5. Rebel
Chapter 5
Rebel
Rage likes to talk big about responsibility and our duty to the bratva. I get it—the man’s spent over a decade climbing the ranks of power. When you’re in that deep, it’s hard not to be a yes man to whatever the boss asks. Running a club like Midnight comes from one of those yes, sir moments with our pakhan . It fronts as a VIP exclusive, sexy rager of a party, but we funnel various things through our clientele like drugs or dirty money. Rage thinks this place is our responsibility, a repayment toward the organization that took us in when we were unruly teenagers left to fend for ourselves.
But this man right here, the one knocking his fists into some other guy’s teeth, is the one I recognize. Not the guy who’s responsible and loyal and all that other boring shit, but the one who will snap someone’s neck for looking at us funny, who wields his body like the weapon he’s spent years at the gym creating.
Violence is a language of its own—and Rage is fucking fluent.
Our girl’s cheeks flush deep crimson as she stares at my older brother. I understand that, too. He’s fucking ripped on account of how often he pumps iron, building muscles in places that should be illegal. His dress shirt pulls across his shoulders with each swing of his arm, and it’s a shame that the damn thing won’t rip apart.
Because our girl? She’s salivating .
“Like what you see?” I tease, humming in her ear. Celia is wet as fuck , already drenching her panties. My fingers glide smoothly over her clit, and she gasps, clutching my forearm tightly. She shakes her head, sending a wave of her sweet conditioner into my face, and I inhale deep. Spending my evenings with her has given me a hard-on for all things Celia , including the fucking smell of her hair. What was the name of that bottle, again? Passionate Peach? I make a mental note to check her shower the next time I’m digging through her bathroom.
“He’s a— oh god ,” she keens, tossing her head back onto my shoulder. There’s this little divot between her eyebrows as she worries her lip between her teeth.
I chuckle as I press the flat of my fingertip against her clit, feeling it pulse. “Well, I wouldn’t call him that —it’ll go straight to his head.” She buries her face in my neck, but I click my tongue. “No, baby, you can’t hide. Not from this. Look. ” I have to remove my hand from her panties—a fucking travesty —to reach up and grab her chin. I turn her face back toward Rage so that we can watch the masterpiece unfold. “It’s a work of art, you know. The way he moves. Watch how he overpowers the other guy.”
Rage has flipped the man onto his back and stomped on his fingers, no doubt breaking a few of them, but what draws my attention isn’t the poor man suffering a beat-down, it’s the total domination my brother has over him. That’s what I want Celia to focus on, too. “Look at how strong he is, Celia. He’s a protector. He’s keeping you safe from bad men.” I nod toward Rage, watching as he kicks the guy’s side, likely bruising a vital organ or something. He kneels, pushing his knee into his victim’s chest to keep him pressed flat to the floor, and returns to punching the guy’s face. I’ll have to step in soon, but for now, I brush my fingers over the column of Celia’s throat, admiring how warm she is to the touch.
“He is the bad guy,” she chokes out, struggling to free herself from my hold. “That other guy wasn’t going to do anything.”
I scoff. “You can be pretty all you want, Celia, but you have to be smart. He was going to take you into the Playroom and fuck you raw even if you begged him not to. Is that what you wanted? Some random guy’s dick tearing into your sweet, soft cunt?” The thought of it makes my taste go sour. “He wouldn’t have cared if you said no or fought him off. I bet he has STDs too.” My lip curls. I have no idea if any of this is true, but it feels true enough.
Any man who isn’t me or my brothers is a threat to Celia’s wellbeing, and they’re fucking scum no matter what they do.
Celia shakes her head. “You’re wrong. The only man forcing himself on me is Rage.” A shiver runs down her body as she whispers a small and you.
This is the closest I’ve come to Celia’s pussy— ever. I’m nearly offended at the insinuation that my hand buried between her velvet thighs is normal for us, but, well, not offended enough to care. I haven’t asked Rage what he does when he visits her in the mornings, but I would know if he were fucking her. He’d have this post-sex glow that’s impossible to ignore by the sheer fucking magnitude of his ego. But I might as well ask—“has he fucked you, Celia?”
She squirms in my arms. “Not since that first night, no.”
Ah, she means the first time she came to Midnight. She wanted all three of us then—a drastic change to her attitude now. It’s like she got her first taste and decided we weren’t what she wanted after all. But that’s too fucking bad, because she made addicts out of the three of us. We can’t go back.
Neither can she.
Even if she denies it, I’ve seen the way she looks at me, like she’s one second away from jumping my bones. I like to think that it’s because of my charm and sex appeal, but I’d be an idiot to discount my brothers’ hands in her desire. Literally. If they’re getting her off without shoving their dicks inside of her, it’s no wonder the girl is cock-starved.
But if she had tried to fuck any one of us, we would have let her. So why the hell did she approach someone at the club instead?
“You know that this —” I dig my boner into her ass—“is all yours, baby. Why go after someone else?” I glare at the sack of meat on the floor. He wouldn’t get her off before himself, that’s for damn sure. It’s like Celia was trying to piss us off?—
Ah.
“It wasn’t about sex,” I realize, grinning. “You don’t actually want to fuck him.”
The relief I feel is surprising, but I don’t focus on it for too long. The man on the ground has stopped moving and groaning, which means it’s time for Rage to stop fucking his shit up. “Brother,” I call out, shuffling closer with Celia, “turn around. She’s right here waiting for you.”
Celia jerks her head back and digs her nails into my arms to try and pry me loose, but although I’m not as strong as Rage, I’m still stronger than her. I can hold her down just as easily as my brothers—or, well, close enough. They may have the muscles, but I have the stamina to outlast them all.
“I am not waiting for him!”
It’s like her voice breaks Rage out of a daze. He rises to his feet and turns toward us, his body coiled tight, and closes what little distance remains. His hands are the first part of him to touch our Beauty as he cups her face. The bruising along his swollen knuckles stands out against her honeyed skin. When he brushes his thumbs over her cheeks, he leaves smears of blood in their wake. He exhales harshly as he stares into her eyes, and without warning, he slams his body into hers— ours —and claims her mouth as his own.
She makes this outraged sound, but he swallows it down with a groan of his own. My arms are stuck between their bodies with no hope of pulling them free, so I do what I do best: I meddle.
“Let him in, beautiful. He needs you.”
Her body goes rigid, and I try not to roll my eyes. They’re both wound tight like they’re the ones fighting each other, when all they need to do is give in. My hands are locked in place, so I kiss the curve of her neck instead of running them down her body like I desperately want to.
There’s a creamy fucking pussy waiting for my touch.
“I know you like how strong he is,” I murmur, licking salt from her skin. “Touch him, baby, feel his strength. Put your hand on him.”
When she moves her arm, it’s a stiff, jerking motion, but her hand lands on his bicep.
“Good, now rub his muscles. They worked so hard to protect you.”
I know that Rage wasn’t in full protection mode like I’d told her—he was staking his claim as much as anything. Making a point to the club—and to Celia—that she’s off-limits. But in the end, he still saved her from a lousy-ass time getting fondled by some rich dude with too much pride and not enough sense. She has to understand that. We are here for her in every possible way, and I don’t even know what those all are yet. I just know that it’s true .
We’d do damn near anything for this girl.
I don’t think she’s learned that lesson, though.
Celia follows my instructions, however, rubbing her palm up and down Rage’s arm in these slow, hard, tense strokes, and as his muscles relax, so does her touch. Their kiss shifts before my eyes, becoming less like two walls slamming together. They soften in tiny increments, first with their touch, then with their kiss. He reins in some of his residual anger and softens his kiss, and she parts her lips to meet him. Her hand travels up his arm to his broad shoulders, and he slides his bruised fingers into her hair.
My cock is rock fucking hard wedged against her ass. I could cut diamonds with this fucking thing. A ripple of jealousy for my brother makes it hard to swallow, but I know I’ll get my turn. First, they need to work out whatever the hell is going on between them, or else Ruin and I don’t stand a chance.
Rage could ruin this entire operation before we’ve even started running with it.
For now, all I can do is encourage the two of them. “That’s it, baby, doesn’t that feel good?”
She moans, and god, do I wish it were for me.
They kiss for a few heated minutes, until finally Rage pulls away. There’s this dazed look in his eyes, almost like he hasn’t gotten enough sleep. Celia is heavy in my arms, and I push her into my brother’s. “Take her,” I tell him, “and be gentle.”
I don’t think he knows how to be gentle, but he needs to try. Just like she needs to stop fighting him so damn much.
The spell breaks over both of them the minute I release her, and she backpedals into my chest. “I’m not going anywhere with him,” she declares, an edge to her voice that I thought Rage had kissed out of her.
Rage responds in kind, his jaw clenching as hard as his fists. “Yes you are. You’re mine for the night.”
“I don’t belong to anyone!” Celia pushes away from both of us. “That’s the fucking point! I get to choose who I’m with, and I’m sure as hell not choosing the two of you!”
“It’s too fucking late for that,” Rage hisses, “because you already chose us. Or do you need a reminder of what that looks like?” All the tenderness in his gaze sharpens in an instant, the little lovestruck smile on his face replaced with something sinister. “Yeah, I think you do.”
Celia backpedals straight into our youngest brother, Ruin. She shrieks as she collides with his chest, suddenly blocked on three sides. I don’t know when Ruin arrived to our little party, but he appeared at the perfect moment, like he always does. The fucker has a knack for timing.
“Put her on her knees.” Rage snaps open his belt with a jerk of his wrist. “She can choke on my cock until the lesson sinks in.”
“You’ll blow your load before then,” I warn, shivering as excitement zings down my spine. It’s like electricity whenever Celia gets her mouth on you. I know for a fact that Rage will come way too soon if she puts in the work. Hell, even if she doesn’t. The man is strung so tight that an accidental graze might set him off.
But I know the look in his eye; this isn’t about busting a nut. It’s about the promise we made to each other, right here on the dance floor. Celia may not realize that she made a promise that night she declared she was ours, but she will after this.
As Rage unzips his fly and shoves his pants over his hips, he continues the micro-lecture he’s probably been practicing all day. “Promises are kept in this family, and you made a promise, krosotka .” He drops the waistband of his boxers beneath his ballsack, cradling both it and his cock for maximum leverage.
Celia’s eyes widen as she stares at his dick. I’m not sure if she’s seen it before, but she sure as hell is seeing it now. “I’m not part of your family!” She fights Ruin’s grip on her shoulders as he pushes her down to her knees, the thud of bone on hardwood loud enough to gather a few stares.
We had already attracted an audience with the sudden beat-down, but now we’re attracting even hungrier gazes. Since we’re right beside the Playroom, we also catch those leaving for refreshments or fresh air—meaning, all eyes are literally on us.
My blood pulses hard through my veins, making my cock twitch. Fuck. I want her to suck me off. Fuckfuckfuck. I study her position to see if I can snake my way into there, but between Ruin’s death grip on her shoulders and Rage’s cock smacking against her cheek, there’s little room for me.
A familiar grunt from over my shoulder makes me bark out a laugh on account of how surprised I am to hear it. My oldest brother isn’t actually Rage—it’s Thanatos, our half-brother. He’s the last person I expected to find down here. He hates the club. It was an act of God that he agreed to picking Celia up tonight. “Come to watch our pretty girl get on her knees ?” I lick my lips as Rage fists Celia’s hair and presses his cock against the seam of her lips.
She isn’t letting him in.
“She looks good, doesn’t she?” I hum appreciatively, palming my dick through my jeans. She always looks good, but on her knees like that, with a pretty pink flush trailing down her neck and across the swell of her tits? She’s a fucking vision.
If even Thanatos can see that, then all hope isn’t lost for him, after all. The perpetual bachelor is picky as fuck about his women. Says they’re too clingy, like he’s some kind of cat that only wants petted every few days.
Fuck that.
Celia can pet me all fucking day and night.
Finally, Rage breaks past Celia’s jaw and slides his cock into her mouth. He goes straight for the throat, making her eyes bulge. Shit, he’s going rough from the start. I spare Than a quick smile before stepping closer. If Rage keeps going like that, he’ll choke her until she passes out.
As I kneel beside our girl, I glance up at my brothers and admire the view. Rage to her front. Ruin at her back. Me, on one side, and Than on the other.
It’s not what usually constitutes as family, but hey, that normal bullshit is overrated anyway.
As Celia struggles to breathe, I brush my hand over her hair and tell her how good of a job she’s doing, and fuck, this whole scenario is gonna make me come. In two seconds flat, I’m convinced— nothing can top coaching your girl through swallowing your brother’s dick.
Normal is so fucking overrated.