“Make sure her eyes stay open,” Oz tells him.
“Hear that, kitten, eyes open.”
Except he doesn’t need to remind me. I’m too enthralled watching the live video feed on the ceiling as Oz lines himself up between my legs.
I never see it from this angle. Normally, with Eli this close to me my vision would be blocked but the projection means I can seeeverything.
I quickly decide there is no view better than the look on Oz’s face and the clench of his buttocks as he sinks inside of my pussy. My mouth opens on a gasp and Eli takes advantage, sliding his hard length to the back of my throat.
His hands grip my head and I swallow him down as images of them fucking me surround us.
I catch glimpses of Oz’s eyes shuttering, of my legs splayed wide around his hips as his cock disappears between my lower lips. It’s lewd and dirty but somehow the blush it brings to my cheeks only makes it hotter.
I cut my gaze to the wall and watch my cheeks hollow as I suck Eli deeper. His groan reverberates through me, and I curl my fingers around the cuffs holding me hostage.
“Fucking Christ,” Eli curses. “I’m going to come.”
“Pull out,” Oz orders. “I want it on her tits.”
I gasp for air as ropes of Eli’s hot cum splash across my breasts and stomach, blending with the purple wax. He falls to the side on the bed next to me and Oz thrusts harder now, bottoming out with each stroke.
Eli drags two fingers through his cum and lowers them to my clit. He rolls circles over the tight bundle of nerves until my breath catches and I clamp around Oz’s cock. Then he gathers more cum on his fingers and paints my lips.
“That’s it. Lick them clean, kitten.”
I flick my tongue out and suck on his fingers as he swirls them around my mouth.
Oz groans at the sight and that’s all it takes for him to lose it. His grip on my hips tightens, and he tugs me towards him as he shudders inside of me, his release hot against my inner walls.
Slowly, deliberately slowly, Oz pulls out and I don’t need to be told to watch as his cum spills out of my cunt.
“So fucking messy,” Oz purrs, taking two fingers and pushing his release back inside of me. He holds out a hand to Eli. “Pass me my camera.”
Eli grabs Oz’s Nikon off the bedside table and I watch Oz work in the projections on the ceiling as he spreads my legs wide and snaps some photos. He takes one of my chest, Eli’s release swirling around the purple splashes of wax, and turns the camera around to show me.
“Now you haveourmarks. Inside and out.” He puts the camera down, leans over me, and taps two fingers against my temple. “Your father may have gotten inside your head, but weown your soul.” He drags his hand down, resting it against the mess on my chest, right over my heart.
I breathe him in, the scent of us and the hint of cinnamon that always clings to Oz rich in the air. The image of us kaleidoscopes all around me and never before have I felt so utterly encompassed, so incrediblyowned.
I didn’t realize I was only clinging to existence, scrabbling at the edges of the world until these four men brought me to life. They fixed my broken pieces and every time I splinter, they bring me back together.
“I want to kiss you.”
Eli releases the cuffs around my wrists and I twine my fingers behind Oz’s neck. I sink into the feeling of his lips on mine, soft worship in every crushing kiss.
After, Eli takes me into the ensuite and lathers soap over my body as we shower. When we come back out into the bedroom, Oz has made the bed with fresh sheets and heaped cushions and pillows against the headboard.
I climb on next to him and look up to find a photo of me throwing popcorn at Jude projected onto the ceiling.
Oz pulls me down into the crook of his arm and Eli lies at my other side.
Gentle music plays from Oz’s Bluetooth speaker as a slideshow of photos plays across the ceiling. Me, stealing Eli’s cowboy hat, a grin splitting my face. Jude tickling me on the couch as we play Monopoly. Pleasure in my shuttered eyes as I taste the pasta sauce Oz has made. Layla and me in our dresses with our backs to each other and finger guns pointed in the Charlie’s Angels pose.
I laugh.
The photos keep coming, moments I hadn’t even realized Oz had captured playing out above us.
“This is you, Freya. You’re not the daughter of a serial killer. You’re the woman who makes my heart beat. You’re laughter and trouble and you’re so filled to the brim with love that it explodes out of you.”
