DO YOU WANNA BE FUCKED?

I roll the pad of my middle finger around my clit as I witness the man flipping the female onto her back in one rough motion, spreading her legs wide.

His mouth crashes against hers as he lines himself up and thrusts deep.

Crying out, her nails dig into his back, and I imagine him stretching her tight pussy around his thick length. Mine pulses from the thought alone.

He doesn’t hold back. There’s no civility in the way he handles her. His hips slam against hers, dominating the audio with squelchy noises and the sound of their slapping skin.

I imagine myself being the woman as my finger works faster. Soon, my index finger aids my middle finger, and every thrust of the man hits that perfect spot inside my mind.

When the woman’s back arches—as she leans into him desperately—the walls of my own pussy clench, craving a fill.

“Harder,” she gasps, legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his ass.

He obeys by pounding into her as one hand pins her wrists above her head, while the other squeezes her breast, pinching her nipple until she whimpers.

He pulls out suddenly, then flips her onto all fours. Gripping her hair, he yanks her head back before slamming back inside her from behind.

Now he fucks her deeper, harder, rougher.

“You’re gonna cum on my cock like the good little slut you are,” he snarls, reaching around to rub her swollen clit.

My hips thrust forward without my control as I watch her break. And I can imagine her cunt spasming around him like mine is clenching to itself.

The moment she screams his name, he buries himself to the base of his cock and groans while jizzing his cum into her.

I’d been biting my bottom lip the entire time, so I don’t know when my own moan slips out as I feel myself reaching the edge.

My body stiffens. My fingers move faster in an erratic rhythm. And my head pushes backwards, eyes half-closed.

“Who the fuck are you?” Someone's voice snaps me out of the moment. A male voice. Deep. Husky. Much displeased.

My hands retract from inside my pants in a split second as I jump to my feet and swerve around to find the voice's owner standing by the door.

How did I not hear the door open? How did I not even hear him come in?

Now I’m faced with a fuming man, who makes me realize that the 6-foot mannequin posing beside the table, as well as the images on the posters plastered on the walls, are no idols of Finesse’s.

The room isn’t hers either.

I should have known that the moment I saw the p**n, and I shouldn’t have ignored the posters, which all carry images not suitable for an underage girl to see—a brawny young man posing in his underwear with tats running from his chest to his shoulders to his wrist. The boxers even outline his hardened dick.

“I asked who you are,” the stranger repeats while taking steps closer.

I don’t budge. “Finesse wanted to show me her idol’s mannequin,” I reply, hinting at the one to blame. After all, I’m not entirely at fault for violating his territory.

He stops right in front of me, and I hold my breath as he mumbles, “This does not look like her room, does it? And you haven’t answered my question.”

“She fuc—” I pause.

Whatever I was going to say wasn’t good, and Mom warned me not to run my mouth in the Baelaforts' castle, or I might find myself in a ditch.

I planned not to acknowledge that warning, but the Baelaforts have just proven to be worse than they were.

“I’m Elioza. I’m staying here for the summer.”

The frown lines on the young man’s forehead deepen. Now that I’m looking at him up close, I find too many similarities between him and the images on the posters.

His bluish-green eyes are the sexiest I’ve ever seen, surrounded by a dark intensity that traps me. And it’s not helping that his hair is that dark and thick.

“Get out,” he grits out.

“Alright.”

I leave the room instantly.

The moment I reach the staircase, Finesse shows up from nowhere, laughing her ass off.

“Did Babel eat you alive?” she asks between her laughter.

I force a smirk while counting the child as one of the three Baelaforts I’m avoiding this summer. “You seem to be having fun, girl.”

“I mean… Cainan said it would be exciting to watch you freak out in front of him. Wait till you meet Adam. You’ll shit your pants.”

I shake my head in silence. If only Finesse knew that I did not freak out as much as she thinks, and I don’t intend to meet the other half of Babel.

Dedan meets us halfway down the stairs.

“Finesse, Cainan wants you,” she says to her sister, who hurries down.

After the girl disappears from our sight, Dedan grabs my hand and drags me up the stairs. “She didn’t show you her idol, did she? I thought she would act differently toward you. But I heard her mischievous laugh and knew she messed with you. What happened?”

“She showed me the mannequin of a half-naked man, for starters.”

“Adam’s?”

“I don’t know.”

“If it’s a half-naked mannequin with a spread of alike posters on the wall, then it’s Adam’s room she took you to. He’s the self-absorbed one. Aside from Mama and Papa, Finesse is only loyal to Adam and Cainan. Be wary of her from now on.”

Dedan brings me into a room and locks the door.

The room has more pink than I’ve seen this year, and it smells of lavender.

She sits me down on her bed before doing the same herself. “Please tell me you’re still as loyal to me as before.”

I crease my brows at her plea. I mean, although we were perfect at doing shenanigans together, we haven’t been in touch since I left.

“I… don’t get you,” I admit with a nervous laugh.

Dedan takes my hands. “You see, I’m still not as perfect and graceful as my twin. My mischief heightened, and so did my dread for this place. I chose a faraway college to be far from my parents, but holidays are an unavoidable hell for my brothers and me.”

She leans in to whisper in my ear words that I never once expected to hear from the mouth of a Baelafort.

“Do you wanna be fucked?”