11. Conrad
I can hear the noise of the party, the music, the laughter of all the people that will make this evening with my fiancée just about bearable. Only, instead of joining them, she guides me away from the fun and up the stairs to where the house feels far too quiet.
Surely, she can’t be angling for me to fuck her before our wedding night? Because she knows what would happen then, that I’d have proof of her impurity, that I could shirk her off, and there’d be nothing she could do to stop me.
I wrinkle my nose, trying to decide whether fucking her now would be worth the freedom. One moment of sacrifice to give me a lifetime of freedom from her? I guess when you put it like that, it could be worth it.
And besides, I can close my eyes. I can imagine that it’s someone else, someone I want, someone desirable. Cunts all feel the same anyway. Although I imagine this bitch makes enough noise for me to know exactly who I’m balls deep in.
She stops in front of a door, opening it wide enough for me to get a good look inside, and my eyes widen as I see who is there.
Brynn is laid on the bed, her limbs splayed as if someone has deliberately positioned her in the most vulnerable way they can.
I take a step forward, frowning in confusion while my thoughts whirl.
Why would my fiancée of all people bring me in here? What possible gain could she have from this?
Giselle’s hands wrap around me, those tentacle-like nails skimming down my shirt. “I thought we could make a deal.” she murmurs into my ear.
“What deal?” I grunt back while it takes everything I have not to shake her off.
She turns me around, and it’s only because I need to stop looking at her niece like that, that I allow her to do it. As she reaches up and cups my face, she smiles sincerely.
“We are engaged, soon enough we will be husband and wife. Let’s not pretend that this is a love match yet but it will be, once you realise what we can have, how we can be. The true potential of it all…”
“What are you talking about?” I snap. Patience has never been a family trait and it certainly isn’t one I’ve learnt over the years, not with Magnus as a brother, not with Devin either.
“You want her.” She says, glancing at the lifeless girl over my shoulder. “I’ve seen the way you watch her, the way you react. It’s okay…” she says, planting a finger on my lips as if I was going to deign such a declaration with any kind of meaningful response. “You can have her, you can have whoever you want. That’s the point. That’s what I’m offering. I’m a Monclere, you’re a Blake, together we can have greatness and that’s my offer to you, my wedding gift.”
“You want an open marriage?” I snap. Like fuck I’ll agree to that. Does she think I’ll turn a blind eye to her fucking whoever she chooses? I might need an heir, but I sure as fuck will not pass someone else’s brat off as my own.
“No.” She smiles. “I want you. I want this, us, and I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to ensure I get it.”
My mind seems to spin. I stand there, speechless for what must be the first time in my life.
“You can have her,” she says, again. “Have my niece. Fuck her, use her, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter what you do, as long as you and I walk down that aisle together.”
Fuck her? Seriously?
I shouldn’t do it. A better man would object, would pretend, would deny the fact that they’ve been lusting after the girl, but why should I? Why should I lie when she’s offered up so damned easily?
I turn, shrugging Giselle off and close the distance between me and the bed.
Brynn hasn’t moved. She’s lying there, eyes shut, soft breaths escaping her lips as her chest rises and falls. She looks so peaceful. So unbelievably beautiful.
I brush my fingers over her face, pushing all that brown hair back so that I can see her features fully.
“She’s been drugged.” I state.
Giselle drops to her knees beside me. “Yes,” she says simply.
“Because she didn’t agree?” I ask.
Giselle smirks, and those bright red lips streak up her face. “I didn’t ask. It doesn’t matter what she wants, you want her and I want you. If this is what seals the deal, then who cares what she thinks of it? She’ll wake in the morning, completely oblivious.”
I frown, feeling my stomach twist. Not in guilt, not in concern, but because I want Brynn to remember, I want Brynn to revel in what I do to her body, I want her to leave this room, desperately needing me to fuck her again. To be as obsessed by me as I am of her.
My hand skims up the length of her thigh. She’s wearing a little silk sundress, one I know she wouldn’t have chosen herself. As I push it up over her hips, I see the slutty underwear she’s got on. Did her aunt choose that, too? Has she really been dressed up like a doll just for me to play with?
My dick comes to life at that notion. That she’s my doll, that she’s been laying here, waiting for me.
“Leave.” I say quietly.
Giselle shakes her head but she moves back, moves into the shadows, giving me space. “I watch. That’s also part of the deal.”
“You want to watch me fuck her?”
“Take it or leave it, Conrad,” she states, folding her arms.
Fine, she can watch. What difference does it make anyway? I know once I’m balls deep, I won’t give a fuck what my fiancée sees.
I reach forward, rolling the girl onto her front and unzipping the dress. I don’t mean to be rough, and yet the zip catches enough that her whole body jolts. For a second, I wonder if she might wake, if this is all some trick but she just lays there, and it suddenly sinks in that this is happening. This is real.
I grow impatient then, more impatient. I practically rip the dress up off her arms, exposing that beautiful body beneath. Her breasts aren’t huge, but they make my mouth water all the same. I grab one, kneading, massaging, feeling the nipple come to life beneath the soft sexy lingerie she’s wearing.
That’s my girl. That’s right, show me now that you want this, prove that you’re as desperate for me as I am for you.
The bra comes off first. It’s too lacy, too covering, too damned annoying. Her nipples are round, small, a shade of pink that looks far too innocent.
I lean down, biting one hard, wanting it to hurt enough that she wakes tomorrow and feels it still throbbing. I know I’m playing with fire; I know this is reckless but I’ve dreamt of this, imagined this, needed this for so damned long that I refuse to walk away now. I refuse to turn down this opportunity when it’s presented so perfectly.
With my hands, I spread her thighs apart and hook her panties to one side. Her pussy is neatly shaved, but not hairless. If I had my way, I’d see to that. I’d ensure she was smooth enough to eat off.
Her cunt looks like the gates of heaven; plump and so damned welcoming. With one hand I slap her, and again there’s no reaction beyond a throb of my own cock.
“Fuck her already.” Giselle hisses.
I snarl back, telling her to mind her own business.
She’s ruining this, ruining the fantasy.
The panties come off the same way the bra does. In a torn, ripped, hasty manner that shows how damned desperate I am. And then I’m undoing my trousers, pulling my cock out, giving it a few good pumps to try to calm my own need.
I drag the head of my cock up between her labia. She’s not wet. She’s not even the slightest bit aroused, but then, how can she be when she’s got no idea of what is going on? I could prep her, and yet I don’t. I want to feel the moment her body gives in; I want to feel the moment her muscles submit, and I won’t get that if I finger fuck her first.
As I line myself up, Giselle moves, she shifts. No doubt she wants a better view, but I don’t have time to consider what her motives are. I’m too damned riled up to consider anything but the fact that I’m about to win the jackpot.
I push into her, and it takes more than a few thrusts to work my cock in, and fuck me is the girl tight. Too tight. It makes my eyes water; it actually hurts my cock as I push deeper and deeper.
“Fuck me,” I groan. I don’t know how someone’s cunt could be that tight, but I know in this moment that it’s what I want, what I need, from now on. No one else will ever feel like this, no woman will ever compare.
I slide myself out, finally feeling that leak of arousal and then I start rolling my hips, letting my body truly claim her. Her breasts start heaving back and forth, her mouth opens just a little and I could almost fool myself into thinking that she’s here, awake, enjoying this moment with me. Moaning, gasping, and rocking her hips like she’s desperate to come already.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” I groan. It’s too good, too damned fucking incredible. I know I’ve fucked up, even as I’m chasing the very heights of nirvana, I realise the mistake I’ve made. That this moment here will be a high I’ll never get to savour again, never get to enjoy.
From now on I’ll be an addict, continually chasing it but never ever being truly satisfied.
Behind me, I can hear moans and gasps. Giselle is clearly enjoying every second of me ruining her niece.
I clench my jaw, hating the way that bitch is trying to share this moment with us. And then I remember that my little doll here isn’t actually consenting, that tomorrow she’s going to wake and be none the wiser.
Fury twists in me.
I snarl out, my hands grab hold of the headboard, and I slam myself into her harder and harder. I don’t care that I’m too rough, that I’m twice her size and that Brynn is probably tearing from the abuse I’m inflicting. I need her body to bear witness to this, I need her to wake and see the bruises and remember.
“Fuck,” I groan, slamming into her so hard that I know I’m brutalising her insides.
She has to remember. She has to wake and feel what I’ve done to her, how I’ve left my mark all over her perfect little body.
Her cunt squelches, her body heaves more and more. I slap her breasts just for the sheer hell of it, and the livid print that remains tells me that I’m becoming rabid now.
When I come, I come hard. It feels like the entirety of my balls empty, and I slump on top of her, breathing in that sweet, innocent scent.
As I slide out, my eyes drop to see how swollen and battered her cunt is. My come is already leaking out, as if her body is already trying to rid herself of me. But I see the streaks of red too. Not just there, but on my cock, on the sheets, all around us.
Giselle lets out an exaggerated moan, her body heaving. As my eyes follow the direction of the sound, I can see her lying barely a metre away, her dress up above her waist and her fingers deep inside herself. Her head rolls back, and she’s coming like she’s never had so much pleasure before.
“You touched yourself?” I snap, as it sinks in what all her little noises were about.
She gasps, sitting up and spreads her legs wide as if I’d want to see how turned on she got. As if I give a damn about her. “This was for both of us, Conrad.” she states. “That’s the deal, you can fuck who you want as long as I’m there, as long as you’re not hiding it from me. We’re a partnership.”
I stare at her, almost in disbelief. On some level, this should make me happy. On some level, this is a reprieve. What man wouldn’t want a wife so open minded and considerate?
But she masturbated while I was fucking her niece, she watched me taking her, enjoying her and she stole that moment, twisted it so that it was all about her pleasure.
My eyes dart back to the girl I really want. She hasn’t moved. She’s exactly where I left her, still splayed wide open, and laying in the mess of us both. She’s so perfect. Too perfect. If she opened her eyes now, would she smile at me? Would she have that innocent blush on her cheeks? Or would she shy away because she realises that Giselle is here, witnessing it?
“Get out.” I say before I can stop myself.
Giselle may have sullied the moment, may have spoiled it, but by my reckoning I’ve got a little more time before my doll wakes up. I want to hold her, to touch her, to enjoy this first time for as long as I can.
Giselle doesn’t move. She just lays there, legs spread like the whore she is. “Don’t you want to play with me now?”
“Excuse me?”
“I gave you this, I gave you my niece. Gave you her virginity.” She spits. “The least you can do is show your thanks.”
I blink as that word registers. Virginity? My eyes dart back to the angel on the bed, to where her cunt is battered and bleeding. I was her first? I was her first. It feels like a chorus goes off, a celebration for something unfathomable.
But then it sinks in that she won’t remember this, she won’t know it was me. She’ll wake and be oblivious to what I am, what we did. This night should have been special. This night should have been her, present and awake, desperately pleading for me to do it. She should have offered herself up to me like the prize she was.
Her virginity might be mine, but Giselle has tarnished even that.
And what’s more, I’ve ruined her because she won’t have a clue that she’s not a virgin now. She won’t know to take the appropriate precautions. And when she’s married off, they’ll test her and she won’t know to cheat it, they’ll just think she’s a stupid whore who got caught and she’ll be sent to Oblivion, banished there for the rest of her days.
Christ the thought of it, of her being fucked by others, used by others, treated like that because I was too stupid to realise what this really is what Giselle wanted. This moment here isn’t really about me. This has nothing to do with me, not really. This is about Giselle’s hatred for Brynn. She wants to ruin her. Maybe she won’t wait until Brynn is married, maybe tomorrow while Brynn is still half sedated, Giselle will go whispering to her father and they’ll haul Brynn out and check her purity.
Christ, what a perfect little plan she had. And how easily I fell for it.
“Get out. Now.” I repeat, hoping she hears the fury. Hoping she’s as terrified as she possibly can be.
She scrambles to her feet, chattering more bullshit about how I should be grateful, and I grab her by the throat, shoving her through the door before slamming it in her face.
I don’t give a fuck what she thinks. Or what she does.
In the ensuing silence I stand there, head pressed against the wood, considering my options. If I marry Giselle, I’ll make my brother happy, I’ll make both our families happy. And apparently, I’ll be able to fuck whoever I want, whenever I want, as long as my bitch of a wife bears witness to it.
But I want my doll. I want Brynn.
One second with her is worth a lifetime of fucks with anyone else.
As that realisation sinks in, I do the unthinkable. I cross the room, wrap her up in the bloodied mess of us both and I carry her out, carry her away.
She will still wake confused in the morning.
She will still wake sore and bruised, almost certainly scared.
But she’ll come to realise that this is for the best, that I am what she needs. What she wants. The world may turn against us, the world may try to fight us but I will have her, I will have my doll and nothing and no one will be able to stop it.