50. Briella #3
I blow a raspberry as he slowly climbs onto the bed, crouching again, juice dripping off his beard.
“One last chance, Firecracker. Keep runnin’ that wicked tongue, and I’ll bend ye like a willow and wreck ye like a pagan rite.” He bobs his brows.
I blow a raspberry. “If I wanted days of your sweet, soft, and slow kiss-ass eating, I’d shag an English harp player!”
His whole jaw hardens. A vein in his brow throbs. Then, his eyes burn.
Oh, that really got him going! I beam at him.
He lunges for me, and I roll over, cursing when I realize there’s no more bed. Thank god it’s closer to the floor. I thud on my ass, the splint thumping awkwardly.
Rory is on top of me a second later, gripping my wrists, yanking them above my head, with me spitting fire. He grinds his hardness against me. Heat explodes in my stomach and radiates between my thighs. Fucking finally!
Pinning my pelvis with his weight, but not cutting off my air, Rory licks my earlobe. And clicks his tongue. “Naughty little Lass with her sweet ass. There be other ways I can torture ye.”
He lowers one hand and—
“Ohgodohfuckinggod! Yousonofabeeetch!” I cry and squeal as he works those fingers in soft, curling tickles of pure torture. Underarms, ribs, neck. Nothing spared. “Bahahahastooop—I’mgonnakillthecook—hahahaAHHHH!” I unleash the longest piercing scream ever.
The next split second, Jude, Vincent, and Seth all burst in.
“What in all bloody fuck?” Seth yells. “Rory!”
Jude crosses the space in three long strides, grabs the back of Rory’s hair, and pulls. He howls, breaking his hold on me as Jude drags him back. I squeeze my arms around my body, protecting my hypersensitive nerves.
But I can’t help the swirling heat in my pussy or the proud rush of air in my chest.
“She started it!” Rory spits, pointing a finger at me.
Jude shoves him away and reaches my side just as I sit up and flip him off with both hands. “And I’ll fucking finish it!” My blood is blazing. I wag my hand, kissing the air. “Come and get it, you impotent shamrock.”
He growls, lunging again, but Vincent slams him to the ground with Seth getting his legs.
Jude is quick to pick me up and glances at the bed. I practically scald him with my glare. “Not. The. Fucking. Bed!”
Jude smirks. “Seems our sweet little Queen needs more attention.”
“Good fucking God almighty! I just need a goddamn change of scenery. But all I get is you morons never asking for directions!”
Jude throws his head back and laughs. I hate it, too. Because it’s that type that makes me want to fucking hump him.
Shaking his head, he nods to the others. “I believe it’s time to level things up.” He licks his lips.
“Does that mean—”
“No happy cock meals yet, Babydoll.” He dares to rub my nose with his. “However, we will bring you downstairs. But I’m cashing in on my tits-treats-for-a-week and putting them right to work.”
I freeze in his carnal stare. A lightning bolt zings through me. A confusing mix of fear and lust.
I turn my head to the others, finding their gazes just as feral “Wh-what are you going to do?”
“Fucking Judas,” I grumble as Jude places me at the end of the table facing the front door.
My free-range breasts jiggle as he does. But it’s far worse than no bra and no top. “This is so humiliating,” I pout, wrinkling my nose.
Since I’m wearing Raphael’s newsboy hat, Jude kisses the side of my head, patronizing. “Next time, don’t antagonize the unhinged sociopath. And our best cook.”
Rory snorts and throws the remark over his shoulder, “I’m yer only cook.”
“Oh, god, this is so weird feeling. When can I take these off?” I touch the top two handles of the scissors-forceps.
They meet between my cleavage with the padded ends clamping my nipples.
A fancy rope coils under my bust and around my throat to hold them together.
The clamps bite, but their intensity distracts me from the pain in my leg. And my pussy.
“When the good doctor tells you.” He taps my nose. The fucker. “And trust me, your beautiful body is never humiliating.”
“Can I at least tie the silk robe around them?”
“Hmm…” Jude strokes his jaw and surveys Vincent, who’s sitting in his designated position.
“Switzerland,” says Vincent. Normally Jude’s line.
Jude looks at Rory, who eyes my tits and licks his lips. “Is that really a question, Doc?”
Seth smiles at me. “I vote yes. She’s been through enough the past week.”
“Kiss ass,” Rory mutters.
Jude peers down at me, and I stiffen, holding my breath. Holding. Holding. He tilts his head. Lungs burning now. Come on, pleeease. I pray to all the medical spirits.
Finally, Jude offers me his sultry stare, a soft nod, and a deep, velvety voice, “You may.”
I exhale and hurry to tie the robe, finding some dignity. Rory walks toward us with trays of food balanced in his hands. Vincent is rubbing Pew Pew’s head. Seth asks me if he can spoon-feed me. Jude is pulling out his chair.
And I’m about to stab something. Because I want one of them to stab me until—
Raphael opens the door and enters the cabin!