Andre drove me to the apartment at nine, and I packed like a girl who had already been f****d out of her old life.
Two bags. The dress from last night, still smelling like them. I left the rest. Camille was in the kitchen when we got back, coffee, bare legs, his shirt. She took the bags out of my hands and put them in their closet, not the guest room.
“Key,” she said, and pressed a warm metal tooth into my palm. “Front door. Bedroom is not a place you knock. If we’re using you, you get used. If you want out, you leave the key on the counter. You don’t get a speech.”
I closed my fist around it.
They didn’t wait for night.
Camille bent me over the kitchen island before the coffee went cold. Andre watched, c**k out, while she ate my cunt from behind and pushed two fingers into my ass, st
