Here Lies a Saint (Here Lies #2) - C.L. Matthews Page 0,21

fingers up her slit, spreading her wide, and devour her until she screams.

When she’s done and my mouth tastes like a shared buffet, I make her come again and again. By the time she's crying from overstimulation, only then do I tower over her and force all of our shared releases in her mouth.

Like the greedy slut she is, she takes it and doesn't stop until I force her to.

Maybe jealousy isn't as useless as I thought.

Chapter Seven

Colt

As soon as Lux leaves, all the air escapes me.

Why didn't they stop him?

Did they want him to touch me? Shame me? Fuck me? The questions barrage themselves in my head, and the overwhelming need to scream at what I've allowed to happen clogs my throat. They let him touch me... in front of them, no less.

What the fuck.

The looks they shared... It's obvious they know each other, which means them meeting me in Tennessee, our immediate connection, and easy-going relationship was a lie.

Is a lie.

Several things go through my head now:

One, I'd need to keep the facade, keep them interested. Somehow, they're tied in.

Two, all the guys, each one of the seven, are going to fucking kneel for me once this entire thing is finished.

Three, they let Lux have me. They're not trustworthy. They didn't even ask me if it's what I wanted. Yes, I have a safe word. Yes, I felt safe, but this entire fuck-fest wasn't expected.

Four, find the files Yang hid.

Five, find out what Mel is hiding. If the twins know the Arcadia kids, she must too.

Six, trust no one.

First thing's first, dig in, dive deep, and fuck them up from the inside out.

They'll all regret lying to me.

Hurting Cass.

Ruining my life.

My heart is mine. The emotional softness still stands. They think I'm naive and easy. There’s something they've already forgotten. I’ve always held the cards.

Deep breaths.

One.

Two.

Inhale.

Exhale.

I really need to shower off the depravity, but it can wait. What bothers me most is that the guys haven't said anything. Do they really not give a fuck?

Adjusting myself, I make sure I'm staring at them both. Justice seems relaxed but a little bothered. Pru, on the other hand, looks like he's ready to destroy the entire universe. He's the first to move. His hand snakes out and grabs the back of my neck. I'm forced to accommodate so he's not overly craning my neck.

His lips touch mine. It's immensely gentle, to the point I'm wondering if the feeling of his lips against mine are a figment of my imagination.

"I'm sorry," he mutters dejectedly. The remorse in his voice is clear and unwavering. "So fucking sorry."

It throws me off. Why is he apologetic when he didn't fucking say a thing?

"Why?" My one word holds so much force that I'm shaken by its impact.

Pru shudders a bit, his face placating. When he doesn't move to answer me, I peer at Just. He's unreadable. It's unlike him. He's always so protective and possessive. The past twenty-four hours make zero sense to me.

"We have rules, sweetheart," he barely explains with a sigh.

I can't tell if the sigh is simply him being annoyed with the question or it's really that bad of rules.

"And? That's not an answer, Justice. It's a copout."

His intense ruddy eyes meet mine. They're filled with the normal aggressive emotions he carts around for me. Proprietorial. Watchful. Urgency.

"Yeah, Justice. Fucking tell her. Explain to her how we let someone we hate fuck her right in front of us," Pru practically yells.

It's a side of him I've never witnessed, but it's there, the anger, the betrayal, the defeat. Rage and resentment bubble to the forefront of Pru’s face. His gaze collides with mine as I rotate toward him. He's bitter, obvious in the way his nostrils are flaring and how his brows scrunch. His grimace burns his face like a day spent in the sun without sunblock.

"Shut the fuck up, Prudence," he hisses.

I'm taken aback at the venom in his tone. Animosity isn't a trait I've witnessed firsthand from them. Seeing the twins, who are always in sync, off-balanced is upsetting to say the least.

"No," Pru argues, adjusting to where he's leaning toward his brother. "You let that fuck touch what's mine."

His loathing tone has me shivering, but I can't help but to watch as they spiral.

"Ours," Just corrects.

Pru won't have it. He stands, grabbing his boxers and jeans and pulling them up swiftly.

"No, brother. You lost that right when you decided for the both of us," Pru bites out. He grabs his