Broken Compass

“Yes,” she breathes.

And okay, I do get a thrill from telling them what to do—but my point is that I’m done being on the outside.

Time to get down and dirty.

I groan in anticipation as she places the condom on West’s erection and rolls it down. West is staring down at her hands on his dick, his gaze dark, pupils blown, and it’s damn hot.

My dick twitches and leaks in response.

“Come here.” I tug her, turning her until she’s facing me. “My turn.”

“You haven’t said what we’re doing.” She laughs breathlessly, and I slam my mouth on hers, licking off her smile.

Then her hand wanders down to my cock and I jerk. She doesn’t move back, though. She kisses me softly, sweetly. “Your turn,” she whispers. “Tell me.”

But I can’t. Not when she’s working my dick in her small fist, kissing me, when I’m torn between panic and burning need.

West breaks through the moment of confusion, molding himself to her back, brushing her long hair off one pale shoulder and bending to lick the skin under her ear. “Suck him off,” he orders. “Don’t you wanna taste him, girl?”

“Yes,” she moans. “God, yes.”

She places her other hand on my chest and I jerk, falling back on my ass, unsure… off-kilter. Horny and excited and terrified. “Fuck.”

Her lips part, the tip of her pink tongue darting out to lick them, and I reach for my cock. With her tits bare, her bare pussy glistening wet so close as she kneels there with her thighs splayed, I’m so fucking close to shooting my load.

She shoves a bit more, and I lie on my back, panting. She bends over me, kneeling between my legs, and pushes my hand off my dick. “Let me.”

I grunt, my dick jumping when West follows her, kneeling behind her, his big frame dwarfing her. He strokes his hands down her arms, then slides them over her belly and over her tits, making her moan.

“Show him,” he whispers in her ear, and bends her over me.

Over my straining cock.

Her eyes meet mine. “You okay doing this?” she murmurs.

“Yeah.” I’m still coiled tight, every muscle tense and trembling as she reclaims her hold on my cock.

But I haven’t freaked out completely, not yet. Would you look at that. Not

only insomnia and pain don’t seem to affect my sex drive, but apparently, sexual assaults don’t either. I may still have nightmares—I may never get rid of them—but something in me seems to have changed.

Knowing I escaped last time without them getting what they wanted. That my friends had my back. That they now know everything and don’t hate me, don’t cringe away from me.

So I can’t cringe away from myself, either.

Still, it isn’t easy to keep from jerking away when she moves closer, when she leans in and licks the underside of my cock.

Damn, it feels so good, though. When she does it again, my balls tighten.

Then she slides her lips over the head, and down my length, and my head falls back. I swallow down a groan, struggle to keep my hips from rocking up.

But she swallows my dick down, and I arch up with a cry.

God. Yes.

My hand finds its way to her hair and I hold on, praying I’m not hurting her. Can’t recall the last time someone’s hands and mouth on me felt good, when it wasn’t forced on me, and I didn’t hate myself for feeling even a shred of pleasure.

Syd, I chant inside my head. It’s Syd. My Syd.