Page 39 of Lords of Misrule
So I fucking do the thing I shouldn’t. I slide my hand under the band of my sweats and grab my cock. I close my eyes, too self-conscious not to when I give it a slow stroke. At least until I hear her again. Another soft moan, and I dare myself to open them again, meeting hers and she’s watching me intently. I stroke myself again and another moan follows from her.
Rowan’s fingers tighten in her hair, and he mutters something, but I can’t hear him. Not really. Because I’m too busy watching her as her free hand slides between her legs, and she starts to rub her clit—her eyes never leaving mine. And now I know I’m fucked. Because I don’t care that Finn’s fucking her or Rowan’s cock is in her mouth. Her fingers are on her pussy for me because she’s watching me stroke my cock under my sweats, and she fuckinglikesit. Likes me watching her. Likes that I can’t control myself while I do it.
Fuck me.
It won’t take much more. This whole scene is too much for me. I’m not practiced enough, and I’m still fucking lightheaded from the pain of smashing my face into the door. Every single stroke of my hand over my cock has everything in me going tight and hard, desperate to fucking come.
Watching her I can tell it’s the same for her. Charlotte’s eyes are locked on the place where my hand slides back and forth under my sweats, and her fingers follow my rhythm, her hips rolling back against Finn to the same beat and despite the fact I’m halfway across the room I feel like all of it is for me.
“Fuck…” she moans as she pulls away from Rowan for a moment. “I’m so close.”
“You’re doing so fucking well, Charlotte. So fucking gorgeous getting fucked by both of us,” Finn offers her words of encouragement.
“That’s right Duchess. You’re our perfect little fuckdoll. Taking both our cocks at the same time. Now finish sucking me off. I want my cock in your mouth when you come for us. Want you to choke on it when you try to scream my name.” Rowan’s rougher with her, but she looks up at him with lust in her eyes.
“Ask me nicely,” she taunts him, and fuck if the way she says it doesn’t do things for me.
He smirks at her but relents.
“Please suck my cock and let me come down your throat.”
She smiles before she takes him again, deeper than ever before, and he groans loudly.
“God damn, Duchess. Your mouth... Fuck me.”
“You close, Charlotte? I’m gonna fucking come.” Finn’s hand slides over her lower back and ass again, kneading the flesh there as she leans back into him. She moans her approval, her fingers back on her clit again. She glances at me like she wants to make sure I’m still in it, and I can’t help the small smile that flits over my lips. One it almost seems like her eyes return before Finn starts to fuck her harder. Her full breasts bounce with every movement, and I imagine sliding underneath her to lick her sweet pussy. Letting her fuck my face for relief while they fuck her. The imaginary scene’s too fucking good, and I can’t take anymore, feeling the rush of my own orgasm distracting me as I use my hand to take me over the edge of it.
It’s a blur after that. Finn and Rowan groaning as they start to fill her up, her moaning as her fingers slip over her clit again and again, and the feeling of my own release warm and wet on my hand as I see black at the edges of my vision from how hard I just came.
I watch her as she collapses, and Finn catches her, pulling her into his lap. Her head slips under his chin, and he kisses her forehead while he praises her for how perfect she is. Rowan stands to grab some tissues off the shelf and cleans himself up. I don’t miss the way he watches them, a tinge of jealousy and want on his face when he sees the same thing I am—the easy way she clings to Finn like he’s her lifeline. As if it might be more than just his cock she likes so much.
I realize I don’t belong here anymore. How fucking awkward this all is now that the haze of desperation is starting to fade, and I stand abruptly. Charlotte and Finn are so engrossed in each other they don’t even notice but Rowan looks up at me. His eyes flash over me, and we exchange a look. The kind that recognizes we’re both sick fucking bastards for wanting her.
Then I rush off for the shower. I’d needed one before, and after that—knowing full well how often it’s going to play and replay in my mind for the rest of my life—I definitely need one now.
Twenty-One
Charlotte
When we get to Colin’s house it’s surprisingly easy to get in, and all four of us slip in the same way they had the last time. The difference is that this time he is well and truly gone. I confirmed it on a phone call with him earlier in the evening when I wished him a Merry Christmas. The house is dark and completely silent, and we do our best to work with the ambient lighting in the room until we get to the paintings. The last thing we need to do is attract the attention of the neighbors.
Everyone disperses to their assignments just like we’ve practiced a million times before tonight. Hudson slips off to check that we’ve disarmed all the cameras in and around the house and make sure we haven’t been caught on any of them on the way in. Rowan and Finn work to pull the paintings down from their frames while I work on getting the fakes set up to go in.
I had a wild idea at the last second—one Finn and I were able to realize in the art department’s new lab. Late in the evening hours when the studio rooms are all still open for people to work on an honor system but are mostly a ghost town at that hour.
When Colin had shown us these paintings, and bragged about how he got them and their history, he shared photos in the slides. Ones he saved on a drive that he let students have access to in case they missed class or just wanted to revisit the lectures before a test. I clicked on one of the photos, praying that the man had been stupid enough to upload high-resolution photos. And he did—original scans he had done in incredibly high resolution that he’d then saved.
I remembered when he showed them in class that they took time to load, which had been odd. That memory paid off when the scans were large enough to create full-scale reproductions on the art lab’s oversized printer. One we logged into with his code. So if the man was ever smart enough to figure out the real paintings had been taken, and he filed for insurance, he’d look like the fraud if they did any real sort of investigation. It’s so poetic that I almost want to shed a tear at our handiwork.
We work fast having practiced with the copies in our living room at least four times the previous week to make sure we could get in and out fast. Hopefully, everyone is too busy with their Christmas celebrations to even notice anything outside their own homes, but just in case we need to be quick.
The copies go in easily, and Rowan and Finn get them back up on the wall just as Hudson returns from the other rooms.
“All clear,” Hudson whispers before he glances up at the paintings. “Fuck, those are good.”
“That’s the plan.” I smile at my handiwork.
“Good thing we have you.” He grins back at me, and Rowan flashes a look at both of us before they mount the final painting on the wall.
