Chapter 22— #2
Her muscles take on that preceding tremble before her climax, and a moment later her walls grip me tight, pulsing in an erratic rhythm around my cock.
She’s still coming when I pull out and flip her over. Hauling her onto her knees, I plunge into her again from behind, my rough fingers at her clit to keep her orgasm going.
I’m so fucking close.
“Don’t stop coming for me, baby girl. Squeeze my cock like you own it.”
Her tight pussy strangles me, and I relent. The lightning bolt shoots through me, sending ripples through my groin and thighs as I jerk into her.
Her smile meets me in the dark when I flip her back and pull the bandana out of her mouth.
Emily wraps her limbs around me, and I mold my body to hers. I don’t want to leave. I pretend that my brother is not right there. That it’s just us .
“How come Ash gets the bigger room?” she prompts, running her fingers through my hair and down my buzzed nape.
Tipping my head to the side, I hold her curious stare. “What makes you think his is bigger?”
“It has the adjoined bathroom. It’s a master suite, isn’t it?”
“It is.” But our rooms are nearly the same.
“So, why does he get the upgrade?”
Because unlike me, he occasionally has a girl over.
I shrug. “Older sibling clause, I guess. I never really cared before.”
I roll my hips into her, then drawl in her ear suggestively, “My bed’s the same size, though.”
“Yeah,” she says with a laugh. “I figured.”
Emily turns her head to the bunched bandana beside her. “He used your bandana.”
She’s referring to the night Ash blindfolded her, so we could trick her into having sex with both of us. He said he took it out of the laundry when really I handed it to him as I waited in my room.
“How do you know?” I wonder.
“It smells like you.”
A genuine smile forms on my lips. “That’s my girl,” I say, my fingers tracing the curve of her cheek.
Refocusing on the cloth, I pick it up and loop it around her neck. “Now it’s yours,” I declare, tying it at the front of her throat.
I like to leave a little reminder for Ash that I was here without him witnessing the deed. I like having her to myself .
Emily’s eyes study my upper body, and I know what they’re zoning in on in the faint ambient light: my tattoos…
“Are those cigarette burns?”
… and the other marks.
I drop my eyes to her shoulder. Our father added just as many as his friends . We got the ink to cover them up, but could never escape the scar tissue underneath.
“I noticed them on Ash too,” she elaborates. “You didn’t do that to yourself, did you?”
I shake my head listlessly.
“Was it your father? Ash mentioned something.”
I bristle. “What did he tell you?” I know he wouldn’t say anything. But…
“Only that he thinks he’s in prison.”
I release a shallow breath of relief.
In the silence that follows, I feel her studying my face. Then her hand reaches for me.
“What happened to you, Mason?” She clasps my cheek, with a touch so tender, so caring… I can’t stop the words from spilling out.
“Our father wasn’t a good man, Em,” I say, meeting her hazel blue eyes. I know if I averted her scrutinizing stare, she’d only dig deeper.
“He was a gambler; dog races mostly,” I go on in a blithe tone. “But he couldn’t always pay up. We were a way for him to clear his debt. He would lend us out to the loan shark he owed.” I shrug a shoulder like the past is long buried and has no more hold on me.
But it does.
It made me what I am .
“You! Mason,” Ely’s gruff voice prompts where he sits in a chair.
They know how to tell us apart—something I’m not even sure our father can, and definitely not our mother on the rare occasion she’s lucid.
I assume they do by our wounds, the scars they leave in our skin. Ash has a cigarette burn on his left clavicle Ely put there himself a year ago.
“Take off your shirt,” he orders me, dropping the cigar from his mouth.
It’s not the first time, and I do as I’m told, pulling it over my head, and tossing it onto the table between us.
Rap music plays from a speaker in the corner while a pungent mix of alcohol and cigar smoke fills the room.
I watch him narrow his eyes, then cock his head thoughtfully. I assume he’s considering where to burn me this time.
His fingers twist the cigar in a loose hold, and I get the feeling something is off before his words hit me.
“Drop your pants.”
What?
“What?” I feel Ash flinch beside me, our twin minds mirroring each other.
“You heard me. Whip it out. Give it a stroke.” He motions at me with his cigar. “Show us what you’re working with.”
I don’t get it. He wants me to jack off?
I watch him slouch in his chair, raising the cigar back to his lips like it’s a casual request.
But I know better.
My stomach churns with dread as I go for the button on my fly and release the zipper. My breaths shake. My hands tremble. But I don’t let my fear show. Hooking my thumbs into the waistband of my boxer briefs, I shove them down along with my jeans .
“Well look at that!” Ely exclaims, facing his friends with a nod toward me.
“You might got yourself some competition here, Tom. Boy’s not even fully grown yet.
” He takes another drag, expelling a white plume of smoke.
“Barely hit puberty,” he adds with a laugh before stomping the cigar butt out in the ashtray to his right.
Straightening in his seat, he refocuses on me, fingers laced as he leans forward excitedly. “Go on then. Don’t be shy.”
Shutting my eyes, I blow out a shallow breath. It’s not the first time I’ve touched myself for the purpose of pleasure, but never with an audience. I don’t want to see their faces staring back at me.
My fingers start trembling even more when I close my grip, and I swallow hard, pretending they’re not there to get myself through this.
I drag my palm up and down from head to base in a steady motion, the smooth skin shifting beneath my touch. More blood immediately rushes to my dick, rippling through my thighs and swelling the stiff length in my grasp.
It feels so good.
“Stop.”
My eyes fly open at the command, and I’m confused for a second. He doesn’t want me to finish?
“Oh, we’re not done here,” Ely clarifies, reading the hint of relief on my face.
His eyes are two black pits staring back as his next words shatter me.
“Bend over.”
My skin catches fire. My lungs seize. I can’t breathe. I’ve never been so scared in my life.
The men exchange nervous looks. They don’t appear to have expected this either.
Ely’s eyes drift from me to Ash .
“You sick fuck,” I hear his barely audible voice.
“Ely,” Jonathan interjects. “They’re brothers for crying out loud.”
“Give him the toy to use on him, then,” he says, motioning to the other man. “And lube it up. It’s his first time after all.” A dark chuckle trails his comment that scrapes like nails down my back.
“No!” Ash bellows as arms seize him to my left. “I won’t. Fuck! I won’t fucking do this.” His shoes scuff against the ground to fight against Thomas’ hold, but we both know it’s futile.
Jonathan returns from another room, something in his hand as he comes up to Ash. I can’t turn to look.
“Do it,” Ely’s deep growl challenges my brother when he doesn’t take it. “Or one of us will,” he drags out.
His lips twitch, and there’s a sadistic flicker in his eyes. Ely gets off on his power plays, but it’s about more than simply having me raped. He knows how close my brother and I are. He wants to break our bond.
I hear more shuffling of bodies beside me. Ash is as scared as I am. He doesn’t know what to do. He can’t protect me.
“Perhaps a bit more motivation,” Ely prompts, his right hand disappearing to the small of his back beneath his loose fitting shirt.
When he brings it back around to the front, he’s clutching the grip of a gun. He casually raises it toward Ash and levels the barrel at his head. “What’s it gonna be, boys?”
I’m still just standing there, frozen, my dick in my hand, staring across the table at Ely. I try to swallow the lump in my throat. I know he and his guys won’t let us go until I do what I’m told. Until I finish.
My brother falls silent, all fight abruptly drained from him. No, he can’t protect me from this, but I can protect him.
So I make the choice for us. I release my grip to push my boxer briefs and jeans further down. Bracing my palms on the table, I bend.
“Good boy.” Ely’s dark eyes pin me as he lets out a coarse laugh .
I grind my teeth and swallow the building rage in my chest. One day, I tell myself… One day, I’ll make him pay for this.
Bowing my head, I screw my eyes shut again and wait. I train my ears on the heavy beats of the music, drowning out everything else around me.
My fingers twitch.
The pressure meeting me is timid at first. Then cool and slick as the object sinks deeper and retreats, stirring a whirl of emotions in me.
I expected to go soft at the foreign sensation, it’s wrong, but fuck it feels good. I don’t want it to stop.
And I hate myself for it.
My hand wraps back around my throbbing hard-on, and I stroke the entire length slowly, getting the rhythm going.
I should be embarrassed that my dick swells against my palm. That I’m so stiff I ache for the release. But I’m not. Braced on the table, I speed up, gripping myself harder to the point where it almost hurts. Then I let my inhibitions go.
I drop onto my forearm as my orgasm wrecks through me, my legs barely supporting my weight. I can’t tell if my eyes are open or shut. For an instant my vision goes black.
When the table underneath me comes back into focus, my sight catches on my brother’s left hand braced next to mine.
Deep shame sears a path through my insides.