Chapter 20
Annabelle
I’ve never been fucked so thoroughly before, and I feel this may have spoiled me for future fuckings. But this isn’t the end.
Ethan barely gives me time to breathe before he is pulling me up and flipping me onto my hands and knees. His hands grip my hips, hard enough to bruise, but I don’t care. I want the marks. I want to feel this tomorrow.
“Ethan,” I gasp, but he doesn’t answer. He just lines himself up and slams into me with one brutal thrust that knocks the air from my lungs. My arms nearly give out. Aidan and Callan’s gazes make my skin prickle.
Ethan doesn’t give me time to adjust. He pulls back and drives into me again, deeper this time, harder.
Every thrust tears a sound out of me I don’t recognise as my own voice—ragged, breaking, too loud for the room.
The slap of skin on skin is relentless and rhythmic, and I can’t tell anymore which noise is him and which is me.
His fingers dig into my hips, holding me exactly where he wants me while he fucks me like he’s trying to imprint himself inside me.
“Fuck,” he grits out. “You take my cock so well.”
I can’t answer. My mouth is open, but no words come out.
Every thrust sends a jolt of pleasure straight through me, and I’m already close again.
My body is oversensitive, still trembling from the last orgasm, but Ethan doesn’t care.
He keeps going, relentlessly hard enough to make my vision flicker.
His grip shifts, one hand sliding up my spine to tangle in my hair, pulling just enough to arch my back.
The new angle lets him go deeper, and I cry out, my fingers clawing at the sheets.
“Ethan,” I sob, because I can’t help it. His name is the only thing that makes sense right now.
He leans over me, his chest pressed to my back, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re mine,” he growls, his voice rough with possession. “You’ll take what I give you. Say it.”
I shake my head, but the words spill out anyway. “Yours. I’ll take it. All of it.”
He groans, low and deep, and his hips snap forward again, harder this time. I can feel him everywhere—inside me, around me, under my skin. His hand tightens in my hair, pulling just enough to make my scalp burn, and I gasp as the pleasure sharpens, edges into something almost painful.
Aidan moves closer, his eyes dark with hunger. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against my cheek, then sliding down to my throat. His touch is light at first, almost gentle, but then his grip tightens, just enough to make my pulse jump. “You look so fucking good impaled on his cock.”
His fingers tighten, and I feel the edge of something darker creeping into the pleasure.
It’s not pain. Not exactly. It’s the kind of sharpness that makes everything else feel more real.
My breath hitches, and I push back against Ethan, meeting every thrust with a roll of my hips that makes him groan.
Aidan’s hand stays at my throat, his thumb pressing into the side of my neck where my pulse is hammering. His other hand slides between my legs. His fingers find my clit, already swollen and sensitive, and he pinches it roughly.
I squeak as my body quivers in response, jerking against Ethan’s cock, a broken sound tearing out of me. Aidan’s touch is too much and not enough all at once. My body is still trembling from the last orgasm, but the pressure is building again, hot and insistent, coiling tight in my belly.
“That’s it,” Aidan murmurs, his voice rough. “Let him fuck you apart while I make you come again.”
Ethan’s grip on my hair tightens, and he pulls me back against him, his chest flush with my spine. His mouth finds the side of my neck, teeth scraping lightly before he bites down just hard enough to make me gasp. His free hand slides around my waist and locks in place, holding me tight.
I spiral again, faster than I thought possible.
I can’t think. I can’t breathe. All I can do is feel. My body is no longer my own. It belongs to them to use me, to take what they want without apology.
Ethan’s breath is ragged against my neck. “You’re going to come again, like a dirty girl,” he growls. “I can feel your cunt ready to break me.”
“Yes,” I whimper. “Yes.”
My pussy is already tightening around him, the pressure building too fast to stop.
Aidan’s fingers pinch harder, and I cry out, my back arching as the pleasure spikes through me.
Ethan’s grip on my hair tightens, holding me in place while he fucks me through it, his hips driving into me like he has nowhere else to be.
“Ethan,” I sob, my voice breaking. “I can’t—”
“You can,” he says, his voice rough. “You will. We are going to mark you so good, no man will ever look at you again.”
“Do it,” I rasp.
Aidan’s fingers stay on my clit, circling now with deliberate slowness that makes my thighs shake.
“Fuck,” I gasp, twisting on the sheets.
Ethan’s grip on me tightens to hold me in place. “I’m not feeling you coming, Tinks.”
“Fuck me harder then,” I growl.
“Little bitch,” he grits out and releases me, shoving me forward, so Aidan also lets me go, his cock still buried inside me. He slaps my arse so hard, I cry out in shock.
“Fuck!”
“More for being an ungrateful little Tinkerbell.”
He doesn’t stop. Another slap lands, sharper this time, the sting blooming across my skin and sinking deeper than the surface.
My breath catches, but it isn’t pain that makes my pussy clench around him.
It’s his voice when it drops, when he calls me that name, his fingers digging into my flesh like he’s trying to leave marks that last.
“Again,” I say, because I want it. I want to feel him everywhere tomorrow, in every step I take, in every breath I draw. I want to remember this when Bennett’s hands are too close to me instead.
Ethan’s palm connects with my arse again, harder. The sound cracks through the room, and I cry out, my back arching. My pussy clenches around his cock, and he groans, low and rough, his fingers tightening on my hips.
“That’s better,” he mutters. “Come all over me.”
Ethan’s thrusts turn erratic. “Harder, Tinks. I want you to come so hard you will feel it for a week.”
Tears spring into my eyes as he rams his cock deeper into me. Then it happens. It’s sudden, it’s forceful, and it floods over his cock, soaking him.
He feels it and grunts, shooting his load into me as his hand lands on my arse again. His cock jerks wildly inside me, and I collapse. He holds me up as he drains himself in my pussy, and then he withdraws harshly, letting me fall to the bed.
He climbs off and pulls open the bedside drawer. Aidan flips me over so I’m lying on my back, twitching as my orgasm hasn’t even finished yet.
Ethan uncaps a marker pen and presses the top to the skin on my lower stomach. “Mine,” he says. “You washed it off once. You won’t be able to so easily this time. One day, when you are ready, it will be permanent.”
I gasp as he writes his name above my pussy with an arrow pointing down possessively.
Aidan shifts beside me, his fingers tracing the fresh ink with something like approval. “Good,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “Now it’s my turn.”
I swallow hard, my pulse still erratic from the last round. I feel used in the best way, every nerve raw and alive. Callan watches from the edge of the bed, but his eyes track every movement like he’s memorising the scene.
Aidan doesn’t waste time. He grabs the marker from Ethan and flips me onto my stomach, his hand firm on my hip.
The tip of the pen presses against my skin at my lower back, and I suck in a breath as he starts to write.
His strokes are slower, more deliberate, like he’s carving his name into me, but I don’t flinch. I want it. I want all of it.
“Aidan,” I whisper, my voice hoarse as he claims possession of my arse.
Callan takes the marker from his brother and turns me gently, scrawling his name over my heart. “There isn’t a single inch of you that isn’t ours,” he murmurs.
The words hit me harder than the actions.
My chest rises too fast. My skin feels feverish where they have written on me. Claimed me. Marked me in places no one else gets to know. I lie there for one suspended second, stomach damp with sweat, legs weak, heart pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears.
Then Callan’s hand slides under my jaw and turns my face towards him.
His expression is dark and unreadable. His thumb brushes the corner of my mouth once. “Do you understand what you’ve done?”
I lick my lips. “Invited three obsessive men into a bed and let them vandalise me?”
Aidan laughs, wrecked and low. Ethan’s hand is possessive on my hip.
Callan’s eyes don’t leave mine. “You asked for all of us.”
“I know.”
“And now you’ve got us.”
Heat twists low in my belly all over again, impossible and real. “Good.”
He nods.
Ethan takes the marker from Callan and tosses it back into the drawer. “Enough talking.”
I turn my head on the pillow and look at him. He is still hard. All three of them are. My body gives a helpless pulse at the sight. I am absolutely ruined for ordinary life after this.
Aidan catches that look and grins. “See? She’s not done.”
“I can barely feel my legs,” I admit.
“Your mouth still needs—”
Ethan cuts him off with a look. “No.”
Aidan’s grin fades by half an inch. “You saying no for her now?”
“I make the decisions.”
“He does,” I murmur with a small smile.
I hate that he is right. My whole body is quivering.
My thighs feel worked open. My skin burns where they spanked me, where they bit me, where black ink dries on me in their names.
I am turned on enough to whimper at the sight of them, but I am also one hard breath away from floating right out of my body.
Callan sees it too. His fingers leave my jaw. “He’s right.”
I let out a weak, annoyed sound. “I hate when you’re sensible after all that.”
Aidan snorts. “Trust me, little bell, I’m not sensible.”
“No,” I mutter. “You’re a menace with a marker pen.”
That gets a proper laugh out of him, rough and tired. It loosens something in the room. The violence of the last hour settles into heat, breath, sweat, and the heavy awareness of too many emotions living too close together.
Ethan disappears into the en-suite and comes back with a warm flannel. He kneels on the bed beside me and starts cleaning me up with infuriating gentleness, careful not to touch the names.
“Did you forget?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Did I just remind you?” he smirks.
“Yes.”
“We will distract you again after you’ve rested.”
“And eaten, and I bet you haven’t taken your supplements,” Aidan says, climbing off the bed.
“I am hungry, and I did forget,” I say.
“I know,” he replies and disappears, naked down the hallway, favouring his side, even though he thinks we aren’t noticing it.
Ethan stays on the bed, his fingers lingering on my hip after he sets the flannel aside.
Callan is still a presence at my side, though he isn’t touching me now.
The silence of the room feels heavy, but it isn’t the suffocating kind that usually follows my grief.
It is thick with the scent of sex and the reality of what I have to do tomorrow.
“You’re thinking about it,” Callan says.
I don’t look at him. “Hard not to.”
“Even if you’re the only one he sees, you’re never alone,” Ethan says.
“I know.” I look down at my stomach, at the black ink that marks me as theirs. It feels like an anchor. If Bennett tries to pull me into the dark, I have three reasons to find my way back.
Aidan returns a few minutes later, still naked, carrying a tray with water and some toast. He sets it on the bed and hands me my supplements. “Eat. Then sleep. If you’re going to play the hero tomorrow, you need to not look like you’ve been up all night getting fucked into the mattress.”
“Even if I have?” I ask, taking a bite of the toast.
“Especially if you have,” Ethan mutters, his eyes dark.
I eat in silence, surrounded by the three men who have rewritten the rules of my life. Tomorrow is coming, and with it, the truth about my mother. But tonight, I am just a woman in a bed with her monsters.