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The Never King: Chapter 17

WINNIE

Peter Pan drops the heart to the patio and uses his bloody hand to grab my arm and yank me away.

I’m still tipsy, but the buzz has burned away, leaving me shivering and foggy.

Pan just killed that boy.

He tore out his heart.

Is this really happening?

The others scatter as Pan drags me across the patio and up the stairs. Kas and Bash and Vane follow us.

I try not to trip over my own feet.

When we’re back in the house, in the loft, Pan yanks me into the dining room and tosses me into a chair.

He sets his hands on either side of the seat, caging me in.

There is blood splattered across his face and the sight of him covered in carnage makes butterflies take flight in my stomach.

“What part of this do you not understand, Darling?” His voice is a razor teasing at my skin. One wrong move and the blade will part me, let the blood well to the light.

“Pan,” Bash starts, but Pan cuts his gaze to Bash, silencing him.

“I have rules,” Pan says.

“So I’ve heard.”

“It’s for your safety.”

“Is it? Because last I checked, you kidnapped me.”

His jaw flexes and he grinds his teeth together.

“I’m trying to save this fucking island,” he says.

“I don’t care what you’re doing,” I hear myself say. “This isn’t my home. And I didn’t take your fucking shadow.”

He scowls, then shoots a glare over my head. “Who told her?”

“Wasn’t us,” Kas says.

“Don’t look at me,” Vane says. And then, “Probably Cherry.”

“You going to kill her too?” I throw in his face. “Maybe you’ll kill me next? Dig out my insides and search for your answers. Maybe it’s printed here on my bones.” I lift my middle finger to him and glare.

He’s silent and stoic for a second and then suddenly he’s yanking me back to my feet and pressing me to the edge of the table. “What are you doing? What is your plan? Fuck every Lost Boy on the island just to provoke me?”

I frown up at him, catching on the words he used.

There is always something to glean from words, which ones, how they’re said.

If they’re used as knives or balms.

Provoke me.

Provoke me.

I’ve gotten to the mighty myth of Peter Pan and my heart beats a little harder with excitement.

“Yes,” I hear myself saying. “They call me Winnie Whore, you know. Fucking boys is what I do best.”

The breath he takes in is long and labored and it rumbles in the back of his throat.

I tremble beneath him, not from the cold. Never from the cold.

I sense the rising fury in his body, the tremor before the earthquake.

I have one second to breathe before he’s spinning me around and bending me over the table.

His left hand presses at the back of my head, driving my face to the wooden table. His other hand bunches my skirt around my waist and yanks down my panties.

I gasp out, sending a fallen leaf skittering over the table.

“If you want to fuck the Lost Boys,” Peter Pan says, “why not start at the top?”

He kicks my legs apart, baring me and I hear the rasp of a zipper opening.

“Maybe I will,” I say.

My heart is thudding so hard, I swear I can hear it ramming against the table.

This is insane, all of it is insane, but my pussy is throbbing, my clit pulsing, and I can feel myself growing wetter by the second.

I sense Bash and Kas and Vane beyond us, watching, and that makes the butterflies in my stomach turn to a frenzy.

The head of Pan’s cock comes to my opening and I let out a little yelp.

The hand at the back of my head tangles in my hair, slides to the back of my neck.

“If you want to act like a whore,” he says as he leans over me, “then I’ll treat you like a whore.”

He shoves into me.

I gasp out.

One of the twins says, “Fuck me,” low and beneath his breath as the table shudders from Pan’s thrusts inside of me.

He’s big, stretching me wide, and I tense beneath him as he slides in and out, not with speed, but force.

The buzz has worn off and there is only the pulsing need in my pussy now, the urge to be released.

I’m slick beneath him. He’s hard as a rock.

A moan escapes my raw throat as the pressure at my clit builds and builds. I wiggle beneath him like a cat in heat trying to get any kind of friction against my swollen nub.

Pan knows exactly what I’m doing.

He reaches around to cup me and then stops, his cock buried inside of me.

I gasp out, choke on the breath.

“Do you want to come, Darling?” he asks, his voice rough at my ear.

“Yes,” I say, barely a word at all.

“Beg for it.”

“What?”

“Beg for it, Darling.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, try to come back to my body. I think my soul has left and is floating off to the stars.

I haven’t felt this awake in…ever.

“Please,” I say and suck in another breath. “Please can I come?”

His fingers shift against me, finding that swollen heat. I cry out, jolt beneath him.

He goes still again, pulls his cock out a fraction, then pushes forward slowly, teasingly.

I’m practically vibrating against the table.

“Please, Pan. Oh god.”

“Go on then,” he says. “Come for me while the Lost Boys watch.”

Then he swirls two fingers around my clit, pumping into me, and I let go.

I am flying.

Soaring.

White stars blink behind my eyes as all the air rushes out of me and a shrill moan escapes my throat.

My nerves burn with pleasure as the heat cascades through my pussy and I clench around him as he drives in deep.

He grows harder, harder, filling me up and then his hands sink to my hips and he slams into me and growls so loudly it makes me shiver.

He rides through the orgasm, angling up against my inner wall, the head of his cock throbbing as he spills the last of his cum.

When he pulls out of me, I slump against the table, panting.

I think that must be it but then Bash comes around the table, a significant bulge in his pants.

“Can I?” Bash asks.

Peter Pan drops into a chair and nods his consent.

Bash gets behind me, still bent over the table. He’s bare for me in seconds and nestles into my heat. “Little Darling whore, such a filthy little mess.”

I shiver beneath his words.

“Brother,” he says. “Get over here.”

Kas hesitates and I lift off the table to look down the length of it at him.

There is something dark in his eyes. A hunger he doesn’t want to satiate.

Kas is the nice one, but I don’t think he’s nice enough to deny what he wants to take.

He gets up, kicks a chair aside and comes to the edge of the table by my face.

“Fuck yeah,” Bash says as he pushes into me. “Wrap those pretty little lips around my brother’s cock.”

Kas doesn’t wait. Now that he’s made his decision, he’s ready to act on it.

He takes a length of my hair, wraps it around his fist and guides my mouth over his length.

He fills me up as Bash starts pumping into me.

My heart races in my ears and thuds heavily in my chest.

Kas fucks my mouth roughly, hitting the back of my throat. I gasp, choking on him, and Bash tightens his grip on my hips. “Take it all, Darling. Be a good girl.”

Holy shit.

Fuck, this is hot.

Tears fill my eyes as the twins fill me up, fucking me in both holes, relentlessly, mercilessly.

And as they do, I catch sight of Peter Pan in the shadows, watching me get fucked with a look on his face that I think is satisfaction.

And out of all of it tonight, that is what makes me feel most powerful.

I am so fucking alive.

Bash thrusts harder, faster. Kas pumps into my mouth, groaning deep in his chest.

“You ready to fill her up, brother?” Bash says.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” Kas says.

And in some kind of fucked up twin synchronicity, they both come at the same time.

Kas spills down my throat and his cum beads sweetly on my tongue just as Bash slams into me from behind with a low grunt.

I lock eyes with Peter Pan.

His gaze is glinting, his lips wet.

I didn’t come again, but it almost feels like I did because my nerves are blinking and my belly alighting.

The boys pull out of me and I stay bent over the table breathing heavily through the tingling aftershocks.

“No one else touches her,” Pan says. “Do you understand me?”

Bash is still breathing heavily. “Got it.”

Vane’s footsteps come around the table. A shiver creeps down my spine as I sense him taking up the space behind me.

Is he going to fuck me too?

Fill me with terror and cum?

Do I want that?

Somehow Vane giving in to me might be more of a victory than Pan giving in.

Vane yanks me upright, turns me around. My ass presses against the edge of the table, digging into my flesh.

There is no hint of emotion on Vane’s cruelly gorgeous face and it’s impossible to read his thoughts in those mismatched eyes.

“Open up, Darling,” he orders.

I don’t know where this is going, but no one is stepping in and curiosity gets the better of me.

I part my lips. Vane gets in close and spits in my mouth.

“That’s all you’ll get from me.”

I spit it out, dragging my hand over my mouth. “You asshole!” I pummel him with a fist. But hitting him is like hitting a mountain.

Futile. Stupid.

It’s Pan that stops me.

“Vane,” he says in a low, rumbling warning. “Don’t be a dick.”

“Why?” he asks. “When I’m so good at it?”

I scowl at him. He smiles at me, all gleaming teeth.

He got the better of me and I’m burning with the need for revenge.

Out of all the things the boys did to me tonight, it’s Vane that managed to get beneath my skin.

Asshole.

“Go on,” Pan tells him.

Vane cuts me with one last look before turning and walking away.

“Darling,” Pan says and I finally look up at him.

“Don’t ever provoke me again.”

There’s still blood on his hand and it finally registers that he killed someone, then fucked me.

What is happening?

And why the hell do I feel so fucking amazing right now?

Is this part of the madness? Driving me to new heights of pleasure and debauchery?

But no…

They don’t fuck Darlings.

Or at least, they didn’t before me.

“Sleep with the twins tonight,” Pan orders. “Don’t let her out of your sight again,” he adds.

“Come on.” Kas offers me his hand. “How about a shower?”

I look over my shoulder at Peter Pan. His pants are still unbuttoned, but his cock is tucked away. He’s disheveled and wild, the myth from the mythical island.

Not boy, not man.

A king.

I don’t know where I expected this night to go, but it wasn’t here.

I am no longer lost.

I think I might have finally been found.


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