No Cameras Here.

Chapter 6  

I stayed in my room after Talil’s call ended. The new recordings of Varek and Selene sat on my phone like a loaded gun. Every time I unlocked the screen I saw their kiss, heard his voice promising her my life, and felt the same cold drop in my stomach. Talil had orders to watch me now. The walls of the house felt closer than they had that morning.

Night came slowly. I made a simple dinner and left a plate for Varek in the usual place. He thanked me in the soft voice I used to believe. I nodded and went back upstairs. I told myself I would stay alone. I needed to think. I needed a plan that did not involve Kael or Draven. My body disagreed. The memory of their hands and mouths sat under my skin and refused to quiet.

Around eleven I went downstairs for water. The kitchen was dark except for the small light over the stove. I filled a glass and drank it standing at the sink, staring at my own reflection in the window. Behind me the floor creaked.

Kael’s voice came low. “You have been avoiding me.”

I turned. He stood in the doorway, dark clothes, dark eyes, the same controlled stillness he always carried. My pulse jumped.

“I needed time.”

“Did it help?”

“No.”

He walked closer until he stood in front of me. The counter pressed against my lower back. He did not touch me yet. He only looked.

“I deleted three of the newer recordings,” he said. “The ones from the living room and the second night in your bed. Varek has not noticed yet.”

The words landed hard. I stared at him. “Why?”

“Because I am tired of feeding him.” His hand came up and brushed a strand of hair from my face. The touch was careful. “And because I do not like the way he talks about you when you are not in the room.”

I should have stepped away. Instead I stayed still while his fingers traced the line of my jaw. Heat pooled low in my belly. The fear and the want tangled together until I could not tell them apart.

“Kael…”

He kissed me. It was not gentle. His mouth claimed mine with the same rough hunger as the first night, but there was something harder underneath it now. His hands gripped my hips and lifted me onto the counter in one motion. My nightdress rode up. He stepped between my thighs and pressed against me, already hard.

“I have been thinking about this all day,” he muttered against my mouth. “About how wet you get. About the sounds you make when you come.”

He pushed the nightdress higher and cupped my bare breast, thumb circling the nipple until it peaked. I arched into his hand. He pinched harder and I gasped. His other hand slid between my legs and found me soaked.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Still so ready.”

Two fingers pushed inside me without warning. He fucked me with them in deep, steady strokes while his mouth moved to my neck, biting just hard enough to sting. I gripped the edge of the counter and let my head fall back. The wet sound of his fingers filled the quiet kitchen. My hips rolled to meet every thrust.

He pulled his fingers out, sucked them clean while I watched, then freed his cock. He rubbed the thick head through my folds, teasing my entrance, and then pushed in with one long, hard thrust. The stretch forced a broken moan from my throat. He did not give me time to adjust. He gripped my hips and started fucking me in deep, punishing strokes that rocked the counter and sent pleasure sparking up my spine.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

I did. His eyes were dark and intense. He fucked me harder, the sound of skin meeting skin loud in the empty kitchen. One hand stayed on my hip. The other reached between us and rubbed my clit in tight, fast circles. The dual sensation built fast. I came with a sharp cry, walls clamping around him, legs shaking around his waist. He kept thrusting through it, dragging the orgasm out until I was trembling and oversensitive.

He pulled out, breathing hard, and turned me around so my chest pressed to the cool counter. He entered me from behind in one smooth thrust and set a rougher pace. One hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back. The other reached around to play with my clit again. I came a second time with my cheek against the counter, moaning his name.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway.

Draven appeared in the doorway, already pulling his shirt off. He took in the scene—me bent over the counter, Kael buried deep inside me—and smiled slow.

“Kitchen this time. Nice.”

Kael did not stop moving. “Living room. No cameras there.”

Draven’s eyebrows rose. “You sure?”

“I checked.”

They did not ask me. Kael pulled out, lifted me off the counter, and carried me into the living room. He set me on the large sofa. Draven followed, already hard. The three of us tangled together on the wide cushions. No red lights blinked in the corners. For the first time the air felt private.

Kael stretched out and pulled me over him so I straddled his hips. He guided his cock back inside me and held my waist while I sank down. The angle was deep. I braced my hands on his chest and started to move. Draven knelt behind me, hands roaming over my back and sides, then reached around to cup my breasts and roll my nipples between his fingers. His mouth pressed hot kisses along my shoulder.

“Ride him,” Draven murmured against my skin. “I want to watch.”

I did. I rose and dropped, taking Kael deep on every stroke. Draven’s hands stayed busy—pinching, stroking, sliding down to rub my clit while I moved. The dual attention made everything sharper. Kael’s hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise and helped me take him harder. I came again with a broken sound, body shaking between them.

They switched. Draven lay back and I sank onto him. He felt different—slightly thicker, the angle new. Kael moved behind me, one hand in my hair, the other guiding my rhythm. Then Kael pushed me forward so my chest met Draven’s and I felt the blunt press of his cock against my ass. He did not enter there. He simply rubbed against me while Draven fucked up into my pussy, the friction adding another layer of sensation. I came a fourth time with both of them touching me, mouth open against Draven’s neck.

They finished close together. Kael came across my lower back with a low curse. Draven followed inside me, hips jerking, hands tight on my waist. I collapsed forward onto Draven’s chest, breathing hard, skin slick with sweat. Kael stretched out beside us, one heavy arm draped over my back.

For a long time none of us spoke. The living room stayed quiet and dark. No camera lights. No distant wheelchair motor. Just the three of us and the fading heat of what we had done.

Kael’s fingers traced slow circles on my shoulder. “He cannot know I deleted those files.”

“I will not tell him,” I whispered.

Draven’s hand stroked my hair. “We need a better plan than hoping he stays blind.”

I lifted my head and looked at both of them. The words I had been holding back pressed against my teeth. The recordings of Varek walking. The phone call with Selene. The warehouse. Talil’s new orders. I opened my mouth to finally tell them everything.

The front door opened with a solid click.

Footsteps crossed the entryway—steady, confident, and unfamiliar in their weight. A man’s voice called out, clear and authoritative.

“Varek? Lyra? I let myself in. We need to talk.”

Roric Blackwood’s voice. Varek’s older brother. Head of the family.

Kael’s body went rigid under me. Draven sat up fast. I scrambled

for my nightdress, heart slamming, the fragile safety of the camera-free room already gone.