Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
VALLIE
Stage Two: Resistance.
He fucked me all night—during—and in the morning, though, I wouldn’t call what Dexter does fucking. It’s not so violent or crass; it is… forming. Creating a dynamic between us that sets our bond apart from others.
I feel different with each brother.
I know this isn’t normal.
But so fucking what?
On the way home, the morning sun warming my right shoulder, I sit in the backseat with Dexter’s hand on my lap as the driver pulls up to the house. I love this house so much more than my little unit, which is now leased to another young woman.
This house is everything I want for my family. Huge, yet homey. Lots of land to run, build, change, destroy, grow, rebuild—live. And the forest… Where we run, fuck, and heal.
Nervous energy suddenly stirs inside my chest when I see Donnie sitting, waiting on the front steps, a cigarette pinched between his teeth, watching our arrival through a serious gaze.
My heart races, seeing him in his easy attire, hip hanging jeans and a black tee-shirt with one sleeve folded at his huge bicep, pocketing a lighter or packet of cigarettes. Like it’s the 1960s, and he’s Danny Zuko from Grease … He never used to do that, but he doesn’t like leaving his lighter lying around because of Molly, so it ends up in his sleeve while he is smoking. It has only been a day, but we are never apart anymore, and my body literally hums to be held by him.
I do my TikTok’s at home. Donnie works in the spacious home office. Tyler parents Molly, drop-offs and pick-ups, dress-ups and arts and crafts. We are always together.
Donnie rises to his feet as the car stops.
Dexter squeezes my thigh. “Baby Girl?”
“I missed him,” I whisper honestly.
Dexter hums. “Go to him.”
Needing to show both brothers my feelings and send a soft message, I turn to Dexter, cup his smooth cheeks and kiss him.
His groan falls between my lips, working our mouths harder to the needy sound.
I taste him. Enjoy him. That smell, power, rich, calm. He starts to trail kisses across my jaw to my neck, confusing me momentarily with his attention.
I catch my breath as he showers me with kisses and affection. “Thank you for a wonderful night.”
He pulls from the skin on my neck. “And?”
“Thank you, Daddy, for finding me sexy.”
“It isn’t your decision.”
I smile and blush. “I know.”
With that, I swing open the car door and rush to Donnie. He is staring at me as I jog over, watching every little wave of my body, scanning me for obvious issues. Already ready to fix what might have been broken.
I almost laugh at him, predictable in this way. I collide with him, right into his arms. Tobacco. Smoke. Earth. Musk. Donnie smells so different to Dexter. He covers me in those thick, powerful arms and holds me to his warm chest, heart a steady base within, as though I were the one back from a stint in prison, and he wants to fuse together.
“Pup,” is all he says, but kisses my crown.
Grumpy bastard.
“Is Molly okay?” I ask immediately, resting my chin on his chest and gazing up at him. Tight, dark brows umbrella deep blue eyes that watch over my head, locked on Dexter as he takes his backpack from the trunk.
“It’s Saturday morning. She is on the couch watching cartoons like normal. Normal routine, except her mum not being beside her.”
Savage…
I swallow my sneer as I ask, “And Tyler?”
“Playing,” he states flatly. “Hasn’t stopped except once to try to squeeze his cock but couldn’t come. Poor boy.”
I nod, blinking slowly. “I’ll go see him.”
His arms tighten around me. “Not yet, Pup.”
A happy sigh leaves me.
“Okay,” I accept. Donnie’s feelings shine in the smallest of gestures, in the cracks in his actions. And I see them—I see him.
“Where is my doorman?” Dexter asks, approaching us with his bags.
“We let them all go, except one,” I say, my stomach gnawing at guilt—we changed things without telling him.
But I remember when we first brought Molly home, it didn’t feel right having so many men around.
Two lunatics are enough.
“We kept one housekeeper,” I perk up, hopeful that is enough for him. “I like doing things myself around the house. Molly likes to paint and clean, too. And we didn’t want strange men around Molly, given her life so far. Just us.”
“Brother,” Donnie acknowledges Dexter as he stops beside us, ready to move into the house and take his place. “After I fuck my wife, you and I need to talk.”
I feel my face glow red, and I bury it in his shirt, wondering what Dexter’s expression is, whether he understands, whether he thinks I’m a slut.
Surely, he doesn’t.
He knows I’m not choosing.
Doesn’t he?
“Baby Girl?” I take a big breath and half-peer at Dexter, immediately hit with a smooth smirk that buckles my knees. That melts me in his brother’s embrace. “Don’t hide your face. Own this. You have us wrapped around your beautiful finger. Don’t you dare feel shame.”
My chest balloons.
“Okay, Daddy,” I say just as I am hoisted over Donnie’s shoulder in a way that means business. I push off his back as he walks us into the house.
“Daddy?” Donnie questions, but I can’t figure out his tone. “Right. Dexter, sit with Molly. This may take a while. My Pup needs my bone.” He slaps my arse, squeezing until I yelp, and follows the corridors until we are in his bedroom.
Our bedroom.
A few powerful strides into the room, he throws me to the mattress, where I bounce a few times. “What did Molly have for dinner?” I ask. “Did she sleep okay?”
“Dress off now, Pup. On your back. Pussy open.”
“Rude bastard,” I grumble, but slide my dress over my head, unclip my bra and wriggle my knickers off.
“Look at you.” He stands, formidable and staunch, at the foot of the bed, analysing my naked body. “How many times did you let my brother come inside you? Hm?”
His words stoke my pulse. “Lots.” My lip quirks to the side, daring, matching the challenge. “What are you going to do about it?”
“ Whore,” Donnie hisses, possessiveness wrapping around each letter. “Dirty.” He pulls something from his pocket. “Little.” He removes his shirt and throws it into the corner of the room. “Whore.”
I have no idea how I stop my heart from breaking my ribcage in two when he lunges at me, but I feebly scurry backwards.
He catches my ankles, and I scream.
Excited.
Terrified.
I am always both with Donnie.
“You’ll see whose whore you really are.” He drags me back towards him.
I swing at him, but he snags my flying wrists and pins them above my head. “I like it when you fight. Reminds me of the first time.” Quickly hovering over me, he forcefully coils my wrists with something stiff but smooth. Leather, I think.
He fastens the other tail to the headboard.
What the fuck is he thinking?
“Stop it!” I demand. “This is crazy.” I pull on the ties that bite softly at the skin on my wrists. “Donnie! Let me go.”
“You think I would just let you go be a whore with my brother and not need to fuck my claim into you?”
I balance on the cusp of insane arousal, naked, skin flushing for him, and terror. He could do anything, and I would be utterly helpless… The thought alone makes me moan and writhe on the mattress.
What the hell is actually wrong with me?
I know, dark romance. That’s what is wrong with me.
He crawls up further, stopping so the crotch of his jeans hovers over my head. Glaring down at me, he pulls out his monstrously large cock. Hard. Angry. Pumping.
He wipes the smooth, hot head along my cheeks and lips, then possesses my jaw, forcing his fingers into the dips beside my lips, prying my mouth open.
“The fuck-whore opens nice and wide,” he growls, reaching up and gripping the headboard with one fist and feeding his cock down my throat with the other.
My eyes pop open.
At first, I try to breathe around his cock.
He doesn’t wait for me.
He cups the back of my head and starts to fuck my mouth as if I don’t need air, as if I don’t have a tongue, or anatomy. His cock slides down my throat with each thrust, loosening the tight column for him, making a channel.
“Oh, the whore is doing so good for me. Must have practised last night? Must be all loose from whoring.” Donnie stares down his lashes at me as tears rush in rivulets from my temples and pool in my ears. “That’s it. Cry for me, whore. Such a tight hole. I can feel your throat gagging, squeezing, but you’re nothing right now but somewhere to empty my cum. Understand? Oh… yes .”
He starts to fuck, really fuck. “Like that.”
Oh, God. This is a lot, even for what I have been through. He is out of his mind, feral with restrained possessiveness. I remember what to do, my mind catches up with my situation, and I inhale sharp, in and out of my nose. The air settles my heart a little.
Spreading his legs over me, he pumps in and out. “Is the whore breathing?”
My head nods on instinct, and he fists the back of my hair harder to stop me from moving, my scalp pinching, a little pain rushing across my skin.
I watch through a blur of tears that I cannot control as he takes my mouth relentlessly. Bucking his hips. Muscular thighs bracket my head as he stretches my throat with each inward drive.
“Did my brother fuck this hole?” he purrs, and my eyes roll when he reaches back to slap my pussy again. Once. “What about this one?” Before bringing both his hands to either side of my face and palming my cheeks carelessly. “Look at this wet, warm fuck-hole taking my big, angry cock.”
The heat in his eyes, the desire, the carnal need, but also a kind of anger, hatred, and depravity stir together inside me. I moan around his erection and squirm. I can’t help it. My pussy is throbbing. It is so uncomfortable. So, I suck. I suck him so hard; he starts to shudder and hiss.
“Suck me dry then, my pretty whore.”
I prepare myself to swallow as his cock fills my throat, pulsing, and he lets out a long growl. He is so deep; the hot spurts flood my mouth and pour out between my stretched lips.
I focus on my breathing and swallow what I can.
He squeezes my cheeks. “Whores swallow it all. Drink it in like nothing tastes better. My hot cum is all for you, Vallie. I don’t share it. Not with anyone.”
When he draws his cock out, I am able to swallow better. He rubs the hot, wet crown along my face, smearing more of his cum over my cheeks and lips.
“Unlike you.” His voice is depthless.
I frown at him. “Fuck you.”
He smirks. “Fuck me?” He laughs, but it’s dark and dangerous. “Oh, no. That is not what is happening here, Pup.”
He climbs from me without much consideration.
I pant ahead, wriggling my arse, creating a ruffle of sheets around me.
“What are you going to do?” The words come out more nervous than I want. Terror zaps me, concern fills me, and I suddenly need to get free. I fight with the ties at my wrists. “Let me go! I am not doing this if you’re jealous. We can just talk about it. You know how I feel about you, Donnie Vaughn!”
He grins, a cocky smile that curls around me, that ignores my pleas.
“I’m so fucking thirsty right now,” he declares, diving between my thighs.
He sucks me into his mouth, and my back arches against a scream I cannot withhold. Flailing around as he feasts on me, my legs jiggle by his face, unable to close or move much at all. The resistance of his pressure and dominance fatigues my muscles. I feel them burn as I fight.
“God, please .” I don’t know what I want.
Feeding both big, warm palms under my arse, he eats at me. Dips his tongue between my lips, swirls it around, but it doesn’t help the pressure. And he ignores my clit on purpose.
Bastard. Arsehole.
I buck, angry.
He groans and chuckles. “Taste so damn good, Pup. You squirt for my brother. Can I make the pup squirt?”
God, he’s jealous today.
He latches onto my clit, and a blanket of pleasure rolls from my toes to my eyes, where stars burst, dart around, and confuse me.
Maybe it is the ties at my wrists or the cruel detachment, but I might actually squirt for Donnie… If I let go—Oh. Feels so good. There. There?—
No! I promised Tyler it was for him. That no one else will make me squirt, but oh, my God. His tongue is relentlessly flicking, dead set on winning, on domination.
A buzz of sensation assaults me.
I cry out long and hard, writhing helplessly, coming violently, wetness gushing from inside me, soaking the sheets, while a tongue eagerly laps it up.
I hear deep groans of enjoyment coming from between my legs. I try to cup my forehead on instinct but hit the resistance of the ties.
Fuck.
I shudder as my orgasm slowly releases me. I didn’t quite squirt, but I did soak him.
I did come… a lot.
As I roll my head against the pillow, body squirming, mind hazy, I vaguely register that he is now ripping his clothes off, undressing with feverish haste.
Heat rushes along my body as he prowls over me, tongue trailing my skin until he reaches my face.
“ Mm ,” he purrs, “Whore smells good.” His hard body and hot, thick muscles contrast my softer body, making him even more overbearing. Dipping into my neck, he latches onto the supple flesh, as if to warn me, at the exact time as he thrusts upward into my still rippling sex.
I scream at the sudden invasion, and he groans, deep and long, against my throat as if enjoying my startled sounds.
“Whose cock do you prefer, whore?”
“His!” I bark. Lie. I don’t. I love them all, and he knows it. They are different, feel different, love me different, fuck me different.
“Liar.” He starts to fuck.
If I wasn’t so wet, his pace would be punishing. While my arms are suspended over my head, I feed my fingers together, needing to grip something as he uses my body.
Pumping in and out.
Taking me rough with need and obsession.
It reminds me of the first time together, terrifying and erotic all at once. If I wasn’t so fucked up, if I wasn’t so insecure my entire life because of my body, maybe I wouldn’t enjoy this level of possessed-fucking.
Maybe I would prefer gentle and hesitant…
But hard fucking that has no caution doesn’t allow my mind to play in insecurity. It doesn’t allow me to wonder if it is me or if he is unsure because he doesn’t like what he sees? Did he change his mind when I took off my clothes, but is too polite to offend me? Is he slow because he’s not turned on enough? Does he even find me attractive when I’m naked?
These toxic questions aren’t drowning me because Donnie is fucking my body like I’m the hottest woman alive, like nothing feels as good as mounting me.
Like my pussy makes him crazed.
Like my sweat is his brand of heroine.
Like I am the only thing he needs.
And that is why I love these deranged, fucked-up brothers, because they make me feel powerful in my submission to them. Donnie fucks the insecure out of me. Dexter removes my right to feel that way, and Tyler makes me feel beautiful and loved with obsession.
Donnie continues to fuck me into the mattress.
The wall behind the bedhead protests as he rockets forward and drags abruptly out.
I tug at my restraints. “ God , Donnie.”
“Who?” He growls by my ear, punishing me with a thrust that warns my insides of its depth.
“My husband…” I soothe.
“My wife is a whore. I’m barely controlling myself, Pup. I missed you. I missed you so goddamn much.” His voice rasps. “Fuck him in this house from now on. Fuck us all, but don’t leave again.” He growls, pumping into me as he shares his vulnerabilities. “I can’t fix you if you’re not here?—”
The room feels airless, steamy.
“I’m going to bruise this luscious pussy,” he growls, reaching up to grab the headboard, to angle himself, to take me deeper. “Remind my brothers that the whore comes home to me. Always.”
I lift my chin, burying my crown into the pillow, a deep, guttural sound vibrating from my throat, leaving my mouth enthusiastically as his big cock fucks and stretches me.
The sensation is electricity to my system, being used with utter disregard, stuffed and emptied, crushed beneath his weight, boiled from his radiant need.
I take everything he has to give me, everything he needs to work out, until my pussy swells with blood, spasming around him as I come.
He hisses.
“No.” The word punctures the air as he loses rhythm to his own climax. “I want the other hole, too. In case he was there. I need them all today.” He pulls out of me abruptly, my pussy closing around nothing, immediately swelling and sore. I moan, knowing what he is going to do.
The room is smaller.
The air thicker.
My mind hazy.
Vision a blur.
He grips the backs of my thighs and pushes them into my stomach, folding me.
“Arse open for me.” His cock is dripping with my pussy juices when he slides into my arsehole and pumps. “Fucking tight … Goddamn. ”
I am experienced in anal now, able to relax. His rhythm is slower and precise as he glares at his cock entering me. “Now all your holes remember me. Your husband.”
And God , he just keeps going.
“Who are you, Pup?”
“Your wife,” I gasp.
Minutes, hours—I don’t know—he fucks my arse, stopping before he can come, only to keep going. He doesn’t speak to me again.
He uses me.
I let him. Unravel him. Love him. Come home to him, always. I am closing my eyes, blacking out, when I feel his cock thicken, somehow swelling within my rim of muscles.
I blink, barely awake, utterly drained, but I want to see his release. As he drops his head back and unloads, he growls with relief, his hot breath mixing with the steamy air.
Leaving me breathless to behold such powerful energy, I close my eyes and moan with helpless abandon, losing consciousness to the moment.
Gripping my flesh harder, he keeps coming until it floods me, spilling around his shaft.
He slows his thrusts, gasping.
I don’t know what happens next…