34. Beatrix
34
BEATRIX
G uilt clings to me. Even the hot water burning my skin as I shower can’t seem to remove it. I didn’t mean to trigger Knox. If there is anyone that understands unwanted touch, it’s me. If I’d known, I never would’ve…
Well, it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.
I cut off the water and grab the towel that hangs on the hook on the wall. Quickly, I dry off. I check the cut around my neck. It’s already stopped bleeding. Given how thin the red line is, I may not even scar. But it would serve me right if it did.
With a sigh, I head into my bedroom.
I half expect someone to be standing there waiting for me, like Sagan, but the room is empty. I’m not sure how I feel about this as I get ready for the night. On one hand, I’m relieved I’ve been given some space. It’s so rare to have these moments of solitude. But on the other hand…
Now that you think you're safe, Little Viper, you crave attention .
Sagan’s words come back to haunt me as I stand there. Is that true? Do I feel so safe now that I yearn for company, any type, as long as they don’t kill me? I shiver as I think about what transpired after those words. How his hands and mouth had forced my body to climb a peak and fall, over and over, until I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think… It had been a glorious torture.
Heat climbs up my neck and into my face and I don’t fight how my thighs clench together.
While attention would be nice, especially after a harrowing moment where my life had flashed before my eyes, I know what I need to do right now. Dropping the towel, I make quick work of pulling on soft pajama pants and a thin top. After dressing, I head to the bathroom and take the few minutes to part my hair down the middle and braid both sections. It’s such a habit putting my hair up like this that I don’t even really have to think about what I’m doing. My fingers move on their own until each braid is done.
When I slip out of the room, I head for the second flight of stairs. I need to talk to Knox. At the very least I need to apologize to him. And if he’s willing to explain, maybe I can learn where I can touch that won’t trigger that type of reaction again. We’d become more friendly toward one another over the past few days. I’d hate to lose what grounds I’ve gained with him over this.
I make it only a few feet out of my bedroom before freezing. Drifting down from the third floor comes a wail. The sound, coming through the closed door, gives me pause. Is that… Knox? I bite my bottom lip nervously as I stare up at the only door at the top of the second flight of stairs.
Knox has taken Patrick and my mother’s room. It’s the biggest out of all of the bedrooms in the house and comes with its own private bathroom. With great, sweeping views of the property from nearly every angle, it’s a great room to pick. But as great as it is and could be once cleaned up and renovated, it's also a room of horrors.
As another wail, one twisted with pain, drifts down to me, it sounds like the horrors have continued. A cold sweat breaks out along the back of my neck. That’s Knox! Is he ok? What’s going on? Does he need help? Is this like a mental breakdown caused by me? Where’re Thatcher and Sagan?
“I’ll just take a peek, and if he’s alone… I’ll let him be,” I mutter to myself. If he’s in this much pain from my touch, he’s not in a place to hear my apology.
Rather than take the next flight of steps, I slip around them and grab the large mirror leaning up against the wall. I shift it to the right ever so slightly. When I’ve moved it just enough so that I can see the paint drop cloth behind it, I rest it back up against the wall. Reaching forward, I pull the cloth to the side and step into the large hole in the wall.
The narrow space and darkness doesn’t bother me. It’s the sounds that come from the floor above me that do.
Using the tight space I used to frequent as a child to check up on my mother, I turn sideways and make my way through the narrow passage. My hands shake as I brush away the dust and cobwebs. When I get to the end, I use the wood and plaster to climb up to the next floor. Making it to the ledge above, I shuffle to the side where the wall opens up. Here, I can walk almost normally. The space between the walls is wide enough for my thicker hips to move without too much issue.
I round the perimeter of the bedroom room, aware of the groans and wails coming from the other side of the wall. There’s someone else in the room with Knox. I can hear a low, muffled voice as whoever it is speaks. I can’t hear what’s being said. But I’ll know soon enough. The space behind the wall ends, the bathroom blocking the rest of the path around the room. But I don’t need to go further. My feet slow as I turn and brace my hands against the wall. The two small holes, one beside the other, are at the perfect eye level.
As I peer into the room, I choke on a gasp.
There, in the middle of the large bedroom, Knox and Thatcher come into focus. My gaze lands on Knox first. Naked, with his hands bound behind his back, and on his knees, Knox is in the most vulnerable position I’ve ever seen him in. But while he whimpers and pants heavily with his cheek pressed against the floor, there’s a shaky grin shining through the strange muzzle on his face.
A muzzle? I blink rapidly, not sure I’m seeing things properly. It looks like one that Sandy Jenkins’s German shepherd used to wear before it got killed running across Main Street. It’s attached around Knox’s head with a leather strap and metal bars protruding about four or five inches away from his face. As far as muzzles go, this seems like a bit of an overkill for Knox.
The pearl necklace I gave him is an oddly glamorous contrast to the muzzle around his face.
With his hips up and the way he’s angled, I can see his back clearly. There are straight, long, red welts that crisscross against his skin that are raised and angry looking. My stomach lurches at the sight of them. As Knox breathes in deeply, I notice the short, braided rope that sits along his spine. One end is tied to a loop attached to the strap of the muzzle. The other end is knotted around a smaller hoop. This one is part of a stainless steel rod that is curling half way up Knox’s spine from between his butt cheeks.
What is that?
“You wear red so prettily, Knox.”
Thatcher’s words draw my attention to the Hunt in the room. Shirtless, I get to admire how sweat drips down Thatcher’s torso as he prowls in a wide circle around Knox. The rod he holds in one hand is twirled around in his fingers with skill only someone who uses it often would have. He reaches out with it, skimming the rod down Knox’s back and over the welts. Knox flinches, hissing as his face twists with pain.
“I’m pretty no matter what color I’m wearing,” Knox gasps then lets out a shaky laugh. “I’ll prove it to you. Make me black and blue.”
The rod moves so swiftly I don’t see it. But I hear the whistle as it swings and the sickening crack as it hits flesh. The sound it inspires from Knox makes me flinch.
“We can do this all night, Knox,” Thatcher drawls. He drags the rod over Knox's skin again. “But I have a feeling you want that, so here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to talk, or I’ll leave you here, tied up on this filthy floor for the night and then—this will be the kicker, Knox, so pay attention—I’ll wake you up early by touching you. You won’t be able to pull a blade on me then, will you? Not like you did with my sister tonight.”
“ Fuck !” Knox hisses, his playfulness evaporating. I watch as the muscles in his back flex. My breath catches. As thin as he is, Knox is clearly not lacking in strength. “Just the threat makes me want to kill you, Thatcher.”
There’s another crack as Thatcher brings down the cane on Knox’s back again without warning. Knox grunts.
“You could try,” Thatcher muses. The rod comes down three more times, swift and sharp, cracking against Knox’s skin until he lets out another wail. “But given your current state, I think I’m safe for now.”
Knox grumbles something, but having his face pressed against the floorboard stifles whatever he’s saying.
“Truth be told, Knox, this is a bit of a surprise. You know the rules, and yet here we are, playing games. It’s disappointing.”
The cane comes down over and over. It whistles through the air loudly, each smack against Knox’s back more sickening than the last. To his credit, Knox keeps relatively silent until the cane lands on fresh welts. Then it’s all over. His wails become near screams. Thatcher pauses for a moment to wipe the beads of sweat off his forehead.
“Fuck! Alright!” Knox sucks in a sharp breath and lowers his forehead to the floor. “I’ll talk.”
“I’m listening,” Thatcher rests the rod on his shoulder as he considers Knox before him. “I’m very much looking forward to hearing what the hell possessed you to draw your knife and attempt to slice my sister’s throat. It’s one thing to scream and thrash under our touch. It’s another to draw the blood of one of our own. Something really must be bothering you for you to do that.”
Knox doesn’t respond right away. He breathes heavily while he gathers his composure. When he’s breathing a little easier, he looks up at Thatcher.
“I’m conflicted,” he growls through gritted teeth.
“About…?”
“Starr Girl.”
My stomach drops. I hesitate before pulling away from the wall. I know what they say about eavesdropping. I’m not sure I want to be here for this conversation.
Thatcher sighs. “What about her?”
“It’s just… You know I didn’t want her around to begin with,” Knox admits after a second. My stomach drops further. “But… I don’t know. It hasn’t been terrible having her around, and that’s fucking weird to me. You know how I am with people and how hard it is for me to… Anyway, it’s uncomfortable, I’m uncomfortable with it. I feel like I’m going crazy or something.”
My stepbrother considers this for a second. “Let me make sure I understand. You’re uncomfortable because you’re comfortable around her?”
“Well,” Knox cringes. “When you say it like that, it sounds stupid. But yeah, I guess.”
Thatcher chuckles. “I think you see a lot of yourself in her and her predicament, and there’s no one you love more than yourself.”
“Fuck you,” Knox growls, though it’s followed by a weak chuckle.
“We’re getting to that part, Pretty Boy,” Thatcher assures his boyfriend. “Just think though, you were in her shoes once. You lived in a town like this one who treated you similarly, you had no one looking out for you, and you eventually turned into a killer.”
I feel like a few steps are missing there, but Thatcher doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he waits for Knox to say something. The man on the floor with a muzzle on his face and pearls around his neck doesn’t respond right away. He takes his time, mulling over Thatcher’s words.
After a second, Knox shrugs. “Eh, that’s a stretch.”
“Despite your similar backgrounds, you two are vastly different in your own ways. She creates a perfect balance in this family. You’ll adore her, eventually, as we have come to,” Thatcher says. “What’s that saying, again? Like calls to like? Now that we’ve got this sorted, can you control your mood swings? We need you in a good headspace.”
The muscles in my chest contract. My breath catches as my shoulders sag. Bracing my hands against the wall, I lean into them, feeling oddly lightheaded. They really do consider me family. Without me in the room, they wouldn’t need to continue any charades this could’ve been. The Hunt twins have truly accepted me.
I’m a part of a family… and I’m adored . Butterflies take flight in my gut.
There’s another whack as the cane comes down on Knox’s back. As the man on the floor cries out, Thatcher comes to stand in front of him.
“On your knees, Knox.”
With a grunt, Knox sits upright. His chest heaves as he pants hard. Inadvertently, my gaze drops to his dick that’s thick, red, and hard. It juts out between his legs, surrounded by neatly manicured blond pubes. Something around the tip of his cock glints, catching the light in the room just right. What’s that? I press my face against the wall as if that might help me get a better look. Unfortunately, it doesn’t do anything.
Knox and Thatcher stare at one another. The heat in their gaze is intense. My breath is stolen, and neither are even looking in my direction. Slowly, Thatcher’s fingers reach out to curl around the metal bars of Knox’s muzzle. Then, with a yank, Thatcher pulls Knox up to his feet in the same instant.
Knox’s cry is loud, and I have no doubt it’s due to the sudden movement and the thing sticking out of his butt. Thatcher’s smile is cruel and handsome, a beautiful nightmare, as he drags his prey with him while he walks backward toward the bed. When the back of Thatcher’s knees hit the mattress, he allows himself to flop down onto the edge of the bed. With another jerk of the muzzle, he pulls Knox back down. Knox yelps as his knees hit the floor.
“I want to feel that mouth wrapped around my cock,” Thatcher says in a voice that’s practically a purr. Nimbly, the Hunt twin removes the muzzle and tosses it onto the bed behind him. “This same mouth that should’ve told me all of this earlier.”
Knox chuckles. “You say it’s because we have similar backgrounds, but maybe this all started when your sister sat on my face. Maybe the taste of your sister’s pussy has me all confused. It was delicious, you know. What do you think? Maybe if I devour her pussy again, I can get a better read on her and how I feel about the situation?”
I gasp—remembering only at the last second to slap my hand over my mouth before they hear me.
God, the thought of Knox’s mouth on me again makes my thighs slam together as heat floods my core. I stare at his profile, all those sharp lines, and then at his skinny frame. His hair, wet with sweat, gleams in the poor lighting and the red welts on his back are all hard to miss. None of that makes him any less beautiful. In fact, it enhances his looks. Heat gathers in my face at the thought of those pouty lips on mine.
Thatcher pauses. The smug expression on his face disappears, leaving a completely blank canvas. Like this, I would never be able to tell Thatcher and Sagan apart. It’s eerie.
“Tread carefully, Knox. Don’t taunt me about the taste of her pussy, I know firsthand how delicious it is. Now, tell me, are you asking to play with my sister again?”
Knox’s snickers. “What would you do if I said yes?”
Thatcher doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his jaw works and tension brackets around his mouth. After a moment, the tension leaks away and a new, albeit more subdued, smile returns.
“It’s telling…” the Hunt twin says at last. “In any case, after tonight’s little performance of your naughty side, I highly doubt she’d want to play, so there’s no point entertaining this conversation.”
I’m not too sure about that. Right now, my thighs are pressed hard against one another and my face is growing warm just thinking about it.
“Judging by how hard that suggestion got you, I have no doubt you’d love to see it again though, wouldn’t you?” Knox doesn’t wait for a response. He simply nudges his head toward Thatcher’s crotch and says, “Well, you gave me a job to do. Let me show you how fantastic the back of my throat feels.”
Knox is just baiting Thatcher. He doesn’t really like me, nor does he have any real interest in me. His acceptance of me is begrudged at best.
Thatcher’s smug smile returns as he reaches down and pulls his erection from his pants. The heat that gathers in my cheeks spreads. It creeps down my neck, into my chest, and as Knox leans forward and takes Thatcher’s dick into his mouth, that same heat drops further.
“Oh…” I breathe, too soft for either guy to hear. A gentle throb starts between my legs as I watch the two of them. Thatcher reaches down and grabs a handful of Knox’s hair, weaving it between his fingers before shoving Knox further down onto his dick.
The sound of Knox gagging does something. I don’t realize how achy I’ve become until my fingers slide through my wet slit. When did I shove my hand into my pants? The thought comes and goes. I don’t care. My breath catches as my fingers caress the nerves and smear the arousal around. I bite my bottom lip as I use my body’s natural lubrication to toy with my clit.
Veins in Thatcher’s neck bulge. His teeth flash as he bares them in a snarl.
“Such a pretty mouth on a pretty boy,” he growls out. “But look at you, you’re just a filthy whore to stick my dick into right now, aren’t you, Knox?”
My fingers dip inside of me as Thatcher pulls Knox off his dick. My hips thrust instinctually at the intrusion. As Knox tries to catch his breath, Thatcher drags him onto the bed and throws Knox onto his back to straddle his face. The Hunt twin reaches down, grabs Knox’s jaw and pries the beautiful man’s mouth open to shove his cock into Knox’s mouth once more.
Why is this so hot? Knox groans around Thatcher’s cock, and I repeat the noise in my head. As Thatcher’s body moves, his hips dip down before rolling back. The motion chokes Knox but still, the blond man doesn’t seem all that put out. My mouth dries. The two of them together, one light the other dark—it leaves me feeling so hot. My body aches. My fingers move faster as my core clenches around them, desperation starting to fill me as Thatcher works toward his release.