Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
STEFANI
Dinner is quiet, and I know I'm the reason for it. Cutter and Dash keep sneaking glances at me, their eyes landing on me every few minutes before sliding away again. They don't ask anything, but I know they are dying to.
I've told them almost nothing about my father—my sperm donor—and they've never pretended to like the little they do know. So I have no idea how they'll react when I tell them I'm meeting him. Even thinking about saying the words out loud makes my stomach twist.
I wipe my mouth and start to stand up, but Cutter's hand comes down on the table with a sharp, commanding thud. "Stop!"
That one word paralyzes me. He's never spoken in such a commanding voice as this. A chill runs up my spine, but it's not out of fear. The throb that begins to ache between my legs is all too familiar.
I lift my eyes to meet his dark ones, and I wait.
"You're hiding something, Kitten." It isn't a question.
"Daddy, I don't know—"
His voice cuts through mine. "Are you about to lie to me, Kitten?"
"No. I wouldn't…" But I can't finish the sentence because then it would be a lie.
His chair scrapes on the hardwood floor as he stands. Cutter takes his time as he rounds the table, stopping right in front of me. His hands settle on my shoulders.
"Now, Kitten… don't make me punish you," he murmurs, his voice low and raspy. "Talk to me. Don't make me think you're shutting me out."
"Please, Daddy…" The words slip out before I can stop them.
His fingers tighten on my shoulders. "Please, what?" he asks through gritted teeth. "I love hearing you beg."
"Please… let me go," I whisper.
Cutter leans in, his forehead nearly touching mine. "Never."
"You're not going to win, Kitten," Dash says, amused.
I don't look at him. My eyes stay locked on Cutter.
He's patient. I know this. I also know that what Dash says is true. I'm not going to win this. Not when they can read me better than I can read myself.
I take a slow breath, swallowing against the tightness in my throat. My pulse hammers as I brace myself to say something I already know they won't like. The thought of disappointing them makes my chest ache.
Dash joins Cutter. He moves behind me, slipping his hands around my waist. "Come on, Kitten," he murmurs near my ear, his tone coaxing, not demanding. "Be a good girl and tell us what's bothering you." His voice softens more. "We'll make you feel so much better once you get it all out."
I give up the fight. All the tension drains from my body all at once, and I sag against Dash's chest.
Cutter's hands slide up to cradle my face, his touch gentle despite the seriousness in his eyes. He presses a soft kiss to my lips. "Talk to us, Kitten."
"I…"
"Tell us, baby," Dash murmurs, his thumb brushing slow circles over my stomach.
I close my eyes and draw in a shaky breath.
"My father wants to meet with me," I finally confess.
I see Cutter's jaw tighten—just for a second, maybe two—before it smooths out again. Then his lips curve upward into a slow smile.
"Was that so hard, Kitten?" he asks, lifting a hand just to trace a finger down my cheek.
I lean into his touch without thinking.
Behind me, Dash moves closer, his hand sliding downward and slipping into my leggings. "Come on, Kitten," he murmurs against my ear. "You told us the truth. Let us make you feel better." Dash starts nibbling on my neck.
My legs open automatically for him, and he slips two fingers inside me. Cutter leans in and captures my lips in a deeper, lingering kiss. Dash's breath grazes my neck, sending a shiver through me as he presses closer, his hands guiding me back against him.
Things are just heating up—Cutter's mouth claiming mine, Dash's fingers working their magic—when my phone buzzes on the table with an incoming message.
I'm in no state to look at it, but Cutter reaches for it without breaking the moment. He glances at the screen.
His entire expression changes.
"That son of a bitch!" he snaps, his hand tightening around my phone.
"Who is it?' Dash asks, never letting up as his fingers plunge in and out.
I'm so wet that my pussy squelches each time. He shoves them in further—deeper—when he hears my moan.
"It's the mayor," Cutter growls, staring at my phone. "Demanding his daughter's presence at a luncheon tomorrow. Says she's supposed to meet her future husband."
I gasp—not from Dash's talented fingers, but from the sheer audacity of it. My sperm donor, deciding my life like he has any right.
"Is that right?" Dash murmurs behind me, his voice low and coaxing, his hand picking up speed. "Who do you belong to, Kitten?"
My breath stutters. "I… I belong… to you and Daddy…"
"That's right," he says, his tone dark with satisfaction. "So what are you going to tell Daddy Dearest when he tries to hand you off to someone else?"
"I…" The word trembles out of me.
Cutter steps closer, gripping my hair gently but firmly, tilting my head back so I have to look at him. "You what, Kitten?"
"I'll say… that I won't marry him," I whisper.
"And why won't you marry him?" Cutter presses.
"Because I belong to the two of you."
Dash's voice rumbles behind me. "Exactly. You're ours. And your father doesn't get to decide your future." He doesn't stop there. "Not only that, but you will marry us, and we will be the ones to fuck our baby batter into you and watch you grow with our offspring."
"Yes," Cutter agrees. "We're going to fill this pretty cooter cavern with so much jizzy juice that you will be knocked up in no time."
Their filthy words reach the parts of me that they were meant for, and I surrender myself over to them. Body and soul… It's theirs for the taking.