that made Jinx shudder and come like someone flipped a switch.
I replay the moment, trying to understand the dynamic I stumbled into.
The way Jinx melted at the praise. The way Cyrus commanded him with zero hesitation, like it was routine. Natural.
Like they've done this before. A lot.
My fingers find my clit almost automatically, the touch sending sparks through my oversensitive nerves.
I'm still turned on. Still wet despite two orgasms that should have left me satisfied.
The image of them together—Jinx on his knees while Cyrus fucks his throat the way he just fucked mine—makes the pressure build all over again.
I wonder if they know I know.
If Cyrus exposed their secret on purpose or if it slipped out in the heat of the moment.
Either way, it's fucking hot. Two beautiful men using each other while fucking me at the same time. Almost makes it easy to forget what this is really about.
Punishment.
They hate me for leaving. They want to make me pay. And yet, this room they're keeping me in is practically a shrine. More proof they haven't forgotten about me like I'd feared.
My mind continues to wander as I find the same rhythm Jinx was working me with minutes ago.
I imagine it's his hand again, his long fingers circling my clit, the cool metal of his rings warming up against my heated skin.
This time, he's inside me and so is Cyrus, grinding against each other, stretching my pussy to the breaking point.
I come with a moan I only hope I successfully muffled in my hand. Fuck, that's going to be a new fantasy that haunts me long after my contract is up.
I rinse off, watching soap spiral down the drain.
The mirror's fogged over, which is a blessing.
I don't need to see my face to know it's flushed with more pleasure than I've ever felt before in my life.
Don't want to examine the girl who just begged two of her former best friends to distract her from watching a murder by letting them use her body.
Not that any of them has actually fucked me yet.
I wrap the towel around myself and dry my hair, just to buy myself more time. When I finally walk back out into my new luxurious prison, Cyrus is gone, which comes as no surprise, but Jinx is still sitting there on freshly changed linens and he has my hairbrush in his hand.
"Come here."
The command isn't laced with the same dominance as Cyrus's, but it's equally compelling in its own way. I find myself walking over to sit on the edge of the bed.
"What are you going to do with that?" I ask warily, because apparently, my Jinx is a degenerate now.
His lips quirk into a smile that says he knows exactly where my mind has wandered.
"Naughty girl," he purrs, grabbing my hips and pulling me onto the edge of the bed between his legs.
He leans forward, his arms winding around my waist and his breath hot on my neck as he whispers, "We'll save that for when you misbehave. Or when you beg for it."
A shudder crawls its way up my spine, and another when he runs his long fingers through my freshly dried hair. He pulls the tresses behind my shoulders and the brush replaces his fingers as he runs it through my hair in long, gentle strokes.
The familiarity of it sits at odds with the newness of what we've just done, but somehow, it all feels… right.
The silence between us is broken only by Jinx occasionally humming a bar from whatever pop songs on the radio have gotten stuck in his head, just like before.
This finally feels so fucking normal.
If I close my eyes, I can almost pretend we're back there in my old room, and nothing has really changed.
I've actually gotten pretty good at it by the time I hear a door slam downstairs, jolting me back to reality.
The brush freezes mid-stroke and I feel Jinx tense behind me. "I should probably go check on that," he says with a sigh, setting the brush aside before he gets off the bed. "You get dressed."
As soon as he's gone, I hastily throw on a clean pair of pants and a sweatshirt—my own, this time—before following the sound of voices.
Agitated voices.
My feet carry me to the hallway before I can think better of it.
The voices are clearer now, coming from the living room.
Cyrus, definitely. His tone has that sharp edge he gets when something's gone sideways.
And Jinx, trying to calm him down with that soothing lilt that usually works on everyone except Cyrus when he's in full crisis mode.
I creep down the stairs, bare feet silent on the hardwood. They're in the living room, Cyrus pacing while talking rapid-fire into his phone, Jinx perched on the arm of the couch with his own phone pressed to his ear.
"—don't give a fuck what the cleanup crew says," Cyrus snaps into his phone, pushing his glasses up with his free hand. "I need confirmation that Kade is stable before we move forward with anything else."
The room spins.
"What's going on?"
Both of them freeze.
Jinx looks at me first, his expression shifting through several emotions before settling on blank. "Princess. You should go back upstairs."
"What happened?" I step into the living room, my eyes darting between them. "Where's Kade?"
Cyrus ends his call with a curt "keep me updated" and turns to face me. His jaw is tight, anxiety coming off him like a fucking furnace. "There was a situation at the docks."
"What docks? What kind of situation?" My voice is steady even though my heart's trying to punch through my ribs.
"The kind that involves guns," Jinx says, standing up from the couch. He moves toward me like he's approaching a spooked horse, hands up in a placating gesture. "But it's handled now. Kade's fine."
"Define fine." I cross my arms, refusing to be soothed. "If he's fine, why do you both look like someone died?"
They exchange a glance, one of those silent conversations I used to be part of and now I'm shut out of. The exclusion stings more than it should, and I have to remind myself I'm not a part of their world anymore. Not this one.
"Several someones died," Cyrus admits, running a hand through his hair. "But none of them were ours. Kade's on his way back now."
"Is he hurt?" The question slips out before I can stop it.
Jinx's expression softens slightly. "Just grazed. Nothing serious."
"Grazed by what?"
"A bullet," Cyrus says, like he's discussing a paper cut instead of a gunshot wound. "But Tank's with him. They'll be here soon."
A bullet. Kade got shot. The man took a bullet in the same day as he killed someone in cold blood, and they're talking about it like it's a stubbed toe.
What the fuck is my life?
At least I have the terrifying realization Tank is coming back to focus on. I've been looking up hopefully every time I hear heavy footsteps like everything might somehow be better if Tank would stop avoiding me like the fucking plague. And now that I know he's coming, I'm scared.
Scared because I'm going to have to face the irrevocable truth that my Tank—the boy I would have chosen if my life hadn't been ripped away from me—is dead and gone like Kade.
At least I can catch glimpses of my boys in Jinx and Cyrus.
I sink onto the couch, my legs finally giving out. The collar feels heavier suddenly, the weight of it pressing down on my throat like it's trying to remind me this is exactly what I signed up for.
Violence and heartbreak.
"You okay?" Jinx asks, sitting beside me. His hand lands on my knee, warm and solid.
"No." The honesty surprises me. "I'm not okay. None of this is okay."
Before anyone can respond, the front door crashes open.
My head snaps toward the sound, heart in my throat. Tank appears first, his massive frame filling the doorway and blood on his hands. Then Kade, leaning heavily on Tank's shoulder, his face pale beneath the grime and his left arm wrapped in what looks like a torn shirt soaked through with red.
I'm moving before I can think.
My feet carry me across the room, the distance evaporating to nothing as I reach them. My hands hover over Kade, wanting to touch, to check, to make sure he's really okay, but not knowing where it's safe to put them.
"You're bleeding," I say, and it's possibly the most obvious observation in the history of observations, but my brain's short-circuited somewhere between seeing him hurt and remembering I'm supposed to hate him.
Kade's smirk is immediate, even though his face is too pale and his breathing's too shallow. "Aww, is Princess worried about me?" he asks sluggishly.
"Fuck off." The response is automatic, defensive, but my hands are still hovering near him like they're magnetically drawn. "You can't kill my stepfather if you're fucking dead, dumbass."