31. Phoenix
Phoenix
“Kitten,” Atticus says, setting his computer on a side table. “We need to talk. Sit right there. Hands flat on the table. Do not move.”
“What?”
“Now.”
His barked command slices through the air, and Storm helps me sit up. He leaves me in the chair alone, and I instantly miss the warmth of his body. I flatten my palms on the tabletop and wait.
“If you move, I’ll know,” Atticus warns, his voice dark and final. The others file out of the room one by one, leaving me alone with nothing but silence and my racing thoughts .
They’re gone for maybe ten minutes, though it feels like hours. My gaze keeps drifting toward the doorway that leads out of the suite. I wonder if running is actually an option.
It’s not.
The thought tempts me only for a few seconds, but I can still see the men who were waiting outside the resort. They weren’t working alone. There could be more. And even if they don’t find me, the Titans will.
At this point, it might be better to just give in—let them decide my fate.
When the door opens, they come back in together, a wall of heat and power. Storm moves behind me, his hands gripping the back of my chair as he pulls it away from the table. Maverick stands to my left. Atticus to my right. And Con positions himself directly in front of me.
“You’ve been a very bad girl,” Atticus begins, tone clipped, “but we’ve agreed some of the circumstances may have been out of your control.”
Con’s jaw tightens, and Storm’s grip on the chair doesn’t loosen .
“If you want to stay here,” Atticus continues, “we’ll give you the chance. But you will be punished first. Do you accept?”
“What’s the punishment?” My fingers tighten around the arms of the chair until my knuckles turn white.
“You don’t get to know the punishment,” Atticus replies coldly. “Yes or no. No questions. No second chances. If the answer is no, you’re out. You lose the money. You lose our protection. You deal with the mob alone.”
“And if I say yes?”
“Then you take your punishment,” he says, eyes narrowing. “And we let it go. We start fresh.”
There’s an edge to his voice that tells me the last part isn’t just for me—it’s for Con, too.
I look up at each of them. Their eyes are hard. Unyielding. Even Storm won’t meet my gaze.
“Tick-tock, princess,” Con growls.
Fuck it. What can they possibly do to me that’s worse than what the mob will?
“Yes. ”
Maverick moves to the table and clears it with a single swipe of his arm. Plates, bowls, and glasses crash to the floor, some shattering.
Storm grips my shoulders and lifts me to my feet. He rips the robe from my body and pushes me onto the polished surface of the table, the cold wood biting against my skin.
“Your safe word is Titan ,” Atticus says, his voice measured. “Say it, and everything stops. But you won’t be forgiven. You’ll be out. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“Good. Who’s first?”
“I am,” Maverick says. “I’m the one who had to spill blood for her lies.”
He wastes no time. He grabs my ankles and flips me onto my stomach, the movement so quick my body lifts from the table. His hand slams down on my ass, and I cry out—more from shock than pain.
“Later, when Atticus gets his turn, he’s going to want you silent. I don’t.” Maverick leans in close. “I want to hear every sound I pull from your body. Understood? ”
“Yes.”
His hand comes down again, harder.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
I feel something wet against the stinging skin of my ass, then something hard and cold pressing against it.
“I’m going to fuck this ass tonight. Maybe every night until your contract ends. But first, I’m going to stretch you. This is a plug. If it falls out, we start over.”
My breath catches as he pushes the plug inside me. The stretch burns, pressure mounting as my body resists, then yields. It’s painful. Intense. But a small part of me likes it—reminds me of when Con fingered me there, how wrong it felt to like it. How much I did anyway.
The burn crests, then fades into fullness.
Maverick moves to the head of the table, unzips his fly, and pulls out his cock .
“Open your mouth,” he demands.
I obey, tongue out, ready to suck. But he doesn’t let me. His hand fists my hair, yanking my head up as he thrusts deep into my throat. I gag, choking and flailing.
He holds me there, no mercy.
When I slap the table, he pulls back just long enough for me to breathe before he’s inside again.
“Stop squirming,” he snaps. “The more you move, the less air you get. You need to learn something. When you’re naked in these suites, we own you. We are not just your employers—we are your gods. We choose what you wear. What you eat. What you do. When you breathe. Understand?”
He rips free, and I gasp.
“Yes, sir.”
He lets me breathe for a few more seconds, then slides back in. My head dangles over the table, and all I can feel is the relentless fullness in both ends and the intensity of their gaze.
And it hits me—how seen I am. How watched. How desired .
Someone’s hands run up my thighs, spreading me wider. Fingers trail from my pussy to my ass, tapping the plug, then move to my clit.
“I don’t know if this counts as punishment,” Atticus mutters. “She’s already dripping. I think she likes it.”
A sharp slap lands directly on my clit, and I jolt.
“Don’t worry, Kitten,” he adds with a laugh. “When it’s my turn, you’ll get plenty more.”
Maverick withdraws, letting me breathe. He rests his cock against my lips.
“We’re adding a little twist, firebird,” he says. “I control your breath. You control your orgasm. If you come, you lose. If you don’t—maybe we keep you.”
Before I can react, he’s in my throat again.
Then I hear it—a soft mechanical buzz .
“Con thinks you took the contract under false pretenses,” Maverick continues, his voice dark with amusement. “We don’t need a girl who’s not sensitive. We’re going to fix that. ”
The vibrator touches the inside of my knee, trailing upward, teasing.
It’s sweet torture.
When it reaches the top of my thigh, it disappears, only to start again on the other leg.
The anticipation is agony.
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t stop the way my body reacts.
Maverick pulls out and lets me get a few deep breaths in before sliding his cock back into my mouth. This time, I decide to embrace it instead of fighting or just accepting it. Keeping my hands flush on the table, I massage the tip of his cock with my tongue, cheeks hollowing as I suck him deeper.
“Fuck,” Maverick says, and I feel him bend over a little bit, his hand now next to mine on the table. “Even with me all the way down her throat, she’s still managing to suck. Guys, we need to make this work. I don’t want to let this one go.”
“If she earns her place, then she’ll stay,” Con says—or at least, I think it’s Con. My head is spinning .
It’s spinning from more than just oxygen deprivation. It’s the adrenaline, the fear, the need to prove myself in the sickest, most exhilarating game I’ve ever played.
The vibrator moves from the top of my thigh straight to my clit, and my entire body jumps. The pressure builds in my core as whoever holds the toy draws small circles over my clit, then touches it to the plug they’ve left in my ass.
The contact makes my back arch. It’s too much—too sharp and electric—but not enough to make me stop. I don’t want it to stop.
Feeling the plug vibrate deep inside me is incredible. It feels like every piece of me is humming—like I’m wired to a live current pulsing through me. Then it moves back to my clit, and I’m back to the edge—that maddening, aching edge where the orgasm trembles just out of reach.
I don’t know if it’s because my head is spinning or because I genuinely like feeling all of their attention on me—or the evil little vibrator—or even the way my ass is being stretched, but I feel euphoric.
I feel wanted. Like I’m finally the center of something that doesn’t want to break me just to leave me behind.
Like I belong. Right here. On my knees, on this table, in their hands.
“She’s holding on surprisingly well,” Atticus says with a tsking sound in his voice, like he’s just a little disappointed.
Of course he is. He’s the one who sets expectations too high just to savor the moment someone fails.
I will not fail. I can’t.
“You’ll have your turn,” Maverick says, hips rocking as he fucks my throat.
“I think you’re going too easy on her,” someone says.
“Then break her. She’s not allowed to come or let the plug fall out. You don’t want her here? Then make her lose.”
No. I can’t lose. I won’t.
I’ve already lost too much in my life. This? This I can control. This I can win .
The vibrator is suddenly gone. And Maverick pulls away—no, that’s not right. He isn’t pulling away from me. Someone shoved him.
Suddenly, Atticus clamps my shoulders and turns me so I’m stretched out along the table on my back—head toward him, feet toward Con.
Con plants himself at my ankles; Atticus stays by my head.
Atticus captures my wrists above me. Con hooks my hips.
On a silent cue they move as one, levering and pivoting me until I’m flipped onto my stomach, my chest hitting the cold hardwood.
The breath leaves my lungs with the impact. My cheek is pressed to the table. My fingers curl instinctively over the edge. I can’t see them now; I can only feel, every inch of me lit with nerves.
“What is your safe word?” Atticus asks.
I clamp my mouth shut and shake my head.
“You need to answer me,” he says, lacing his fingers into my hair and forcing my head up so I’m looking into his eyes. “Answering me when I ask what your safe word is does not constitute using your safe word. I just need to know that you remember what it is. ”
“Titan,” I answer, heart racing.
“Good girl,” Atticus says before slamming his lips down on mine.
His kiss is hot, unyielding, and consuming. It’s less of a kiss than it is a brand, like he’s carving his name into my mouth, branding me with want and punishment all in one.