Budding anger was warring with much wiser caution, yet it still thinned her lips.
“I have something that might cheer you up.” Toby cocked a grin, the sort of grin a smart girl knew not to trust. From the satchel slung over his shoulder he pulled out repurposed drapes.
Her dress.
Gesturing at the hastily donned flannel shirt and grimy pants, he purred, “I want you to take that off, and put this on… wear your special dress for me.”
The memory might have been foggy, but Wren had pieced enough together to know what this man had done to her prone body while she’d healed. He wasn’t waiting for a reply they both knew he’d never get. Fingers to her shirt buttons, he began to work them free.
Flannel spread, a pair of snow-white breasts unveiled. Slipping the old fabric down her arms, appreciation sparkled in overeager eyes as he licked his lips.
Palm cupping a breast, he murmured to himself. “It’s almost a pity to cover these up.”
After the morning she’d had, Wren was in no mood to even pretend she desired male attention. Taking the dress, she pulled it over her head and let the torn garment cover what Toby wanted to grope.
Seams had split in the days-ago tussle with Caspian, the dress no longer hanging as she’d designed it. The fabric could be mended, but, looking down at where even the skirt had rent, Wren knew it would never be the same.
Just like her.
Toby didn’t seem to mind. He took her fingers and spread her arms wide, looking over the figure she cut. “You’ll wear this when it’s just us, huh? For me only. The others won’t understand.”
Wren nodded.
Grin going wider, he leered. “And the room? You really don’t like it, do you? Tell me what you want and I’ll have it changed.”
Was he being playful, or was this some kind of duplicity? He’d taken her pen and paper, leaving communication closed.
Winging her answer, Wren took a step back, gestured between them, and began to slowly sign the alphabet. If he really wanted to give her something, he could give her a way to communicate.
After all, of her three owners, he was the only one who’d asked what signs meant and actually watched her hands when she spoke. Making a game of it, just as when she’d taught the boys, Wren teased with little pokes and sly smirks, shaping his fingers into the sign for ‘A’.
Toby was a fast learner, one who stole a kiss every time he got a gesture right. By the time they reached ‘Z’, the lesson took on a different aim. Armoire at her back, panting Alpha pressed to her front, the shaft trapped between them began to thicken and grow.
“He’s going to let me fuck you tonight,” the male breathed over her neck, licking at the remaining bruises like a cat cleaning his young. “You’re gonna like it. He thinks you won’t, but I know you will. My playful ray of sunshine can handle Toby’s knot in your sweet little pussy. She can take all I give her.”
A growl rumbling from his ribs, Toby hiked up her skirt to slip his fingers into her panties. The fabric stuck to where warmth flowed at his call, peeled away so he might prod the source.
“Caspian likes them obedient. Kieran likes them fawning. Me? I like you. Just like this. Honest, wet, and ready for me.” Fingers squelching through the trickle, he fed her pussy as much as he might. Rubbing at her insides, pushing almost to the point of pain, he said, “I won’t touch the other girls like they will. You’ll get all my attention.”
If that was a threat or a promise, Wren couldn’t tell. She could hardly focus on anything but what he was doing between her legs. It wasn’t all sexual and it felt a little strange… as if he was stretching her.
Pressing his forehead to hers, he closed his eyes, scissoring his fingers inside her body. “God, you’re tight. I’ll have them both take you first… make you ready.”
What on earth was he talking about?
Breath catching, Wren went to her toes when Toby angled his hand and pressed upward. Her discomfort was noted, but not alleviated.
He growled, using her bodyweight to prod deeper, undulating his hand. Slick came at the rumble in the Alpha’s chest, but arousal was stalled… like his hand in her pussy that could go no further.
“I’ll stop when you let me put my fist in. I’ll stop when I feel you squeeze it like a knot.” The way he breathed, how his chest rose and fell with excitement, it was as if he were bordering on climax. Not her.
Just from touching her. Touching her in a way that was more pain than pleasure. It didn’t feel like a cock or a knot, not when he circled his wrist and stretched what wasn’t ready.