The Devils and The Duchess (Verona Falls University, #1)

by Marissa Farrar

It occurs to me that Dom and I might have more in common than we’ve given ourselves credit for. We’ve both lost parents we loved at the same time in life. Maybe it’s not the nicest thing to bond over, but it’s something.

My blood runs cold. Better angle? I’d wondered what he’d meant at the time but had brushed it off. Now I understand. The position he put me in makes it so the camera is in a perfect position to show my pussy, my legs spread, my ass up in the air like a dog in heat.

“You knew,” I spit at the screen. “You motherfucker. You knew you were filming me. That’s why you changed my position, so the camera would capture every detail.”

I’m raging. How fucking dare he? Not only filming me without my permission but then giving me the footage as a birthday g...

When I reach the farthest end, I see the big double doors ahead. They have old stained-glass windows in them, and a red glow lights up the glass, giving the place a hellish vibe. Fitting.

Pushing through the doors, I shove my phone into my pocket and prepare to give them a piece of my mind. Nothing could prepare me for the sight in front of me. I should turn and run, but I can’t. My legs won’t move.

On the screen is me. My pussy, to be exact. They’re all watching Tino’s perverted little show. Worse, they’re jacking off to it, together. They’re so focused on touching themselves that they barely seem aware of each other. Holy hell, these men are despicable.

Them masturbating to that film tells me that all three of them are imagining fucking me right now.

I don’t want to feel it, but heat pools between my thighs and my clit tingles with a rush of blood engorging the area. I press my legs together, increasing the sensation. It feels dirty and wrong, but these are three gorgeous guys—no matter what fucking perverts they might be—and I’m still a hot-blooded girl.

I picture myself striding into the center of the room, stripping off my clothes, and getting on my hands and knees in the exact position I am on screen. I’d let each of them take their turn, let them...

No! Stop. What the fuck am I thinking? I push the fantasy out of my head. This is so fucked up. I never gave Tino permission to film me, and I certainly never gave him permission to share the footage with his friends. I can’t let this go on.

“What are you all doing? Have you lost your minds? You’re disgusting. Perverts. Sickos.” “Weirdos,” Dom says, taking a pace toward me. “Troublemakers,” Tino adds and steps nearer too. “Freaks,” Kirill says and pushes off the sofa, heading toward me. “Devils,” Dom whispers.

I shiver and belatedly realize something. These men aren’t normal students. They aren’t good guys. Or even slightly bad guys pretending to be good. They’re flat-out psychopaths, and I’m alone in a room with all three of them.

“Are you going to run?” Kirill asks me. The way he asks that question makes me want to throw up. So casually interested as if I’m a science experiment. “What if I am?” I try to keep my voice from shaking. “We’d like that,” Tino says. “We like to chase pretty things.”

“Oh, there she is.” Dom claps his hands. “The Duchess is back. That frosty, entitled air that our poor little urchin does so well.”

God, I hate him so much, I want to strangle him.

Another lie. I hurt a man. Hurt him so badly that I ended his life. But that didn’t mean I enjoyed it.

“You said no, Duchess. So, I won’t make you show me your pussy.” He is still rubbing me, the friction insane through the denim, and I’m trying not to show him how hot it has me. “I won’t lick it and taste it. I won’t make you come and send you back to bed all wet and hot but satisfied.”

He slaps the front of my pussy twice, and laughs. “You can go on back to your bed all needy instead. When you’re there, think about me and the things I could be doing to you.”

I reach between our bodies and grab his cock—he’s already hard again--squeezing it. “You can go to bed alone tonight and think about me. Think about the fact that both your weird friends have had a taste, and you never will.”

“I’d like to crack her wide open before she leaves.” Tino licks his lips. “I want to break her into tiny pieces, so small she can’t put herself back together again.” My hands curl into fists. “Metaphorically, you mean?” Kirill asks. “Yes, metaphorically, you stupid cunt. I don’t cut girls up and put them in suitcases.”

“There are plenty of other girls for you to mess with.” “None like her, though. She’s got this innocent look going on, but when she gets down to it, she’s as filthy as a whore. Honestly, a guy could get used to having that sweet mouth around his cock.”

Why am I feeling this way? We always share women, and I’ve never been jealous. Maybe it’s because they’re not sharing. They got the chance to taste her, and I didn’t.

What is it about this girl? My pretty little soon-to-be stepsister. My cock jumps at the thought of us being related. My stepsister. Fuck, how I love the thought of that. Of being able to degrade her while calling her my little sister.

I long to put my cock inside her. How hot and tight and wet she’d feel. I imagine her waking to me fucking her, the look of shock on her face. I’d clamp my hand over her mouth so she couldn’t scream and keep taking what I wanted. I know soon enough she’d give in to the pleasure and open herself wide to me.

I turn my thoughts back to my practice. I need it more than ever now. I have to stay calm and relaxed. Being Zen is important to my health, which kind of seems like a joke considering the madhouse my life has turned into.

That’s the other reason for the shame. Deep down, locked away in a dark filing cabinet in my psyche, I want them. All three of them, and I’m scared of what that makes me.

I’ve slept badly for the past few nights, and it’s because I’m a needy mess. I’ve never found myself so turned on. I keep waking from erotic dreams of the three of them doing depraved things to me. Some of those dreams have gone to very dark places, and I’m not sure if my inner psyche is okay. She seems to be having a moment.

Don’t be distracted. Focus, son. The only person in this world who matters is the fucker in front of you.

One half of the crowd is chanting my nickname: Kill-Kill-Kill-Kill… Some might think that I’ve gained the nickname because it’s a shortening of my real name, but that’s not the truth at all. It’s because I’m a cold-hearted motherfucker who won’t hesitate to take out someone who is in my way.

Unluckily for me, my focus is shot. Dom wants rid of Mackenzie, and while I shouldn’t care, I don’t want her gone. I want that girl to stay around. I’ve had a taste, and now I want so much more. In fact, I want the three of us to take her, me last, so I get her full of cum.

Kukla. My pretty doll. In the glen, she was my tear-stained doll, and then my cum-covered doll. I don’t want Dom to chase my doll away.

No one gets to look at my pretty little Mackenzie doll that way unless it’s one of my soul brothers. One of my fellow Devils.

I hate the thought, and a possessiveness I’ve never felt before roars through me. Gritting my teeth, I growl low and feral, and rear back with my fists before pounding Louis in a brutal, one-two hit.

Normally, I don’t go for the face. With my strength, I don’t need to. I can break a few ribs and put my opponents out of any fights for a couple of months. This time, though, I don’t sugarcoat it.

“That’s going to be a costly plastic surgery bill, there, Louis.” Vladimir shakes his head as he pushes me away and then leans down to help Louis up. “Next time, remember that a pretty face isn’t worth losing your nose for.”

“Mackenzie, this is a…specialist college. The families here are all from very old money, and none of them got it legally. Some of the biggest organized crime families in the world have sent their children here. It provides an education, and it’s also a charity.”

Oh, my God. The reality hits me and the room spins. I yank my hand out of her grip. They launder money here. They send their kids, these crime families, and the boys get taught to fight and the girls are taught history and literature and how to cook and behave like proper little ladies. And all the while, their dirty money gets cleaned.

“This is a fucking mafia college?”

“We are our own Camelot. Our own royalty.”

“You think I want to be here?” I throw back at him. “I hate it here. It’s an amoral pit of venom.”

Out of control. This is out of control. I’m out of control. I need to stop. The trouble is, I don’t want to.

He tastes of heaven and hell all rolled into one. This is the man I hate, but I also crave him in this moment.

This is insane. I’ve lost my mind. I’ve most certainly lost my morals. How did I end up in this literal den of iniquity, giving myself to the king devil himself?

“Who the fuck have you been using condoms with?” “None of your fucking business. I can fuck whoever the hell I like.” “Not anymore, you can’t. You belong to us now.”

How sick in the head am I that I like the fact he’s got my face pushed into the mattress and my ass in the air.

He slides in smooth and easy, probably because I’m so damn wet. I don’t want smooth, though, and I don’t want easy. I want him to fuck the emotional pain out of me. I want him to chase the demons away. Right now, the way I feel, I’d go into that stupid fight ring they have out there and throw punches. I can’t. So, if I can’t fight, then I might as well fuck.

With Tino, a tiny part of me felt like an object, somehow. Like I could almost be any pretty girl. With Kirill, the whole thing felt like a dream. This feels like one of the most raw and real moments in my life. We don’t look away from one another.

“No, don’t wipe it off. You’re mine now. I’ve blooded you, the way hunters do after a kill.”

“Next time, no condom. I’ll show you a certificate of clean health. Kirill and Tino, too. I want to see you full of us all.” “No.” I sit up, running my fingers through my hair in panic. “I’m not your fuck toy, Dom.” “No, you’re our prim and proper Duchess, who we get to desecrate.”