Page 48 of Forged By Shadows
Between her slender curves and his defined abs, I become frenzied just watching, and I know my own release is coming. Unlike our friends, who are watching every moment from a distance, desiring what we have. The power we wield over the enigma between us. I don’t know where the fuck Avery came from, but damn if I don’t regret the years I sat listening to Wyatt’s bitching rather than meeting her. The years we all suffered. Sure, Avery couldn’t have prevented the torment we’ve been through, but her light could have brightened our days.
Taking myself out of my boxers and reaching out for Avery’s chin, I open her mouth and slide my cock all the way inside. The acceptance of her warm throat draws a long groan from me. Her tongue flattens, allowing me all the way inside where I still. She bucks but I hold myself there for a moment longer. A simple reminder that her pleasure, pain and life are currently held in my grasp. It’s the ultimate submission. Accepting her fate, Avery goes limp and I smile, pulling back. She chokes in a breath, which turns into a moan when Axel slams back into her.
Allowing her to recover, I tap my dick against her mouth. Avery opens immediately, taking her turn to punish me. She sucks hard, swirling her tongue around my tip and deep throating me in turn. I shudder, clawing at her hair. When Axel slams into her gorgeous cunt, she jolts further down my shaft. I become lost in their ecstasy. Our reality slides into a fantasy where only chasing pleasure exists.
“Don’t forget, I can be whoever you want me to be, Peach.” I reassure her, holding her hair back in one fist and cupping her cheek with my other hand. I let my fingers trail south, stroking the faint bruising around her neck she’s tried to conceal. My balls draw up and tighten as I grab her throat in the exact same place and squeeze. “Is this how he held you? Is this how you wish he’d fill you?”
My words are strangled, so it’s only fitting she is too. At the sensation of my cock filling her throat, I pump faster. Thrust harder. Axel and I fuck Avery across the table and just when she screams a gargled sound and tenses against the wood, I explode into her mouth.
“Drink every drop,” I demand, riding out my pleasure. Avery is too limp to refuse, taking my cum like such a good fucking girl. Withdrawing, I stumble to the chair and drop down. My cock is painfully swollen, a deep shade of purple. Straightening my t-shirt, I watch Axel drag Avery into another orgasm in quick succession, and drowns in it with her. Their sounds fill the room, panting and moaning until he collapses over her. Instantly reaching for me, Axel pulls on my hand until I stand on shaky legs. He turns his head, licking the last drop of cum beading at my tip. I gasp and jolt, steadying myself on his shoulder.
“Cheeky.” Our movements are sluggish as I finish dressing and Axel moves away to clean himself up. I turn Avery over on the table, smirking at the wet patch coating the front of the torn leotard. Someone had fun. Removing the blindfold, her baby blue eyes squint through the markings left on her face by the mask. Her blonde hair is a mess, her lips swollen. Utterly fuckable, I think to myself and my dick jumps once again.
“You did so good,” I praise, peppering her face with kisses. “You took us so well.” Avery murmurs something, the words a mess of sounds. Something vaguely similar to, ‘Garrett, thanks for this. I needed it.’ My smile widens further and I stroke her hair. She leans into my touch, angles her body into me and my thoughts stutter over themselves. She’s perfect for Axel. Exactly what he needs. But now I’m starting to wonder…how the fuck am I going to be able to let her go?
A buzzer signals the opening of the door. Axel leaves without saying a word, and Huxley takes in his place, a fluffy robe in his hands. I smirk triumphantly.
“Sorry mate. Maybe next time.” He barely registers my presence, his attention on Avery’s slack body. She cracks an eye as he approaches.
“It’s okay. From what I’ve just seen, she’s worth the wait.” Huxley eases Avery out of her costume with care, slipping the robe along her arms. She watches him care for her, tying the cord at her middle before scooping her up into his arms. Their blond hair messes together, the clash of their blue and brown eyes meeting with adoration. I hope we look that good together. Moving towards the exit, I come to my senses and bound after them.
“Hey,” I catch Huxley’s shoulder. “How long did Wyatt stay?” His eyes are thoughtful as he contemplates answering, but when it does, it’s to Avery’s questioning gaze.
“Too long to be considered polite.”
Chapter Thirty Four
Zipping my bag closed, I sit on the bed, staring blankly at the wall. Garrett and Axel were integral in distracting me last night, but now the truth has hit me. I can’t go back home. Possibly for the entire time I’m at Waversea, Nixon seems determined for me not to return to the safety blanket I knew.
Gripping the edge of the mattress, I force back the tears. It’s as if Hughes Manor was being held in a protective bubble, just out of reach but always there. Nixon has taken a pin and burst it into pieces, taking the last of my resolve with it. I have no fallback. When the Shadowed Souls have finished having their fun with me, I’ll have nowhere to go.
A rap on my door signals it’s time to go. I shoulder my bag and slink into the hallway, forcing a false smile for those waiting. Wyatt and Huxley are deep in conversation by the elevator, Garrett and Axel are looking at me like I’m sex on legs and Dax offers to take my bag. I have no fight in me, so I let him.
We settle into the two cars; Wyatt and Garrett in the Nissan, Huxley driving the SUV with Axel up front, and Dax in the back with me. I take comfort in knowing Garrett is going to drive Wyatt crazy all day long. Otherwise, I don’t pay much attention to anything aside from the music leaking from the speakers. It’s a throwback session on the chosen radio station. It’s only when a low flying airplane briefly steals the sunlight does my foot stop tapping and I sit upright.
“Where are we?” I ask, but it’s obvious. We turn onto a tarmac strip lined with hangers and a plane landing in the distance.
“Surprise,” Huxley catches my gaze, his wide grin and chocolate eyes glinting with excitement. I narrow my eyes but it goes unseen as we enter a hanger. There’s a whole team of people waiting for us, most of them uniformed. The car doors are opened and a hand offered for me to step out. I thank the man in his forties, who then moves to the trunk for our bags.
“You chartered a private jet?” I hiss-whisper as Huxley rounds the SUV and slides an arm around my waist. I attribute his touchy-feely vibe to the missed opportunity between us last night, and leave his hand to rest on my hip.
“It’s not exactly chartering if you own it,” he says beside my ear. I gasp, my eyes turning wide. Huxley owns the jet sitting before us being checked over by a team of people? I look closer now at the man who assisted me a moment ago, noting the logo embroidered onto his purple and yellow uniform. HV. Huxley Vaughn.
Unable to formulate a response, I go through the motions of being led to the metal stairs and guided into the jet. I’m used to Nixon’s show of wealth, but somehow knowing all of this belongs to Huxley feels different. He’s so young, yet he has it all.
“Why are you even attending Waversea? You could be anywhere in the world, living the dream,” I comment whilst running my fingers lightly over the plush leather seats and polished metal accents. The interior is outfitted with first-class-style reclining chairs, a small bar stocked with all types of drinks imaginable, and even a private bedroom visible in the back.
“I suppose my dream isn’t the same as most peoples,” Huxley tilts his head in thought and then takes an aisle seat. I opt for the one beside him so I can look out of the window.
“What is it then - your dream?”
“I’ll let you know when I find it,” he replies nonchalantly, but I feel the intensity of his stare at the back of my head. When the heat of his eyes lingers for too long, I look over my shoulder and raise a brow. Huxley chuckles. “You think I’m full of shit don't you?”
All around the seats are filled across a wide table and to our left. Wyatt is quick to kick back his recliner and push a set of headphones into his ears. Up front, the cabin door is closed and the attendants give us privacy.
“No, I just...” I look around at those watching me closer than I realized. Is this some sort of test? “I don’t know what could possibly be left to want?” Thankfully, Axel is on drink duty and he slides me a can of soda. Something to busy my hands with as a blush coats my cheeks. “Obviously, you have all the money and power you could ever want. With that comes a lot of female interest. I just don’t get what Waversea holds for you.”
I also don’t get why the thought of Huxley leaving school to be a playboy bothers me. I can see it flashing before my eyes; his sandy blond hair beneath the strobe lighting of a club, a drink in one hand and two girls balanced in his lap. He could easily be the type of guy I can’t stand, and even if I don’t understand it, I’m extremely grateful he isn’t.
