CHAPTER 11
HARLEY
Three months.
That’s how long it’s been since the auction.
Since everything changed.
Since him.
Pierce.
Sometimes it still feels unreal. Like I’m living in someone else’s life—one that’s too intense, too messy, too much to actually belong to me. And yet… Here I am. Living in his house, sleeping in his bed.
Well, as he always likes to remind me, it’s not his bed and his house, it’s ours.
A few weeks ago, I made a decision. One I’d been avoiding since the moment I got here.
I called them. And by them I mean our fucked up version of a family. The people that were supposed to be our parents, but decided to get rid of both of us, the second we stopped fitting their perfect image of a family.
Honestly, I’ve never thought of them before a few days ago. I guess, I just wanted to see, maybe they’d changed. But maybe the fact that they haven’t called or texted me, or even reported me missing, after almost a year since they’ve kicked me out should’ve been a sign.
But as always, I’m too naive, and always trying to see the best in people, and give everyone a chance. Even these fucking monsters.
They were surprised to hear my voice.
That much was obvious.
But when the video call connected and Pierce stepped into frame beside me—
That’s when everything shifted.
Their faces hardened almost instantly.
“Harley,” my mother said sharply, like my name tasted wrong in her mouth.
“What is this?”
“What are you talking about? Don’t you recognise your son, Pierce? But I guess, it’s been what? Almost a decade since you kicked him out, so I guess, a memory loss is expected.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” his father snapped.
The fight was explosive, loud, and messy.
Everything that had been buried for years came straight to the surface without restraint.
“You let this happen again?” my mother demanded.
“After everything?”
“Let?” I shot back.
“No one let anything happen. This is my choice.”
“Your choice?” she laughed bitterly.
“This isn’t a choice, Harley. This is a mistake.”
“Don’t you see how disgusting this is? You two are brothers, you can’t be together. What will people think of you? Don't you understand how much you will embarrass us? How your father is supposed to explain this to our friends or his business partners. Explain that you are..”
“What, mum? Gay? That we two are together? Wait… I just did. See this wasn’t as hard as you thought.”
I felt Pierce tense beside me.
“He’s not a mistake,” he said, his voice low but sharp enough to cut through the noise.
His father stepped forward then, closer to the screen, his expression dark.
“This is exactly why we cut you off,” he said, looking directly at me.
“This kind of… lifestyle. This filth.”
“And we were right to do it, because I won’t have a faggots for sons. I wanted my sons to be real men, someone that would lead my empire with me. Someone that I can be proud of. Instead… I got… you two,” he added.
I guess it was the breaking point for Pierce. Because he snapped the second he heard those words.
“You should be very careful with your words,” he said quietly.
His father scoffed.
“Or what?”
Pierce stepped closer to the camera.
And I swear—
Even through a screen, the air changed.
“Or those words might be the last thing you ever say.”
My breath caught, because I’ve seen Pierce angry before. But this? This was something else.
“And let me make something very clear,” he continued, his voice calm in a way that made it even worse.
“If either of you ever disrespect him again—”
“—there are lines I won’t hesitate to cross.”
“That’s your only warning.”
And then—
The call ended.
Before I can overthink it—
I move, wrap my arms around his waist, he freezes for half a second, then his hands come up, gripping me tightly.
I tilt my head up, and kiss him.
My fingers curl into his shirt.
“Let’s go to bed. Now.”
The bedroom door slams open so hard it nearly hits the wall.
And before I can even catch my breath—
I’m on the bed, thrown back against the sheets.
The red glow of the lamp bleeds across Pierce’s bedroom like a slow wound, turning the silk sheets into something slick and alive under my fingers.
I don’t know why he keeps the light like this—like we’re in some backroom club instead of his penthouse—but it makes everything feel heavier, the air thick with the scent of leather and the sharp, bitter tang of the whiskey.
His cologne lingers too, something dark and woody, clinging to the heat between us.
I’m already hard before he even touches me.
The way he looks at me—those gray eyes cutting through the dimness like a blade—makes my skin prickle.
He doesn’t say a word, just crawls up the bed, his muscles shifting under the faint light, the buzz cut shadowing his jaw as he lowers his mouth to my cock.
His lips part, wet and slow, the first press of his tongue against my slit sending a jolt straight down my spine.
I gasp, my back arching off the sheets, but he doesn’t rush.
His hand wraps around the base, fingers tight enough to make me ache, and then he takes me in—inch by inch, his throat opening around me like a vice.
The sound he makes, that low hum vibrating around my dick, unravels me.
My fingers tangle in his hair, not guiding, just clinging, because I know if I try to control this, he’ll stop.
He’ll pull back and remind me who’s in charge.
And fuck, I don’t want that. I want him like this—relentless, owning me with every flick of his tongue, every swallow that drags me deeper.
My hips twitch, but he pins them down with a heavy hand on my stomach, his nails digging in just enough to leave marks.
Good. I want them there tomorrow. I want this to be another reminder of who owns me. That I belong to him.
Then his mouth is gone.
I whimper, my cock throbbing, wet and neglected, but before I can protest, his hands are on my thighs, spreading me open. The first lick against my hole is so unexpected I jerk, my ass clenching. He chuckles, dark and rough, his breath hot against my skin.
“You taste like you’ve been waiting for this all day, Angel,” he murmurs, his voice gravel.
His tongue presses again, flat and firm, swirling around the tight ring of muscle. My fingers scrabble at the sheets, silk slipping under my nails.
“Tell Daddy what you want.”
I can’t—my throat’s too tight, my brain short-circuiting from the way his lips seal around me, sucking just enough to make my toes curl.
But he doesn’t let up. His fingers dig into my ass cheeks, spreading me wider, and then his tongue pushes in, just the tip, fucking me in shallow, teasing strokes.
“Nngh—fuck—”
The word tears out of me, broken.
“Please, don’t—”
He groans, the sound vibrating against my hole, and then he’s feasting.
His mouth is everywhere—licking, sucking, his tongue spearing inside me like he’s trying to memorize the shape of me.
My cock leaks, precum smearing across my stomach, my balls drawn up tight.
I’m babbling, cursing, his name a prayer on my lips.
He pulls back just long enough to growl.
“Such a pretty pussy. Always so fucking sweet and wet for me.”
I’m trembling when he finally lets me go, my body over-sensitized, my hole fluttering around nothing.
But he’s not done. He flips me onto my back in one smooth motion, his hands rough on my hips, and then he’s looming over me, his cock already hard and leaking, the tip glistening under the red light.
I don’t even have to ask. I just open my mouth, and he feeds me his dick, his fingers tangling in my hair.
“That’s it, Angel” he rumbles, his voice thick.
“Take Daddy’s cock.”
I hollow my cheeks, my lips sealing around the base, my throat opening for him.
He doesn’t go easy. His hips snap forward, his cock hitting the back of my throat, and I gag—but he doesn’t pull back.
He fucks my face, his grip on my hair unyielding, his breath coming faster.
Saliva drips down my chin, my nose burning, but I don’t care.
I want this. I want him using me, owning me, my lips stretched obscenely around his thickness.
“Fuck, Angel—” His voice is raw, his cock swelling against my tongue. He pulls out just enough to let me breathe, then slams back in, his balls slapping my chin.
“Gonna make you take it all. Take it all, you slut.”
I moan around him, my own cock forgotten, my entire world narrowing to the weight of him in my mouth, the way his thighs tense under my hands. He’s close. I can taste it—the salt of his precome, the way his muscles lock up. But then he stops, his cock popping free with a wet sound.
“Not yet,” he growls, his chest heaving. He reaches for the lube on the nightstand, his fingers slick as he strokes himself.
“Gonna fuck that pussy of yours first.”
I whine, my hole clenching at the words. We don’t use condoms anymore. Haven’t since we both got tested. The thought of him bare inside me makes my cock twitch, precum dripping onto my stomach.
But then I remember the toy in the drawer.
I push up onto my elbows, my voice rough.
“Wait—can we try something?”
Pierce pauses, his hand stilled on his cock. His eyes darken.
“What, does my Angel wants to try?”
I bite my lip, my heart hammering.
“The… the pink one. In the drawer.”
His brows lift, but he doesn’t laugh. He reaches over, pulling open the nightstand, and takes out the thick, veined dildo—my favorite. The silicone is cool in his hand as he turns it over, his thumb tracing the ridged head.
“You want this and me?” His voice is low, dangerous.
I nod, my hole already aching at the thought.
“Please, Daddy. I want you to fuck me with both.”
A groan rumbles out of him, his cock jerking in his grip.
“Greedy little slut.”
But he’s already reaching for more lube, his movements sharp with need. He slickens the toy first, then his cock, his eyes never leaving mine.
“On your hands and knees. Now.”