CHAPTER 2: FINGERED BEFORE THEM

EVIE'S POV

The thought lingered on my mind, like the scent of his cologne still clinging to my skin.

I pressed my fingers to my lips, tracing the swollen curve where his teeth had nipped me.

His possessiveness consumed me, tangled in the haze of endorphins and something darker, something that coiled low in my belly.

My thighs ached, the ghost of his grip still burning where his fingers had dug into my hips. I should've been horrified. I should've been running.

Instead, my body hummed, alive in a way it never had before, like a live wire sparking under my skin. Used. Ruined. And desperately, shamefully, wanting more.

I forced myself upright, wincing as the movement sent a fresh wave of soreness through me. The towel Theon had thrown at me lay crumpled on the bed.

I snatched it up, pressing it between my legs, my breath catching at the rough feel of it against my raw, oversensitive flesh.

A shiver ran through me as I caught my reflection in the mirror-hair wild, lips bruised, the lace of my corset gaping open where he'd torn it.

I looked... fucked. Thoroughly. And my eyes... they didn't look sorry.

My fingers trembled as I fumbled with the laces, trying to tie them back into some semblance of decency. It was useless.

The fabric was stretched, the eyelets torn. I gave up, yanking my skirt down, the black lace barely covering the red marks his hands had left on my thighs.

The party noise was a dull roar under the door. Laughter. Music. Life going on while mine had just been split into a before and after. I had to go back down.

I had to find Mia, pretend none of this happened. But the thought of facing that crowd, of facing him again, made my stomach twist into a tight, anxious knot.

The door creaked open before I could move.

I whirled, my heart leaping into my throat, but it was just Mia. Her catgirl ears were slightly crooked, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes widened as they landed on me.

"Holy shit, Evie," she breathed, shutting the door and leaning against it. "You look like you just got railed by a god. And from the way Theon dragged you out of here..." She grinned, a wicked, knowing thing. "Spill. Now."

My face burned. "Mia, I can't-"

"Oh, don't you dare." She crossed the room, her gaze zeroing in on the hickies on my collarbone, the torn corset. She let out a low whistle. "He marked you. That's some possessive, caveman shit." Her eyes met mine, sparkling. "I mean, he's your stepbrother but... I approve. So? How was it? Was he... you know? A selfish jerk or..."

The memory of his fingers inside me, his mouth on my skin, his voice growling filthy things in my ear-it all crashed over me.

My core clenched, empty and aching. I squeezed my thighs together.

"It was... a lot," I whispered, the understatement of the century.

Mia's grin softened. "Good a lot or bad a lot?"

I swallowed, the truth fighting its way out.

"I don't know. It was... rough. And... I liked it." The confession felt like a sin. "He's so... angry. And he just... took me. And I let him."

"Babe," Mia said, linking her arm with mine. "That's the hottest thing I've ever heard. Now, come on. You can't hide in here all night. You need to walk out of this room like the queen who just got her world rocked."

She tugged me toward the door. My legs felt like jelly. The hallway was worse, the air thick with weed and sweat.

Every brush of a passing body made me flinch. My eyes darted through the crowd, searching without my permission.

My skin felt too tight, too sensitive, humming with a desperate need for a specific, rough pair of hands.

And then I saw him. Again.

Theon.

He was back to the kitchen doorway. He wasn't looking at me, but I felt him, a magnetic pull that made my breath catch. As if he sensed my stare, his head turned.

Those ice-blue eyes locked onto mine across the room. There was no smile-just a slow, burning intensity that stripped me bare, right there in the middle of everyone.

His gaze dropped to my torn corset, to the marks on my neck he'd put there, and a dark, possessive satisfaction flickered in his eyes.

Mine, that look said. All mine.

My cheeks flamed. I quickly looked away, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"See?" Mia whispered, nudging me. "He can't keep his eyes off you. Now, let's get a drink. You look like you need one."

We pushed to the mini bar. The air was even hotter here, bodies pressed together.

I stuck close to Mia, accepting the cup she handed me, the vodka soda doing nothing to calm the frantic energy buzzing under my skin.

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. Or should I say, what Theon dragged out."

Tyler's voice was like oil sliding over my skin. He materialized beside us, his toga looking even more ridiculous up close.

His eyes, glazed with drink, roamed over my body with a slimy appreciation that made me want to shrink away.

"Heard you got a private tour of Mercer's room," he slurred, leaning in too close. His breath was sour with beer. "Guess you're not as quiet as you look. Save some for the rest of us, yeah?"

Before I could even form a response, a presence materialized behind me. Solid. Hot. Threatening.

Theon's arm snaked around my waist, pulling me back flush against his hard chest. I gasped, the contact sending a jolt straight to my core.

"Problem, Briggs?" Theon's voice was low, a quiet rumble that vibrated through me. It was a threat.

Tyler's smirk faltered. He held up his hands. "Just chatting, man. No need to get possessive."

"I'm not getting possessive," Theon said, his fingers splaying across my stomach, branding me through the lace. "I am possessive. She's mine. Touch her again, and I'll break every one of your fucking fingers. Are we clear?"

The air crackled. Tyler's face paled. He mumbled something and melted back into the crowd.

Theon didn't move. His lips found my ear, his voice a rough, private whisper that made my knees weak.

"You forget my rules already, little witch?"

"I didn't-he came up to me," I stammered, my body melting into his despite my racing mind.

"And you didn't walk away." His hand slid lower, his fingertips dipping just below the waistband of my skirt. A silent, devastating claim. "I think you need a reminder."

He turned me in his arms, his gaze burning into me. The music was a pounding, primal beat.

His hand moved to the small of my back, pressing me against him until I could feel the hard ridge of his cock through his jeans. He was already hard. Again.

"Dance with me," he commanded, and it wasn't a request.

He led me into the writhing center of the living room, his body a cage around me. His hands were on my hips, guiding my movements, his thighs pressing against the backs of mine.

We weren't just dancing; we were simulating everything we'd just done upstairs. His hard length pressed against my ass, and I arched into him, a helpless, wanton movement.

"That's it," he growled into my ear, his breath hot. "Move that sweet little ass for me. Show me what you learned."

His hand slid from my hip, under my skirt, his fingers tracing the lace edge of my ruined panties. I gasped, my head falling back against his shoulder.

"Theon... people can see," I whispered, even as my hips ground back against him.

"Let them see." His fingers hooked into the lace, tugging it aside. The cool air hit my exposed skin, followed by the searing heat of his touch as his fingers slid through my wetness. "Fuck, Evie. You're still dripping for me. Soaking wet."

A moan caught in my throat as he pushed a finger inside me, just to the first knuckle. My inner walls clenched around him, greedy. My eyes fluttered shut.

"Look," he ordered, his voice rough.

I forced my eyes open. A guy nearby was watching us, his gaze locked on where Theon's hand was hidden under my skirt. Shame warred with a shocking, depraved thrill. We were supposed to be siblings.

"He's watching me fuck you with my fingers," Theon murmured, his own finger curling inside me, making me whimper. "He's imagining what it would be like. But he can't have it. This pretty, tight little cunt is mine, isn't it?"

"Yes," I breathed, my composure shattering.

"Mine to fuck. Mine to fill." He added a second finger, stretching me, and I cried out, the sound swallowed by the music. "Now come for me. Let him watch you fall apart on my hand."

His thumb found my clit, rubbing in firm, perfect circles. His fingers pumped inside me, hitting that deep, perfect spot.

The combination of his touch, the public shame, the raw possession in his voice-it was too much. My orgasm ripped through me, violent and blinding.

I convulsed in his arms, my body milking his fingers as I shook, a silent scream on my lips.

He held me through it, his body a solid wall keeping me upright. When the last tremor faded, he slowly pulled his fingers out, glistening with my release.

He brought them to his lips, his eyes locked on mine, and sucked them clean.

"Always a delight."

Then he was pulling me again, through the crowd, up the stairs. Not to his bedroom this time, but into a bathroom. He locked the door, crowding me back against the cold sink.

His hands were on my corset, tearing it the rest of the way off. His mouth was on my breasts, sucking new bruises into my skin.

He was a man possessed, and I was his willing sacrifice.

"On your knees," he rasped, unbuckling his belt.

I sank down without hesitation, the cool tiles hard beneath my knees.

I looked up at him, at the raw hunger on his face, and felt a surge of power. This terrifying, beautiful boy was undone because of me.

His cock sprang free, thick and heavy in my hand. I leaned forward, my tongue darting out to taste the salty drop of pre-cum beading at the tip.

He groaned, his hand tangling in my hair. "That's it, baby. Open that pretty mouth."

I took him in, my lips stretching around his girth. I sucked him deep, my tongue swirling, my hand working the base. His curses were a filthy, beautiful prayer above me.

"Fuck, yes... just like that. Take it all, you greedy girl."

I lost myself in the rhythm, in the taste of him, in the sounds he made. I was his good girl, his dirty little secret, his witch.

And in this moment, on my knees in a bathroom at a party, with my stepbrother's cock down my throat, I had never felt more alive.

He was close. I could feel it in the tense of his thighs, in the way his cock pulsed against my tongue.

"I'm gonna come," he warned, his voice strangled.

I didn't pull away. I looked up, meeting his blazing blue eyes, and took him deeper.

With a guttural roar, he came, his release hot and bitter down my throat. I swallowed every drop, my own body humming with a desperate, renewed need.

When he finally softened, I pulled back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. He looked down at me, his chest heaving, his expression one of awe and pure, unadulterated lust.

He hauled me to my feet, his kiss brutal and addictive.

"You're never going to be free of me, Evie," he breathed against my lips.

And as his hands began to roam my body again, ready for round three, I knew the most terrifying part wasn't his words.

It was that I didn't want to be.

MABEL'S POV

God, I fucking hated Chase Vanderbilt.

It wasn't just the trust fund, the smug, chiseled jaw, or the way he ruled this entire campus like it was his personal kingdom.

It was the way he looked at me. Like I was a bug. A piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his two-thousand-dollar loafers.

"Problem, scholarship case?" His voice, a low drawl laced with pure venom, cut through the library silence.

I'd been trying to study for my Econ midterm, but all I could focus on was the way he was holding court at the large oak table, his frat brothers hanging on his every word.

He was the star quarterback, the golden boy, and he knew it.

I slammed my textbook shut. "The only problem here is your voice, Vanderbilt. Some of us are actually here to learn, not just to have our daddies buy a degree."

His friends snickered, but Chase's gray eyes just narrowed. A slow, predatory smile spread across his face.

He leaned forward, his voice dropping so only I could hear. "You've got a real smart mouth on you, Mabel. I wonder how it'd feel wrapped around my cock."

Heat flooded my cheeks, a traitorous flush that had nothing to do with anger.

"In your dreams," I spat, gathering my things with trembling hands.

"Every fucking night," he whispered, his gaze dropping to my lips.

That was the infuriating thing. This wasn't one-sided.

The hatred was a live wire between us, and every time we sparred, it sparked something else. Something dark and hungry and desperate.

The tension boiled over for months. It was in the way he'd "accidentally" brush against me in a crowded hallway, his hand lingering on my lower back just a second too long.

It was in the filthy, promising looks he'd shoot me across the lecture hall while the professor droned on.

I'd go back to my dorm, my panties soaked, and hate-fuck myself with my vibrator, imagining it was his mouth, his hands, his... everything.

The breaking point was the Halloween party.

I went as a sexy fairy, because fuck it, why not? He was a vampire, of course.

A ridiculously hot one in a tailored black suit and fangs. Our eyes met across the buzzing dance floor, and the air came alive.

He started toward me, a hunter on a mission. I turned and fled, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest.

I ducked into what I thought was a bathroom. It wasn't. It was a dark, cramped supply closet.

Before I could escape, the door opened and he filled the frame, backlit by the strobe lights.

"Running away, little fairy?" he purred, stepping inside and locking the door. The click of the bolt was the loudest sound I'd ever heard.

"Get out, Chase."

"Make me."

He was on me in an instant, his body caging me against a shelf of paper towels.

The smell of his cologne and expensive whiskey was intoxicating. I shoved at his chest, but it was like pushing a brick wall.

"I hate you," I breathed, even as my hips arched toward him.

"I know," he growled, his mouth crashing down on mine.

It wasn't a mere flimsy kiss. It was a battle. Teeth clashing, tongues warring. It was raw and violent and everything I'd fantasized about.

His hands ripped the wings from my costume, then tore the front of my dress, my tits spilling out into the cool air.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he snarled, pinching my nipples hard, sending jolts of sharp pleasure-pain straight to my clit.

I cried out, and he swallowed the sound, his kiss becoming even more demanding.

He spun me around, bending me over a stack of boxes. One hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back. The other hiked up my skirt, his fingers roughly shoving my thong aside.

"So fucking wet for me," he grunted, sliding two fingers inside me. "All this time, pretending you're too good for me. And your cunt is dripping."

"Shut up," I moaned, pushing back against his hand.

"Make me," he repeated, his voice darker. He pulled his fingers out, slick with my arousal, and brought them to my lips. "Taste yourself. Taste how much you want this."

I opened my mouth, sucking his fingers clean, my eyes locked on his in the dim light. The filthy act made me even wetter.

That broke him. He unbuckled his belt, the sound of his zipper echoing in the small space.

I heard him spit into his hand, and then I felt the thick, blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance.

"You ready for this, you little bitch?" he whispered in my ear, his body covering mine.

"Just fuck me, you asshole," I panted.

He drove into me in one brutal, searing thrust. I screamed, the stretch bordering on pain, but it was the most exquisite feeling I'd ever known.

He was huge, filling me completely, hitting a spot deep inside that made me see stars.

"Holy shit," he groaned, his body going still for a second. "You're so fucking tight. You're gonna milk my dick dry."

Then he started to move. It was a brutal rhythm, pure, unadulterated fucking. The shelves rattled with every thrust. His hand was still in my hair, his other hand gripping my hip so hard I knew I'd have bruises.

"You like that?" he grunted, slamming into me. "You like being my little fuck-toy?"

"Yes!" I cried, my own orgasm coiling tight, my fingers scrambling for purchase on the cardboard boxes.

"Whose dirty little cunt is this?"

"Yours!" I sobbed, the admission tearing from me.

"Damn right it is."

He reached around, his thumb finding my clit, rubbing rough, frantic circles. It was too much.

The overstimulation, the vulgar words, the sheer force of him.

My vision whited out as I came, my pussy clenching around his cock in violent, pulsing waves. I screamed his name, my body convulsing.

Feeling me come set him off. With a final, deep thrust that buried him to the hilt, he roared, his hot cum flooding my pussy in thick, endless spurts.

He collapsed over me, his sweaty chest against my back, both of us panting and wrecked in the dark.

We stayed like that for a long minute, the only sound our ragged breathing. Slowly, he pulled out, and I felt his cum start to drip down my thighs.

He turned me around, his expression unreadable. He gently wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb-a gesture so at odds with what we'd just done.

Then he smirked, that infuriating, gorgeous smirk.

"Still hate me, darling?"

I looked him dead in the eye, my body still humming, my pussy still throbbing. "More than ever."

His grin widened. "Good. My room. Tomorrow night. Eight o'clock. Don't be late."

He unlocked the door and slipped out, leaving me alone in the dark, covered in the evidence of our hatred, and already aching for more.

CHAPTER 1: THEIR SLUT

NOELLE'S POV

My transfer to State University was supposed to be about a fresh start.

What it became was a six-month-long, slow-burn porno starring me and the two most infamous brothers on campus: Rowan, the quarterback with a smirk that could melt panties, and Declan, the running back whose brooding intensity promised filthy, filthy things.

They called dibs on me that first day in the student union, not with words, but with a look.

Rowan's green eyes scanned me from head to toe like he was already deciding how he'd fuck me.

Declan just gave a slow, knowing grin, like he could smell the desperate virgin on me and couldn't wait to ruin it.

The "friendship" was a joke. We all knew it. It was a months-long foreplay session designed to drive us all insane.

The tension started building almost immediately.

About a month in, I was looking for Declan to return a textbook. Rowan told me he'd be in the locker room after practice. I pushed the heavy door open, the sound of showers echoing.

They weren't in the showers. They were right there, by the benches, toweling off, and they were completely, gloriously naked.

My brain short-circuited.

Rowan was built like a fucking god, all carved muscle and tan skin. And his cock... Jesus.

It was thick and heavy, already half-hard just from the heat of the shower, resting against his thigh. But it was Declan who made my mouth actually water.

He was leaner, but his cock was longer, a beautiful, veined piece of work that looked like it was made to hit a girl's deepest spots.

He saw me first, and instead of covering up, he just smirked and let the towel drop completely.

"See something you like, Noelle?" Rowan's voice was a low rumble.

He didn't even bother with the towel, just turned to face me fully, letting his cock swing free, getting harder by the second right in front of my eyes.

I couldn't speak. I just stared, my pussy throbbing in my jeans, so wet I was scared it would soak through.

Declan took a step closer, his gaze dark. "You're staring at my dick, sweetheart. You wanna taste it?"

I fled. But that night, alone in my dorm, I came harder than I ever had in my life, imagining both of their cocks in my hands, in my mouth, anywhere they wanted to be.

Two months in, the ache was constant.

I was in the library, hidden away in a forgotten corner of the stacks, trying to study.

But all I could think about was the way Rowan had pinned me with his eyes in class that morning. My hand slipped into my leggings, my fingers finding my clit, already swollen and needy.

I was so lost in it, imagining it was Rowan's tongue and Declan's fingers, that I didn't hear the footsteps. A shadow fell over me.

"Fuck, look at that."

My eyes flew open. Rowan was standing there, his gaze locked on my hand buried in my pants. Declan was right behind him, a predatory look on his face.

I tried to pull my hand away, my face burning, but Rowan dropped to his knees in front of me and gripped my wrist.

"Don't you fucking stop," he commanded, his voice rough. "Let me see you. Show us how you play with that pretty little cunt when you're thinking about us."

I was paralyzed with shame and a blinding, white-hot lust. Declan knelt beside me, his mouth at my ear.

"You're so wet for us, aren't you, you dirty girl? Is that pussy aching for a real cock?"

I could only whimper, my hips starting to move again, my fingers circling my clit faster under their intense stare.

"That's it," Rowan growled, his eyes devouring the sight. "Come for us. Make a mess all over your hand. I want to see it."

And I did. I came with a broken cry, my back arching, my whole body shaking as they watched, their own cocks hard and straining against their jeans.

When I came down, panting, Rowan brought my slick fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"Fuck, you taste good. But this pussy..." he said, tapping my soaked leggings, "...is ours. And we're done waiting."

The party after the championship win was at their house. It was chaos, but the second I walked in, they were on me.

Rowan pulled me into a dark hallway, his body caging me against the wall.

"You've been teasing us for months," he breathed against my neck, his hand sliding between my legs, palming my pussy through my dress. "You're fucking soaked. Always so ready for us."

"I can't take it anymore," I panted, grinding against his hand. "I need you inside me. Both of you. Please."

That was all the permission they needed. In seconds, I was in Rowan's bedroom, the lock clicking into place.

The air was thick with the smell of their cologne and pure, unadulterated lust.

Declan ripped my dress open, the sound of tearing fabric making me moan.

Rowan's mouth was on my tits, sucking and biting while Declan shoved my thong aside and shoved two fingers inside me.

"So fucking tight," Declan grunted, scissoring his fingers. "Gonna have to stretch this little cunt out. Gonna make it fit me and Rowan at the same time."

The vulgar words sent a new flood of wetness between my legs.

"Yes," I begged. "Do it. I want it."

They stripped, their cocks springing free, fully hard and magnificent. Rowan pushed me to my knees.

"Suck my dick, Noelle. Get it nice and wet for your pussy."

I didn't hesitate. I took him deep into my throat, gagging around his girth, my saliva dripping down his shaft.

I reached for Declan, stroking him at the same time, his pre-cum slicking my palm.

"Enough," Rowan finally growled, pulling me up and throwing me onto the bed. He positioned himself behind me. "Watch her face, Kev. I want to see her eyes when I break her in."

Declan knelt in front of me, guiding his cock to my lips. At the same time, I felt the thick, blunt head of Rowan's cock press against my entrance.

"Ready, baby?" Rowan murmured, his hands on my hips.

"Fuck me," I begged.

He slammed into me in one brutal, perfect thrust.

I screamed around Declan's cock as he filled my mouth, the feeling of being utterly filled, front and back, shattering my world.

Rowan's cock was stretching me to the absolute limit, a burning, exquisite fullness I'd never known.

"Holy shit, she's tight," Rowan groaned, pulling out and slamming back in, making me see stars.

Declan fucked my face, his grip in my hair tight. "You like that, you slut? You like having two brothers use you?"

All I could do was moan, my body being used by them, completely at their mercy.

The sounds were filthy: skin slapping against skin, their guttural groans, my choked cries of pleasure.

Rowan's pace went feral, his hips pounding into me like a machine. The bed slammed against the wall.

At the same time, Declan, his cock shiny and slick from my spit, pressed the fat head right against my tight little asshole.

My whole body went stiff. This was the moment. The one we'd been teasing for weeks.

"Breathe, you dirty slut," Declan grunted, spitting a wad of saliva right onto my ass and rubbing it all over his dick. "This ass is mine now."

Then Rowan drove his thick cock all the way into my dripping pussy in one hard, deep thrust.

I screamed, the stretch so fucking good it hurt. Before I could even catch my breath, Declan started pushing into my other hole.

Fire. Pressure. Heaven. I was being split in two, stuffed fuller than I ever thought possible. There was no gentle bullshit. This was a takeover.