Page 27 of Snowed in with the Brutes
Chapter Sixteen
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Cora
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“Cora, sweetheart.”
It’s Flinn’s voice, accompanied by his knuckles gliding gently up and down my cheek, that awakens me.
I slowly open my eyes to see his gorgeous face hovering above mine.
The events of the night before flood back to me in vivid detail: the wet spot my body left on the bench.
Kian.
Kian touching me, taking my virginity, and then sharing me with Flinn and Sinclair so that I now feel molded to their cocks.They took me over and over, the entire night long.
The memory ignites a strong reaction within me, and my thighs instantly become slick with wetness.I don’t need to look to see the red marks they left on me, the evidence of where they suckled hard and grazed me with their teeth, unleashing a primal instinct within me that shouldn’t exist.My breasts, around my nipples, my neck, my stomach, the insides of my thighs, the sides of my pussy, my mind, all bearing their mark.
Also their hands on my hips keeping me pinned beneath them, leaving their prints on my skin or threading through my hair, pulling at my tresses the moment I started to come, making the tears in my eyes force me to come harder.
There isn’t a place they didn’t touch and leave behind their mark.
Dear god, my skin sizzles with the intensity of a thousand electrical charges.
Only one thought remains crystal clear in my mind: no man or men can touch me now.My body is no longer mine; it belongs to three mafia kings.But that can’t be.
But what have I done?What.Have.I.Done?I scream inside.
Panic surges through me, and I want to run.
“Wake up, sweetheart.We have to leave,” Flinn says bringing me to back to earth.Leave?I’m instantly on high alert.I glance out the wall-to-wall windows and am relieved to see the storm has lifted.
“Did something happen to my dad?”I fling the covers off and spring to my feet as reality crashes down on me.My dad...
A stabbing pain weakens my resolve.I fear the worst.Did something happen to my dad?Am I too late?I will never forgive myself if I fail him.Oh, Dad.
“Your dad?”Sinclair asks, his brows furrowing.
“I meant my father.”
I messed up; I referred to him as my father, not my dad.
“It’s other mafia business,” Kian says, but his gaze remains fixed on me.
I have to keep it together or everything will blow up in my face.
“Of course,” I say, regaining my composure.“Can you call my father, please, to let him know he has to send a helicopter for me?”
