How Sinners Fight (Sinners of Hawthorne University 2)

My body should feel exhausted, but something about the sight of his still-hard dick makes need spark back to life inside me. I roll over onto my side, propping myself up on one elbow as I reach down to tease his cock head with my fingertips.

He hisses out a breath, and I laugh, capturing his lips in a kiss.

“Don’t worry,” I murmur. “We’re not done yet.”

His eyebrows shoot up, and the look on his face is almost comical—or it would be if it weren’t replaced almost immediately by a look of desire so fierce it makes my blood spark.

As I move to straddle him, cum slides down my inner thigh. I glance down, then back up at Elias, and he smiles.

“Blue, if you think that’s gonna make me want you less, you’re wrong as fuck.”

As if to prove his point, he grabs my hips and tugs me forward a little, lining up his cock with my entrance. As he slides into me, we both let out satisfied groans. Even Declan makes a noise in his throat, reminding me once again that we have an audience.

Elias keeps his hands on my hips, his fingers digging into my skin, but he lets me dictate the pace as I rise up and then sink back down.

“God, you feel amazing,” he breathes.

I nod, not quite able to articulate a response. My body is exhausted, pushed beyond its normal limits, but I don’t think there’s anything on earth that could make me stop fucking Elias right now. I keep moving up and down, finding a rhythm that makes us both start to breathe faster. The longer we move together, the less aware I am of any exhaustion. All I feel is the steadily building pressure in my core, the sweet ache in my clit.

“You’re beautiful, Blue.” Elias’s tone is soft and reverent. “Come for me. Come like you did for Declan. I want to see that look on your face again.”

His normally teasing voice is so serious that there’s no fucking way I could deny him anything. And besides, I don’t want to.

Draping myself over his upper body, I slow the movement of my hips a little, taking him even deeper as I grind against him. And when the orgasm breaks over me this time, it’s in one long, continuous wave that feels like it might never stop.

Elias groans, his cock jerking and pulsing as he comes too. His arms band tightly around me, pinning our bodies together as he kisses me.

I go limp against him, the high of adrenaline and arousal finally draining from my body, and as I feel his chest rise and fall beneath mine as his breath stirs my hair, I realize what a monumentally huge moment this is.

Declan and Elias didn’t just choose me over Gray.

They chose all of this.

They chose us.

An hour later, I’m still exhausted, every bone in my body heavy and spent, but I couldn’t feel better. I feel blissfully alive as Declan absently brushes the tips of his fingers against my bare skin, noticing for the first time that they’re rough, not smooth like Gray’s.

Gray.

My heart still constricts a little bit thinking about him. It might always do that. What we shared isn’t something I think I’ll ever be able to fully shake.

That doesn’t mean what he did was right though. It doesn’t make it okay.

I know that if I bent to his will and left the school like he wants me to, he would still follow me everywhere. Not physically, but haunting my dreams, my thoughts.

And I’m not going to let myself be used like that. Tossed around. Bruised. I’ve seen the world chew up and spit out the remains of people I care about, and I won’t let that happen to me.

The three of us lie on the bed in exhausted silence. I doze for a while, and when I wake up, Declan’s eyes are closed too and Elias is playing some game on his phone. He’s cute as fuck, lying in bed in just his boxers, his gaze intent on the screen. When he loses whatever level he’s on, he turns to me with a boyish grin on his face.

“Hey, Blue, wanna hear something?” he asks, pulling up Spotify on his cell before I have time to respond. “Check this out.”

Declan stirs beside me, blinking awake as Elias selects a song on his phone. When the opening chords play through the little speaker, I immediately recognize them, though I’m not sure from where at first.

That is, until a deep baritone voice I know all too well begins to sing.

“Holy fuck,” I murmur.

My gaze snaps to Declan, who’s wide awake now and suddenly looking very sheepish, the faintest pink touching the corners of his cheeks.