Chapter 12
12
F ear—it wraps around my throat, feeding the panic clawing at my ribs. Every gasp of breath, uneven and shallow, is a desperate plea for air. And the silence…it feels eternal.
I’m alone.
Or I thought I was.
Until the first glow flickers to life.
Red.
Then blue.
Then, finally, orange.
Their presence ignites the space, halos of neon light carving out the shapes that form their exaggerated expressions. They sit sprawled in ornate chairs—thrones, really—without a care in the world. The sight of them makes it easier to breathe, which can’t possibly be the appropriate response.
They look like kings, lording over the subjects of their court. A lethal grace radiates from the edges of their posture. Their presence hums with restrained violence, a coiled energy just beneath the surface—predators who know exactly when to strike.
I lean against the wall in relief and close my eyes, trying to slow my breathing. I need to tell them about the ghosts. Have they seen them? They must’ve seen?—
“Well, look who finally decided to join us. You’ve kept us waiting, Celest.” Beckett’s sharp voice slices through my thoughts. He leans forward, forearms resting on his thighs, eyes locked on me. “Now, get on your hands and knees—and crawl to me.”
I freeze.
My mouth opens, but nothing more than a squeak escapes. At first, I think I must’ve misheard him.
Crawl?
The command slithers through me, a strange and unwelcome heat curling in my belly before I shove it down with indignation. He can’t be serious.
“I—wait—but there’s—” I stammer, my voice shaking under the weight of everything I just saw. “You don’t understand—I—there are ghosts out there.” The words tumble from my lips, frantic and raw, faster than I can filter them. “I saw them. They—they were following me. One even raised a hammer at me!”
Whit tips his head, the blue glow of his mask catching the light from the others. I can’t see his expression—but I don’t need to. I can hear the smirk in his voice. “Oh, princess, does it look like we give a fuck about some ghosts you think you saw?”
Do they think I’m making this up? Frustration flares, burning through my fear. “I did see them! They chased me through?—”
Thunk.
A blade buries itself in the wooden wall beside me. I jerk, a yelp escaping before I can choke it back. My heart slams against my ribs as my gaze snaps to the knife lodged just inches from my head. I cross my arms and hug myself, regretting leaving my comforter behind. I thought after last night I wouldn’t need it anymore.
Apparently I was wrong.
Quinn hums, the sound light and playful, mocking my fear. “Beckett gave you an order. Why aren’t you crawling?” He tosses another knife in the air, catching it as he watches me, the blade glinting as it spins.
My breath shakes out. “I—I just—” I swallow, trying to make sense of the moment, trying to bridge the surreal horror of the ghosts with the threat humming in the air around them. My mind can’t decide what the bigger danger is—them or the ghosts. Not that I can go back into the hall either way.
Thunk.
This one grazes so close that I feel it move my hair—the violent thud of it burying into the wall echoes in my skull.
I cry out, my arms snapping up in surrender. “Okay! Okay!” I watch as Quinn pulls out another knife, casually tossing this one as well. “Please, Quinn—please, don’t,” I plead.
Silence stretches a second too long before Beckett exhales slowly, like he’s already weary of my defiance. “Then, crawl.”
I hesitate for only a breath longer before lowering myself to my hands and knees, my palms pressing against the cold floor. Humiliation burns my skin as I start forward, moving stiffly, mechanically—the space between us shrinking with each inch I close.
“Slower,” Beckett growls.
I whimper, forcing myself to obey, each movement making my pulse thunder in my ears. By the time I reach him, my body is trembling, but I don’t know if it’s from fear, exhaustion, or something else I refuse to name.
Beckett leans forward, reaching out, and his fingers slip into my hair. He strokes gently, almost affectionately, before gripping my strands and tilting my head back to look at him. “Good girl.”
The darkness inside me preens from his praise. She wants to do whatever it takes to hear it again.
“You see, Celest, we think we’ve made you wait long enough. However, to get what you so desperately want from us, you’re going to have to earn it. Do you understand?” Beckett’s other hand skims the side of my face before gripping my throat. I can’t find my voice to respond, so I shake my head.
He stands up, pulling my hair to get me to sit up on my knees before he unbuckles his belt and undoes his pants. “Reach in and pull my cock out.” I hesitate, glancing up at his glowing red face.
“Do as you’re told, Celest.” With trembling hands, I obey, and the darkness purrs with satisfaction as he praises me again. “Good girl, now open your mouth and stick out your tongue—that’s it.”
I gag the moment he hits the back of my throat. He uses the grip in my hair to hold me in place as he thrusts in and out of my mouth. I gasp for air each time he pulls completely out.
“Now, swallow my cock down like the good little slut you are.” His words should make me cringe and pull away, but it’s not indignation I feel coursing through me. Nor is it my good sensibilities causing me to grow wet between my legs .
He pulls away, and my face is pulled toward someone else. I look up to see a blue mask staring down at me just as Whit’s thick member forces my lips wide. I choke and gag around him, coughing up saliva each time he gives me a chance to breathe.
A new hand grabs my hair, dragging me across the floor on my bruised knees before shoving himself all the way down my throat in one seamless motion. The force makes my eyes water, and I feel warm tears tracking down my face.
“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so beautiful when you cry,” Quinn says as his thumbs brush away my tears. “You’re going to take what I give you until I’ve decided you’ve had enough. Now, take a deep breath.” I moan around him, his words making me clench, wishing there were something there for me to squeeze around.
I choke and gag with each bruising thrust, trying to focus on my breathing. The moment I’m pulled off of him, I cough as I try to choke down each breath. They pass me around so quickly that by the time I realize they’ve switched off again, I’m already being shoved onto the next one.
“Whit, how wet is our little slut?” Beckett asks.
I feel fingers slide up the inside of my thighs and brush across my damp folds, making me whimper.
“She’s fucking soaked,” Whit groans.
Hands grip my waist, pulling me to my feet while my head is held firmly in place. Fingers brush against me again and groan when the pad of one finger circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. I’ve been dying for one of them to touch me like this for the past couple of nights, and I think I might instantly combust with only a few swipes. Just before it happens, the fingers are pulled away, and I whine in protest.
“I’m going to come,” Beckett says. “You better swallow every drop, Celest.” He picks up speed, and just as I feel like I’m about to pass out, I feel something warm and salty shoot into the back of my throat. “That’s a good girl.”
Whit and Quinn stand side by side as they take turns pushing into my mouth. Quinn reaches down, grabs my hand, and wraps it around him just as Whit does the same. They use my hands to pump along the lengths of their shafts when they aren’t choking me with them.
“Open your mouth, princess, and stick out your tongue,” Whit says as he and Quinn place their tips on my tongue. I move my hands as they instructed, without their guidance, each motion making them take turns sliding across my tongue.
“You’re going to hold our come on your tongue until we tell you to swallow. Do you understand, Celest?” Quinn says, groaning.
“Fuck, I’m close,” Whit grunts. Not even three pumps of my hands later, I feel their releases coat my tongue at the same time. I have to stop myself from instinctively spitting. When they tell me to swallow, I have to choke it down; the texture is not my favorite.
“Well, would you look at that? Looks like she’s earned it. Since there’s three of us, we’ll make her come three times?” Beckett asks. They seem to have come to an unspoken agreement because then he leans down, picks me up, and sits back in his chair.
Beckett turns me so that my back rests against his chest, then reaches down, grabs under my knees with both hands, pulls my legs up and wide, exposing me to the rest of the room.
“For fucks sake, she’s made a mess out of herself. And that’s just from taking cock down her throat. Think we can get her to make a puddle?” Quinn asks with his usual amusement. I feel my face heat and try to close my legs.
“Uh-uh, don’t you try to fucking hide this cunt away from us,” Whit says as he slaps the insides of both thighs before his fingers slowly sweep through my folds. I scream when he pinches my sensitive nub and an electric jolt shoots through me. “She’s so responsive.”
Quinn slaps my core a few times, hitting the pulsing nerves in quick succession. I cry and try to scoot away from him, but Beckett’s hold keeps me in place. Quinn’s fingers blur as he rapidly swipes across my still stinging center, and before I can even process it, I’m climbing too quickly to the very peak of the cliff’s edge. He smacks me once more, and I explode.
All I can hear is the ringing in my ears. I know my mouth is open in a scream, but I can’t tell if any sound is escaping. Before I can even process why, I’m begging for it to stop while Quinn continues, viciously sliding his fingers across me, refusing to let me come down.
“There’s one!” Quinn laughs, and for a moment, a trickle of doubt weaves its way in—Is he laughing at me?
Then Whit’s finger slides easily into my slick entrance. “How about another?” he asks, sliding a second one in beside the first. He curls his fingers, tapping them against my front wall, and I moan something incoherent that makes him laugh.
His fingers pump in and out of me hard and fast. The sound of his hand slapping against my wet center is embarrassing, but I’m too far gone to react. Tension coils tight inside me, and I know it’s about to snap and send me soaring any second.
“Hear how drenched you are?” Beckett growls into my ear. “Your pussy loves every sloppy second of this. You’re going to come again, and then we’ll make you do it once more.” I shake my head. I don’t think I can handle twice more.
“Yes, Celest. Your pleasure belongs to us, and you’ll take whatever we decide to give you.” I cry out and feel my eyes roll back. “Come now.”
I do.
I swear my heart might’ve stopped beating. My senses are slow to return, but when they do, I’m immediately overwhelmed.
“No—no more. Please,” I beg.
“What did I tell you, Celest? You don’t get to tell us no. We’ll make you come as many times as we want, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Shit, I think we can get her to squirt,” Quinn says. He brings his fingers back to my beyond sensitive core, sliding his fingers across me while Whit never stops pumping his fingers in and out.
“Add a third, Whit,” Beckett demands. The third finger slides in, and the stretch is almost painful. Neither of them slows their pace as they work together to bring me to one last dive into oblivion.
“Are you going to squirt for us, little thief?” Beckett asks, his voice low and thick with desire. I’m not sure what he means, but there’s something new building inside me—something that makes me feel like I can’t let it go. “Don’t fight it. I see you trying to hold back from us. Let it go, Celest.”
“No, I can’t,” I beg them. “Please, I-I—oh, God!” I scream, feeling my whole body shake as that pressure builds even more. It’s like a dam is about to burst, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
“Yes, Celest. You can and you will. There’s no God here to save you. Come—Now!” Beckett’s growled demand sends me over the edge, and I lose the battle against whatever I was trying to hold back. A rush of warmth spreads between my legs.
“Told you she could squirt,” Quinn says, sounding pleased with himself. I’m aware they’re talking, but only peripherally.
I think they broke me.
I can’t move a single muscle, and thought is beyond my capabilities. I feel myself being lifted and carried, but I have no way of knowing or asking where. I know everything about this night should feel wrong, yet it doesn’t. The last thing I recall before everything goes black is the darkness within, giving me a wicked grin—looking very pleased with herself.
And I think I might agree.