Chapter 47 Hannah
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
HANNAH
The tears have slowed, the tightness in my chest has eased, but I’m still raw.
I probably will be for a few days because not even a spanking can remove the fact that my grandfather is actively trying to tear me away from the life I’ve always dreamed of.
He cares so little for me and my happiness, and that hurts far more than I’m willing to admit.
It’s not like anyone in my family has ever cared much for me. My mother always wanted me to be prettier, more perfect, to represent the family the way my last name demanded.
My father dipped out when I was ten, but I can’t really blame him for that. Knowing the underhanded bullshit Granddad likes to deal in, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was forced away. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt to have my dad disappear, never to be seen or heard from again.
And my grandfather, the patriarch of the family, he’s constantly ashamed of me.
He’s desperate for a male heir, someone he can hand his kingdom to and believe it’s going to be well taken care of, because obviously, there’s no way a woman could do it.
I internally roll my eyes at the absurdity.
But the truth is, I don’t want anything to do with Malone Enterprises. I never have.
In fact, there was a time in college when I considered changing my last name just so I wouldn’t be associated with it anymore.
I even went as far as looking into the process, but I decided not to go through with it at the time. Not because I was attached to the name itself, but because I figured I would eventually get married and change it anyway.
I’m pulled back to the warmth surrounding me when Rowan presses something sweet to my lips, and I open without argument.
The flavor bursts across my taste buds immediately, and a soft moan escapes without permission. How can they be so perfect as to have my favorite chocolate close for a moment just like this?
“What color are you at, Han?” Asher asks from behind me, his chin resting on my shoulder and his warmth radiating across my bare back.
There’s no chance I’ll ever be cold when these two are around.
Their body heat is more than enough to keep me toasty all year round.
“Green, Sir,” I whisper, my voice hoarse from crying.
I feel so much better without the weight of emotion sitting on my chest, but I’m ready for whatever they have planned next.
When I look up into Rowan’s eyes, he’s staring down at me with so much affection, my heart stutters in my chest.
I’d all but given up on anyone looking at me like this, but the reality is so much better than I ever hoped for.
“Are you going to be a good girl for us, Hannah?” he rumbles.
“I’m always a good girl, Sir.” My lips tip up into a smirk because everyone in this room knows that’s not true.
“Sure you are,” he deadpans.
Asher wraps his arms around me and lifts me from Rowan’s lap.
He carries me toward the bed. I expect him to toss me in the middle, but instead, he walks around the side of the huge mattress and positions me with my head over the edge and my feet near the bed head.
Once he has me where he wants me, he reaches toward the pile of things he brought in with him earlier. When I try to follow his movements, he tuts softly.
“Did I tell you to move, Hannah?”
“No, Sir.”
He hums as I allow my head to drop back again, just in time to watch Rowan strip out of his suit.
Sweet Jesus, I don’t know if I’m ever going to get used to seeing him naked.
The salt and pepper chest hair, the defined muscles that lead down to the most perfect cock I’ve ever seen…
He’s a work of art.
“You like what you see, baby girl?” he asks, catching me ogling him.
“You know I do, Sir.”
He chuckles and steps closer, his hard length bobbing with each step he takes. “You look so pretty spread out for us, like a perfect fucking feast for us to devour.”
As if to punctuate his point, he leans over me and swipes his tongue across the peaked nipple my lace bra is doing nothing to hide.
I’m so turned on that my panties are plastered against my aching center, and wetness clings to the insides of my thighs.
It’s not that past spankings haven’t got me going, because they absolutely have, but there’s something about being between these two men that has my body reacting like it never has before.
The mattress dips as Asher crawls across the bed, stopping once his bare thighs press against the side of one of mine, but I can’t see what he’s doing.
My view is blocked by Rowan’s chest as he laps at my other nipple, driving me closer to the edge.
I used to think women who could come without their pussy being touched were a myth, but Jesus, between my stinging ass and the friction Rowan creates by laving the lace covering my nipples, I’m starting to think it may not be as impossible as I once thought.
Asher lifts my hips and pushes something beneath them. It’s too firm to be one of the pillows we sleep on, but it’s soft and comfortable.
Once he has me where he wants me, he drags something cool up the inside of my thigh, sending a shiver through my body.
“Open wide for me, Little Doe.”
I spread my thighs, heat touching my cheeks at the idea of him seeing everything while I can’t see anything more than a very sculpted chest, and if I strain, a hard as fuck cock.
Okay, so maybe my situation isn’t quite as dire as I’m making out.
Asher continues dragging the item higher, and my breath hitches when what feels a lot like glass presses against my entrance.
I’m so wet, whatever it is will slide into me with little resistance, but the anticipation is killing me.
“We’re going to play a little game,” Asher says, his voice even as he drags whatever he’s holding through my wetness.
Rowan stands over me, his hard cock fisted in one of his hands as he gives it a few quick pumps. The sight alone has my thighs closing around Asher’s hand, needing something—anything—to take the edge off.
“Uh, uh, uh. None of that, Little Doe,” Asher growls a moment before his palm slaps across the top of my thigh.
He pushes my legs open again, his rough palms squeezing the soft flesh beneath them.
I used to be self-conscious of my legs, thinking I always had to keep them covered, but it turns out that had a lot more to do with the belittling I grew up with than anything else.
I’m starting to think it’s impossible to feel unattractive when either of these men has their eyes on me.
“Stay,” he rumbles, pressing the toy against my entrance again but not pushing it any further.
“What’s the game, Asher?” Rowan asks, his voice thick with the same need that throbs in my center.
“We’re going to see who can squirt first.” His smirk is so fucking sexy I can’t help but shift my lips. “If I make Hannah squirt before you come, I get to fuck her ass first. And if you come first, you do.”
The moan that escapes my throat is downright indecent, but who can blame me when two of the hottest men I’ve ever met are standing over me, talking about who is going to fuck my ass and making me squirt?
Jesus.
Is it hot in here?
Rowan chuckles. “You’re either overestimating your abilities or underestimating how badly I need to come all over Hannah’s pretty face.”