25. Willow
25
WILLOW
T he next morning arrives with a quiet stillness, sunlight streaming through the windows of the safe house, casting soft golden hues across the walls. I stir reluctantly, my limbs heavy with exhaustion. The events of yesterday feel like a distant haze, though the ache in my chest is a sharp reminder that it’s all too real.
A soft knock sounds at the door, followed by Vincent’s voice. “Rise and shine, Princess. We’ve got plans.”
I groan, pulling the blanket over my head. “Plans? It’s too early for plans.”
The door creaks open, and I peek out to see Vincent leaning against the frame, arms crossed and his trademark smirk firmly in place. “I’m not above carrying you out of here,” he warns, though the amusement in his tone tells me he’d enjoy it far too much.
“Five minutes,” I mumble, rolling out of bed with a sigh. My body protests, still sore and drained, but Vincent doesn’t give me much choice.
“Come on, Princess.” He nudges me towards the bathroom.
“Wait!” I protest. “Where’s Damien?”
“Hockey practice. Now move it, beautiful.” Vincent commands, playfully smacking my ass.
By the time I shuffle downstairs, I’ve thrown on a pair of soft leggings and an oversized hoodie, my hair in a messy bun. It’s the kind of outfit that screams comfort and minimal effort. I’m too tired to care, especially when Vincent flashes me an approving look.
“Nice and cozy,” he teases, grabbing my wrist to steer me toward the front door.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice still groggy as he ushers me outside.
Vincent opens the passenger door with an exaggerated flourish, his smirk as sharp and confident as ever. “Taking you shopping, Princess. Can’t have you going to prom without a dress, now can we?”
I freeze, halfway into the car, my head tilting as his words register. “Prom?”
Leaning against the car, Cast looks like he’s stepped out of a magazine ad, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. He crosses his arms, the leather of his jacket creaking softly. “You didn’t think we’d forget, did you? Prom’s in two days.”
For a moment, I just stand there, staring at them. The nonchalance in their tones is almost infuriating, as if this is all perfectly normal. Prom? In two days? The idea seems so out of place, so impossibly… normal, in the chaos that has become my life.
“You… remembered?” My voice is quieter than I intend, a mix of surprise and something warmer, something softer.
“Of course we did,” Vincent says, leaning against the open car door with a grin. “You think we’d let you miss a chance to be the center of attention? Not a chance, Princess.”
A genuine smile tugs at my lips, unbidden but welcome. Excitement flickers in my chest, spreading quickly. I’ve missed this feeling—something as simple and sweet as the thought of getting dressed up, going out, and pretending for one night that things aren’t so complicated.
“Okay,” I say, climbing into the car, my excitement bubbling over. “But there’s one condition.”
Vincent raises a brow, his smirk faltering for half a second. “A condition? Let’s hear it.”
“I’m getting dressed at my house. I need at least some sense of normalcy,” I say firmly, folding my arms over my chest to emphasize my point.
Cast tilts his head, his grin taking on a mischievous edge. “Your house? Without supervision? Not a chance, Carina.”
“Supervision?” I scoff. “What do you think I’m going to do—run away? In heels?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Vincent interjects smoothly, leaning against the doorframe now. “Ricardo stays with you, or it’s not happening.”
My excitement dims slightly at the thought of Ricardo hovering around, but I can’t exactly blame them. I’ve gotten used to their overprotectiveness, even if it grates on my nerves sometimes.
“Fine,” I say with an exaggerated sigh, knowing this is as much of a compromise as I’m going to get. “Ricardo can stay. But he’s not allowed to comment on my outfit.”
“Deal,” Vincent says, and Cast chuckles, shaking his head as if this entire exchange is a game he’s already won.
As Vincent shuts the car door behind me and slides into the driver’s seat, I feel a flicker of something rare and precious.
It’s not just the excitement of prom or the thought of wearing a beautiful dress.
It’s the way they look at me, the way they go out of their way to give me pieces of normalcy when the rest of my life feels anything but.
It’s almost enough to make me forget the weight of RISD and the secret I’m carrying.
Almost.
____________________
The boutique they bring me to is straight out of a dream—floor-to-ceiling mirrors, racks upon racks of gowns in every color imaginable, and the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air. It’s overwhelming in the best way.
“Pick whatever you want,” Vincent says, his tone casual, like we’re talking about grabbing a coffee and not shopping for a prom dress.
“No budget,” Cast adds with a widening grin. “And no excuses. We’re here until you find the perfect one.”
I blink at them, unsure how to respond. “This is too much.”
Vincent arches a brow. “Too much is kind of our thing. Now, go.”
Despite my hesitation, I’m drawn to the racks, fingers grazing the soft fabrics as I take in the endless options. Vincent and Cast are surprisingly patient, lounging on one of the plush couches while I disappear into the dressing room with an armful of gowns.
The first dress is a soft blush pink with a flowing skirt, but it doesn’t feel quite right. The second is a bold red, dramatic and eye-catching, but not me. By the time I try on the fifth dress, frustration starts to creep in.
“This is hopeless,” I mutter, stepping out of the dressing room in a simple navy gown. “Maybe I should just skip prom.”
Vincent stands, shaking his head. “Not an option.” He gestures toward the racks. “We’ll keep looking.”
“Try this,” Cast says, appearing beside me with a dress in hand. It’s different from the others I’ve chosen—a deep emerald green with intricate beading along the bodice and a skirt that shimmers faintly in the light.
I hesitate but take it from him, retreating to the dressing room once more. As I slip into the dress, the luxurious fabric hugs my body perfectly. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I can’t help but pause. The color brings out the warmth in my skin, and the delicate beading glitters faintly with every move.
Before I can step out to show them, the door opens behind me. I turn, startled, to see Vincent slipping inside the small space.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
Vincent’s smirk is firmly in place, but his gaze sweeps over me, darkening. “Couldn’t wait,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “Wanted to see you first.”
Heat floods my cheeks as his eyes travel the length of the dress, lingering where the fabric clings to my curves. His hand lifts, knuckles brushing lightly over my shoulder. “You’re stunning, Willow. Absolutely breathtaking.”
I swallow hard, my heart racing at the intensity in his eyes. “Vincent, this isn’t?—”
He cuts me off, his fingers tilting my chin upward. “Relax, Princess. Just admiring the view.”
Before I can respond, the door opens again, and Cast steps in. His green eyes narrow as he takes in the scene. “Am I interrupting?”
Vincent doesn’t move, his hand still resting lightly on my chin. “Not at all,” he says smoothly, his tone laced with challenge.
Cast’s gaze flicks to me, softening briefly before he turns his attention back to Vincent. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Not when she looks like this,” Vincent replies, his smirk deepening.
Cast lets out a low chuckle, stepping closer. “I guess I can’t blame you.” His eyes lock on mine, his voice dropping as he adds, “But next time, you might want to save some room for me.”
The air in the small space grows heavy, charged with unspoken tension. My breath hitches as Cast reaches out, his fingers brushing mine.
“You two are ridiculous,” I say, trying to laugh it off, but my voice comes out shaky. My heart pounds as Cast takes another step closer, crowding me against the wall. His hands rest on either side of my head, caging me in.
“Ridiculous, huh?” he repeats, his lips curling into a slow, dangerous smile. His gaze drops to my mouth, and I swear I can feel the heat of it like a physical touch. “Funny, because I don’t think you’re laughing.”
My pulse hammers in my ears as Vincent moves in from the other side, his body brushing against mine. The stall isn’t small, but it seems too small for three people, and the proximity is overwhelming. I can feel the heat radiating off both of them, their scents mingling—Cast’s earthy musk, Vincent’s crisp cologne. It is intoxicating.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, though I already know. The question was more for myself, a feeble attempt to hold onto some semblance of control.
Vincent chuckles softly, his breath warm against my neck as he leans in. “Isn’t it obvious?” he murmurs, his lips grazing the sensitive skin below my ear. I gasp, my hands instinctively reaching out to grip the fabric of his shirt.
Cast tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Tell us to stop,” he says, his voice rough but soft, almost pleading. “If you want us to stop, say it now.”
But I can’t. The words won’t come, even as my mind screams at me to think, to breathe . Instead, I find myself nodding, my body betraying me as I lean into Cast’s touch. Vincent shrugs off his jacket, smirking.
He lets out a low groan, his lips crashing into mine in a searing kiss that steals my breath. His tongue sliding against mine, possessive and demanding, and I melt into him, my hands tangling in his hair. The taste of him is electric, lighting up every nerve in my body.
Vincent’s hands skim over my waist, pulling me back against him. His lips trail down my neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “God, you’re beautiful,” he mutters, his voice husky with desire. His hands slip under the hem of my dress, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of my thighs.
I moan into Cast’s mouth, the sound muffled, but desperate. My body feels like it’s on fire, every touch sending shockwave after shockwave. Cast breaks the kiss, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stares down at me, his eyes blazing.
“Turn around,” he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.
I hesitate for a fraction of a second before obeying, my back now pressed against Cast’s chest. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as Vincent kneels in front of me.
“Look at you,” Vincent breathes, his fingers tracing the edge of my panties. My face burns, but I can’t look away. His gaze is intense, drinking me in like I am the only thing that matters in the world.
Cast’s lips find my neck again, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as his hands move higher, cupping my breasts through the fabric of my dress. “Do you have any idea what you do to us?” he growls, his voice vibrating against my skin.
Before I can respond, Cast lifts my dress up and pulls my panties off, exposing me completely. His hot breath fans over me and I shudder, my knees buckling. He holds me upright, his strong arms wrapping around me as Vincent leans in, his tongue flicking against my clit.
A strangled cry escapes my lips as pleasure explodes through me, sharp and unrelenting. Vincent’s mouth works magic, each stroke of his tongue sending me spiraling higher. Cast’s hands roam over my body, tugging at the straps of my dress until it pools at my feet, leaving me bare except for my heels.
“Fuck, Willow,” Vincent groans, his mouth wrapping around my swollen bud. “You’re so damn perfect.”
I can barely form a coherent thought, my mind is consumed by the sensations overwhelming me. Cast’s fingers join Vincent’s tongue, playing with my clit, his movements perfectly in sync with the rhythm with Vincent’s mouth as he tongue fucks me.
“More,” I beg, my voice trembling. “Please, I need?—”
I don’t get to finish the sentence before Cast roughly smacks my ass. He presses his hard cock against me.
Vincent’s hands slide up my hips as he kisses up the curve of my body. “Tell us what you want,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl that makes my stomach flip as he towers over me.
I don’t have to think. “Both of you,” I gasp, my nails digging into Vincent’s shoulders. “I want both of you.”
Vincent’s eyes darken, his grip on me tightening. “You sure?” he asks, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip.
I nod frantically, my body trembling with need. “Yes,” I whisper. “Please.”
My back is pressed against Cast’s chest and cocooned in by the heat radiating from Vincent’s body as he leans into me, his lips trailing slow, deliberate kisses along my neck. His hands are everywhere—gripping, caressing, possessive yet tender. Behind me, Cast’s breath hitches as his fingers tease my slick entrance, circling, teasing, promising.
Vincent’s eyes darken, his grip tightening on my hips as if he wants to imprint himself on me. “You sure?” he asks again, his tone laced with restraint, giving me one last out if I need it. But I don’t. I want this. I want them.
“Yes,” I whisper, barely audible over the pounding of my heart. “Please.”
His lips crash into mine, hard and demanding, swallowing my moan as Cast’s fingers finally press against my ass, using my wetness to press inside me, stretching me open with slow, deliberate precision. I groan into Vincent’s mouth, arching my back as the dual sensations overwhelm me. One hand slides up to cup my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple until it pebbles under his touch. The other stays firmly anchored on my hip, holding me steady as Cast works me open behind him.
I feel full already, but it isn’t enough. I need more. Need them closer, deeper, harder.
Cast’s free hand grips my waist, his breath hot against my ear as he leans in. “You’re taking me so well, Willow,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with approval that sends a fresh wave of heat pooling between my legs.
Vincent’s hands move to the button of his jeans, his eyes never leaving mine. “You don’t have to ask twice,” he says, his voice rough with desire.
“Ready, Princess?” Vincent asks, his fingers trailing up my inner thigh, wrapping my leg around his waist as Cast arches my back into Vincent’s chest.
I nod frantically, unable to form words as Vincent pulls back just enough to let me catch my breath. His gaze flickers down to where Cast’s fingers are buried inside me, and a wicked grin spreads across his face. “Looks like she is,” he says, his voice thick with arousal. Behind me, Cast’s fingers withdraw, leaving my pussy achingly empty for just a moment before I feel the blunt pressure of his finger pressing against my other entrance.
I tense instinctively, but his other hand is on me instantly, soothing and firm. “Relax for me, Willow,” he coaxes, his voice calm and steady despite the urgency in his touch. “Just breathe.”
Vincent steps back slightly, his hands sliding down to the curve of my hips as he positions himself between my thighs. The head of his cock brushes against me, slick and warm, and I whimper at the contact. He pauses, his eyes locking with mine as if searching for any hesitation. There is none. Only hunger.
He thrusts into me slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until he’s fully sheathed inside me. The stretch burns deliciously, making me gasp and dig my nails into his arms. “Fuck,” I breathe, my head falling back against the wall as hebegins to move, each thrust driving me closer to the edge.
I do as he says, forcing myself to exhale as he pushes forward, slow and careful, until his fingers are seated deep inside me too. The sensation is overwhelming—too much and not enough all at once. My body stretches to accommodate them both, every nerve alight with pleasure-pain that makes my toes curl.
Cast adds another finger, whispering in my ear. “I am going to fuck you right here, Carina.”
“Ah, now?” I moan, pushing against him, wanting him deeper inside of me.
“No no, but soon when it’s just you and me.” Cast’s voice rasps in my ear as he adds a third finger, and I buck at the spread.
Vincent growls low in his throat, his hips snapping forward as he claims my mouth again. His kiss is possessive, desperate, like he is trying to brand me with his lips alone. Cast’s hands grip my hip with his free hand, his thrusts steady and measured, a counterpoint to Vincent’s rhythm. Together, they move in perfect sync, their bodies bracketing mine, overwhelming me with sensation.
My vision blurs, my mind unraveling as they take turns fucking me, stroke after relentless stroke. Vincent’s cock fills me completely, hitting a spot deep inside that makes me cry out every time he drives into me. Cast’s fingers stretch me in ways I hadn’t thought possible, the friction sending sparks shooting through me with every movement.
The knock at the stall door jerks me and my eyes flash open to Vincent’s, as Cast’s other hand slides villainously between my bottom lips.
“Excuse me, is everything alright in there?” A stern voice asks.
“Yeah,” Vincent grunts, thrusting inside of me. “Our girl just needed help out of a dress, it was too small.”
“Alright, well when she is out of the dress please exit the dressing room. It is one per person.” The voice softens and my head is pulled back so my moans are swallowed by Cast’s mouth as he kisses me. The click of her heels rings as she walks away, and I am fucking mortified.
Cast breaks the kiss, his hand that was previously on my hip, moves down to tease my clit as Vincent pounds into me relentlessly. "Fuck, you're tight," Vincent groans, his forehead pressing against mine. "I could stay like this forever."
“We have to-” I start.
“No, you just need to stand here and take this cock like a good girl,” Cast growls deliciously in my ear, his fingers working in tandem with Vincent's movements.
My eyes roll back as I whisper out a groan. “Yes, sir.”
The dual sensations are overwhelming, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. My nails rake down Vincent's back, urging him to go faster, harder. He obliges, his grip on my hips tightening as he drives into me with wild abandon.
“Fuck, you feel incredible,” Vincent mutters against my skin, his teeth grazing my collarbone as his pace quickens. “So tight, so wet for me.”
Cast’s voice is a low rumble behind me, his words punctuated by the thrust of his fingers. “She’s taking us so well, isn’t she?” he says, more to Vincent than to me. “Look at her. She can’t get enough.”
I can’t argue even if I wanted to. My body is alive, every nerve screaming for release as they push me higher and higher. My arms wrap around Vincent’s neck, desperate for something to anchor me as the pleasure builds to an unbearable crescendo.
Vincent’s pace intensifies, his thrusts deeper, harder, and I can feel every inch of him as he fills me completely. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my body trembling under the dual assault of his relentless rhythm and Cast’s expert fingers teasing my clit. The stall seems to shrink around us, the air thick with the scent of sweat and desire.
“Fuck, Willow,” Vincent groans, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. His forehead is pressed against mine, his breath hot against my skin. “You feel too good… I don’t know how much longer I can last.”
Behind me, Cast’s lips trails down my neck, his teeth grazing my shoulder before he whispers, “You’re going to come for us, aren’t you, Willow?” His words send a rocket of heat to my core, and I nod frantically, unable to form coherent words. His fingers move faster, circling my clit with precision, and I feel the coil of pleasure tightening in my core.
“That’s it,” Cast whispers, his voice soft and soothing as he helps me down from the high. “You are so good for us, Willow. So, so good.”
And then, without warning, I shatter. My orgasm rips through me, violent and consuming, drawing a scream from my lungs that’s swallowed by Vincent’s kiss. Waves of pleasure roll through me, dragging me under until I’m gasping for air, my body trembling between them.
I lean back against him, my body still trembling from the intensity of my release. But they don’t stop. They can’t. Vincent’s thrusts grow more erratic, his hands gripping me tighter as he chases his own release. Cast’s pace becomes rougher, his groans muffled against my shoulder as he finger fucks me through my climax.
“Vincent—” I choke out, my voice barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin. “I can’t—it’s too much?—”
“No, no Carina.” Cast chuckles breathlessly in my ear. “You are going to take it like a good girl.”
“But-” I mewl.
“Take it.” Vincent echoes, and I whimper, becoming limp between them, letting them use me like they want, like I need.
Vincent places another searing kiss, his hips slamming into me with a final, brutal thrust before he comes, his release flooding me with liquid heat. Behind me, Cast follows moments later, his vibrating groan leaving his lips, along with his fingers as they slip out my ass and I immediately miss the pressure.
“Fuck Carina.” He groans. “You made a mess of me.”
I look down at the wet spot forming in his jeans and groan at the sight.
“If the attendant wasn’t so fucking annoying.” Cast snarls, his green eyes an icy pale color. “I would make you clean me with your mouth.”
“Fuck,” I whisper, my clit pulsing at the thought, my mouth watering as I imagine the taste.
Cast leans forward grabbing a napkin, and I watch as he pulls his cock out, cleaning the absurd amount of cum he spilled in his pants, because of me. Pride swells in my chest as I smirk.
Vincent pinches my chin, pulling my gaze to him. “Our girl is proud.”
“She should be.” Cast praises, and I melt into them both when Vincent kisses my lips soft enough that I chase him for more. Vincent pulls out slowly, his touch uncharacteristically gentle as he steadies me.
Cast’s follows with the same care and I feel like I am going to cry with how tender they are. His hands linger on my hips, a possessive edge even in the tenderness. When his eyes meet mine, they’re dark with satisfaction—and something else I can’t quite place, something that stirs a new kind of ache in my chest.
“Beautiful,” Cast murmurs, his thumb brushing over my bare skin, and I don’t know if he’s talking about me or the moment we’ve just shared.
I push myself upright, glaring at both of them as my cheeks flush hot. “I can’t believe we just did that in the dressing room.”
Cast smirks, utterly unapologetic as he buckles his belt. “You didn’t seem to mind.”
“That’s not the point!” I snap, tugging my dress back into place, still feeling the heat of the moment burning on my skin.
Vincent leans against the wall as he buttons his pants, his movements slow and deliberate. “Relax, Princess,” he drawls, reaching for a tissue. He bends slightly, wiping carefully between my legs before discarding it in the trash bin nearby. “No one caught us. No harm, no foul.”
“No harm?” I point at the shredded dress on the floor, my glare sharp enough to cut glass. “That says otherwise.”
Cast shrugs as he steps back to inspect the rack of the dresses I was supposed to try on inside of my changing
room. “I’ll buy it. And the gold one, too. I like it.”
“You don’t even know if it fits,” I mutter, crossing my arms, my irritation bubbling beneath the surface.
“It’ll fit,” he says with maddening confidence, his green eyes raking over me like a promise. “Trust me.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Cast is already grabbing his jacket from the chair, pushing past Vincent with that smug grin still plastered on his face. Vincent follows without hesitation, pausing briefly in the doorway.
“Come out when you’re ready, Princess,” he murmurs, his voice low, the intent in his tone unmistakable.
The door closes behind them, leaving me alone in the quiet dressing room. I press a hand to my forehead, my pulse still racing. They’re impossible—absolutely impossible.
As I sink onto the little bench, my phone buzzes in my bag. Pulling it out, I see Jasmine’s message light up the screen.
Jasmine: OMG! Congrats on RISD! I’m so proud of you!
My chest tightens as I stare at the words. The excitement I felt earlier when I opened the email twists into something heavy, something close to dread. I haven’t told them. Haven’t told anyone but Jasmine, and I only told her because she got rejected last night and asked what my letter said.
Vincent. Cast. Damien. What would they say if they knew? How would they react?
I exhale shakily, leaning back against the mirror. My reflection stares back at me, flushed and raw, still caught in the aftermath of too much and not enough.
RISD is a dream I’ve fought for, the future I thought I wanted more than anything. But now, all I can think about is how much it would cost me to leave.
And the weight of it feels unbearable.