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Flynn asked, sneering, body hammering Pam’s.
    Fuck yes.
    “No. Stop.”
    Flynn laughed, sharp and cold and his eyes darted to Laurel. “I saw the way you watched me tonight.” He looked back to Pam. “You were dying for this cock, weren’t you?” He pounded her fast, hips slapping her ass for a handful of violent beats.
    “Stop. Please, stop.”
    “You think I can’t feel how wet you are for me?” His body slowed, drawing his cock out, easing it back in, controlled and explicit and mocking.
    “Don’t, please.”
    “Shut your mouth, bitch. Shut up and get fucked.”
    “No—” Her protest was cut off by another hard smack of Flynn’s palm on her hip.
    “Shut your mouth.”
    Laurel gulped for air, lightheaded and breathless, assaulted by a hundred conflicting emotions. Her awareness flashed in and out of the scene, torn between red-hot curiosity and icy fear. Part of her wanted to run for the door, but she remembered everything she’d been told at the fights, about how women came to Flynn specifically for this treatment. There was consent, a core of respect buried inside the cruelty.
    She watched Pam’s arms jerk uselessly in Flynn’s grip.
    “Go on,” he said. “Struggle all you want. Just gets me hotter when you fight it.” With that, he let her hands go. He pulled out long enough to turn her roughly onto her back before grabbing her wrists again, pinning them to the floor as he shoved his thighs between hers. Even in the dim light, even with her black hair strung across her mouth and her face set in a fearful grimace, Pam looked unmistakably aroused. Her eyes blazed up at Flynn’s as she flailed her legs, kneeing his ribs as he tried to get his cock back inside her. Laurel felt her own arousal return threefold, felt the floor under her spine and Flynn’s weight against her pinned hips.
    “Hold still, bitch.” He flinched as Pam spat at him and Laurel saw his eyes narrow as though they were mere inches above hers. “You’ll fucking pay for that.”
    Pam gasped and jerked and Laurel imagined his penetration between her own legs, mean and merciless.
    “Yeah, that’s what you get.” He found a rhythm, graceless now, working against her thrashing body. “Harder you struggle, the harder I fuck you,” he warned. “Open your mouth.”
    She bucked and spat again.
    “Don’t piss me off,” Flynn said. He yanked at her wrist, making her back arch, making Laurel’s ache alongside it. “Do what I say or I’m gonna get mean.”
    She twisted under his hold and he yanked again and this time her body quieted.
    “Better,” he said. “Now open that mouth.”
    Both women parted their lips as Flynn lowered to kiss Pam, violent, hips still pounding. For a moment Laurel could feel his firm, wet tongue taking her mouth, then he jerked away with a gruff noise, released her wrist to touch his fingers to his mouth.
    “Fucking bitch.”
    Laurel watched Pam slap uselessly at his slick chest and stomach with her freed hand as he wiped the blood from his bitten lip. Flynn squinted down at his victim, hips going still, his face full of hatred so cold it made Laurel shiver from ten feet away. Without warning, he jammed his blood-streaked fingers into Pam’s mouth before moving the hand to her throat, pushing her head against the floor. Her assaulting hand froze between them.
    Laurel froze too, body so tight with arousal and adrenaline she felt faint. She tasted copper in her mouth and her throat closed up.
    Flynn’s next words came slow and dark and dangerous. “Now you’re going to do what I say. You understand?”
    Pam made a noise, strained but coherent enough to tell Laurel she could breathe just fine, that Flynn wasn’t actually choking her.
    “Right. Now you be a good girl and reach that hand down and touch yourself.” When she didn’t respond he seemed to tighten his hold on her neck. “Now.”
    She obeyed, snaking her hand between their bodies to finger her clit. Laurel ached to do the same, her