They thought I was asleep.

But I heard them-low groans, the wet slap of skin, the whispered filth that made my whole body tense under the covers.

I should've stayed quiet. But I didn't. I watched. I shoved my hand down my boxers.

And when they caught me... they didn't stop.

One of them pinned me down. The other got behind me. And when they both slid in-deep, slow, unrelenting-I understood exactly what it meant to be owned.

They called it being the Lucky Pierre.

But under both of them, gasping and wrecked, I didn't feel lucky. I felt used. Full. Ruined.

And I wanted more.