6. Celia
Chapter 6
Celia
A ringing in my ears drowns out the rest of the room. The whispers coming from all sides. The steady clicking of heels as people draw closer. The heat of Ruin’s hands on my shoulders, pinning me down. All at once, my senses go into overdrive and it’s like I can feel everything, from the bass pulsing through the floorboards to the heat radiating from the salty tip of Rage’s cock as he pushes it against my lips. The ringing helps—it gives me something sharp to focus on.
My scalp burns as Rage tightens his grip on my hair and thrusts his hips, scraping his cock against my teeth.
“ Open up, ” he grinds out, jaw clenched even tighter than when he found me with another man. In fact, that’s how I would describe Rage to anyone listening to the woman forced on her knees. Tighter. Harder. Crueler. Somehow, this rejection stings him even more than the first.
If it’s a game of egos that these brothers play, Rage is winning by a landslide.
The brief moment when we kissed— really kissed, without all the anger in the way—he seemed… different. Calmer. Gentle.
But there’s nothing gentle about the flash of his teeth as he bares them at me, or the yank of his fingers in my hair, or the smack of his cock against my cheek, my lips, my nose.
It’s humiliating, being on display. I don’t know how I found power in it before, because this?
This is cruel.
Rage hisses, bumping his cock against my teeth a third time. “Open up , Celia.”
I shake my head, ignoring the sharp spike of pain behind my eyes, and press my lips tighter together. Glaring at him, I hope he gets the hint.
Over my dead fucking body.
A shudder rolls down Rage’s spine, subtle enough that I barely catch it. He inhales once, quickly, and holds it. Seconds pass as we stare at one another, until finally, he licks his lips and rocks on his heels. “You taste good, you know,” he rasps, thrusting into the soft pillow of my cheek. “Every morning, you taste like peaches at first. Sweet and soft on my lips.” Groaning, he strokes his thick shaft with his free hand. “But then comes the cream . You get so wet for me, Beauty, and you taste even better at the end. Less sweet…” He bites his bottom lip as he strokes again, this time slower, punching the tip of his cock over my lips. “…more heat. You’re like fire on my tongue.” His eyes flash silver as they flick down to my thighs. “If I taste you now, I know what I’ll find, and it won’t be sweet .”
The scent of his arousal sends mine into a spiral, pooling between my thighs as something hot, liquid, aching. I burn from the inside out, the flush on my cheeks spreading down my neck.
Rage’s lips curve into a satisfied smirk, but he doesn’t say anything else, basking in his triumph.
He’s turned me on, and he knows my body’s tells.
My thighs shake, and I shut my eyes to block out the arousal pulsing through my veins. The ringing in my ears intensifies until it’s screaming.
Someone grips my chin and tilts my face up. Rage. It has to be him. His voice rumbles in my ears from all around, enveloping me. “Look at the man who owns you, Beauty.”
My eyes snap open with a gasp, and Rage plunges his cock inside my mouth. “That’s it,” he grunts, pushing the back of my head to lodge himself deeper, “let me in, and you’ll earn a reward.”
I glare at him as he fucks my mouth with short, hard thrusts and dig my nails into his thighs. He groans like the pain turns him on, not breaking his rhythm in the slightest. It strikes me then that he isn’t wearing a mask—and neither is Rebel. They aren’t concerned for their anonymity or their reputations, so why would they ever care about mine?
The truth hurts, but so does the way Rage pushes against the back of my throat, insisting that there’s more room for him in there. I shake my head as best I can, but Rage is having none of that. He stalls at the back of my throat long enough to make me choke.
Tears sting my eyes as I realize I can’t breathe.
Tipping my head back, Rage readjusts the angle so that his cock presses even harder against the threshold, seeking entrance where none have gone before. His jaw ticks, like he has a right to be angry about any of this.
A shadow shifts by my side, making me flinch. Rebel’s face comes into focus a second later, his touch gentle as he brushes his hand over my hair. “Let him in, beautiful. He needs you. Can’t you feel how much he needs you?”
Rage’s cock throbs against my tongue.
A whimper catches in my throat, blocked by the giant fucking dick trying to force its way inside. I can’t do this. I jerk my head back and forth, tears slipping down my cheeks. This is insane. I didn’t ask for any of this.
Promises are kept in this family, and you made a promise, krosotka .
These brothers are fucking delusional.
Rebel’s touch is soft as he palms my throat, rubbing it soothingly. “Let him in,” he coaxes, “relax your throat.”
I turn my glare on Rebel’s stupid fucking snakebite, wishing I could rip it out with my teeth. There’s no way in hell I’m letting in more of Rage’s?—
My eyes widen as Rage pushes , and in my desperate attempt to breathe, I open my throat and do the impossible: I let him in. It feels like something’s going down the wrong pipe, but Rage persists, cutting off my air as he bottoms out. Although Rebel’s palm massages my throat lovingly, Rage’s grip on my hair is painfully tight. One brother hell-bent on praise, the other on punishment.
Black spots dance in my vision. This is it. I’m going to die by dick asphyxiation. Sorry, Mom, I know you tried your best to raise a good daughter, but she’s gonna have the words Death by Dick engraved on her tombstone.
“Breathe through your nose,” Rebel murmurs, his eyes transfixed by the stretch of my lips around his brother’s cock. “You can do this. He needs you to, baby, or he’ll hurt you.” He turns a quick glare onto his brother. “The last thing we want is your pain.”
My eyes lock with Rage’s, and all I see is red. Specks of it on his cheeks. In the whites of his eyes. The flush crawling up his neck. If beating someone bloody wasn’t enough to prove to the whole world that I am his , then choking me on the his manhood will surely make his claim crystal clear.
This isn’t a man concerned about my pain.
This is a man who wants to own that part of me, too.
I smack Rage’s thighs with all my strength, which proves to be damn near zero, and scream as loud as I can. The dark spots in my vision turn into waves, and suddenly the pressure in my throat finally lets up. I choke on air and saliva as Rage pulls his dick from my mouth, my throat and eyes burning as I gasp in as much air as possible.
The oxygen rushes to my brain, and my resolve snaps into place. If this is a game of who can last the longest, I can win. Fixing my stare on Rage, I pop open my mouth and loll out my tongue, hoping it looks inviting.
His dick twitches hard in his hand, and then he’s punching forward to bury himself to the hilt again. Before he can shove it to the back, I snap my jaw closed, tasting copper on my tongue.
Rage’s groan is deep, tearing from his chest like I’ve tapped into something primal. A heated shiver rolls down my spine, pulsing straight to my clit. I swallow the mix of saliva and blood while Rage switches his grip and cups my face with both hands. “Can you taste it now, krosotka ? Can you taste my fire?” With another groan, he jerks his hips and dislodges my teeth. The bitter tang of metal fills my mouth as he fucks my face at a brutal pace, no longer digging into my throat but battering it every few seconds as he hammers inside my mouth.
My cheeks burn from his hot hands and heavy grip. My jaw aches from keeping it open so damned long. Spit drips down my chin and drops onto my chest. My pussy flutters like a damn butterfly, all hot and bothered and gasping for air. She’s drenched. Swollen to the point of aching. Needy. A whine catches in my throat as pleasure pulses through me, and if it isn’t already humiliating enough, Rebel hears it.
“That’s it, beautiful,” he coos, palming my heavy tit in his hand and squeezing. “It feels good, doesn’t it? Look at what you do to him. He’s falling apart for you.”
I can’t look. I won’t look. There’s some part of me that knows watching Rage come undone will unhook the latch keeping my baser impulses at bay.
I might start asking for the brothers’ dicks if it feels like this .
Hot. Achy. Needy. So fucking good.
Shame flares inside my heart, but not at what Rage is doing to me. Not at the crowd for watching, or at Ruin for holding me down, or at Rebel for thinking he’s doing me a favor by talking me through it.
The shame comes from how much I like this.
Rebel mouths the hickey on my neck as he slips his hand inside my dress and pinches my nipple between his knuckles. White hot desire pulses through my body. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. The rush of power from having a man so strung out that he has to have me and the distinct lack of power to stop it coalesce in a bittersweet paradox.
It’s heavy, hot, painful… but exhilarating. I’ve never seen so much red before, and as another drop of saliva slides down my chin and drops onto my chest, I imagine that it’s red, too. As dark as my nail polish, or as bright as the buckles on my new heels.
Maybe all Rage knows is red, so he paints the world in shades of crimson, claiming it one tainted piece at a time.
If there’s one piece of me he can have, it’s that piece—the anger, overflowing with so much red that it hurts.
I hate the way he makes me feel so raw .
From the way his eyes burn into mine, I know that he feels it, too. The hate. Neither of us can control how we react to each other.
In this moment, he’s a man possessed by a hunger he can’t satisfy on his own.
It’s just as Rebel said—Rage needs me.
His thrusts are animalistic, the sounds he makes matching the furious way he claims my mouth. I’m forced to breathe through my nose—a new skill I haven’t mastered—and pray that it ends soon.
Because as much as I hate him for doing this to me, I might hate myself for enjoying it, too.
My ex-husband was never like this. Passion was a word that neither of us knew inside our bedroom walls. We’d try—to spice things up, to have a baby, to make things click between us—but the sex was either too slow, or too dry, or too mechanical to get things moving in the right direction.
Nothing about Rage, Rebel, or Ruin is dry or mechanical. It’s instinctive, flowing through their veins as a part of who they are.
Animals. Fiends. Monsters.
They’re the opposite of what I’ve been told to look for in a husband. Of the kind of men who protect and serve and secure. Good men of faith and family. The kind you can take home to your mother on the first date.
Then again, maybe I’m not the kind of woman you should take home to meet the family. Not anymore. These men aren’t dating me—they’re devouring me.
There must be a reason for that.
Rage’s eyes spark like embers trying to ignite, and I can taste it. The fire. His cock swells against my tongue, the salt of precum making me tremble. He makes this sound in the back of his throat, a soft moan that no man his size should be capable of, and satisfaction thrums through me like the first hit of a heady drug claiming its next addict.
I did that.
My body satisfies him in a way that others can’t. He chose me for this, not any of the countless other women in the club eager to sit on his lap and ride him until dawn.
A switch flips inside of me, and I wrap my palms around his muscled thighs and drag him deeper, hollowing out my cheeks and sucking .
My ex would have shut his eyes by now, but Rage’s jaw unhinges as he stares at his Beauty. He buries his fingers in my hair but doesn’t force himself deeper this time, allowing me to work his length my own way. I suck on the tip, flicking my tongue beneath the head. Then I bury him in the pocket of my cheek, testing his size before wrapping my palm around his spit-slicked shaft and stroking.
When he moans, I do the same, pulling him deep again.
Broken Russian phrases fly past his lips and with three short thrusts, he swells to bursting, shooting jets of cum against the roof of my mouth, covering my tongue, filling me so full that I can’t hold it. I pull back, and the floodgates open. Cum coats his cock and slips past my lips, sliding down my chin. I can’t swallow—never have—and my failure stains my skin with his seed.
“Oh, no,” Rage rumbles, catching my chin in his iron grip. “You will swallow, or I will push every last drop inside your pussy.” His cock twitches with anticipation, another bead of cum leaking from the tip.
Ice cold dread pools in my gut, making me shiver. He came inside me last time. It was a huge mistake—one I had to rectify with a trip to the pharmacist the next day.
Having Rage’s cum—or his brothers’—anywhere other than my mouth will be a big problem.
But Rage catches my shiver and his smile spreads into a grin. “You like that?”
My eyes widen. Oh, no. I shake my head and swallow the half-load still inside my mouth.
He latches onto the idea, though, still grinning as he collects the spillage from my chin onto his finger and crudely scrapes it back onto the tip of his cock. “Does the memory of my cum warming you up make you hot?” He holds the base of his shaft while I stare at the cream meant for me. “Or is it the thought of my baby inside of you that you like so much?”
I don’t answer— can’t answer —because I’m frozen shut. My heart, my lungs, all of it shutting down at the mention of a baby.
There’s nothing I want more than a beautiful baby of my own.
But there’s nothing more terrifying than having Rage as the father.
Thankfully, he doesn’t press the subject, already tapping the tip of his cock against my lips. “Open up, krosotka , and accept your gift.”
I move mechanically, all of the excitement and tension from earlier disappearing in a heartbeat. Wrapping my lips around him is easy, but swallowing is harder. He rolls his cock around my mouth to get it nice and wet, then squeezes and gives himself one long, final stroke to get as much of his cum into my mouth as possible. A tear slides down my cheek as I obey and swallow, trying not to gag as I feel it sliding down my esophagus.
“Next time, I’ll make a direct deposit. Right here—” He palms my throat lovingly—“or here. ” He presses the flat of his other palm against my stomach, pressing down firmly. A shudder rolls through him, but he keeps his eyes locked on mine the entire time.
There’s a fire in their depths, burning hot enough that it ignites the ache in my soul.
“That wouldn’t be so bad…” he murmurs, brushing his lips over mine, “would it?”
I swallow hard, knowing that if I’m not careful, I’ll give too much away. If Rage finds out that I want a baby, he’ll do everything in his power to give me one.
Of his.
“I don’t want to have children, Rage.” The lie feels like shrapnel burrowing inside my soul, scoring deep enough to bleed eternally. “I’ve never wanted to have children.”
His lips press into a firm line, still close enough that I can feel it. “That’s too bad.”
My exhale rushes from my lungs as soon as Rage pulls back. Thank God. It worked.
“I’m planning on having many children, and there’s only one woman I’d ever accept as their mother.” Rage’s cock is still out, thickening the longer I stare at it. A weapon . That’s what it is. Threatening to give me everything I’ve ever wanted— at a price.
The scariest part is, if it comes down to either having Rage’s baby or not having a baby at all, I might be willing to pay it.
I might become his after all.