8. Vani
8
VANI
J esus, what the hell was that?
I’ve come so hard so often with these men, but that truly was insane. My pussy is throbbing, my ass is throbbing, and even my belly is too. My entire lower body is alive with deep, sensual contractions, and I can’t move. I was kneeling, but now my upper half has flopped over the bed. I’ve simply collapsed. I can’t hold myself up.
I try to move, but Saint holds me down.
“Stay and don’t move,” he says. “I need a picture of this to keep me warm while you’re away. Can I, Vani? Can I have a picture of you this way?”
“A photograph?” My voice is unsure. I know things are very still up in the air with these men, and Saint having a picture of me on his phone could be used against me in the worst way if he wanted to. “I don’t think a photo of me like this –”
“Did I say a photo, cherie ?” he asks with a soft laugh. “I will sketch you.”
He pulls out of me, and I feel the wetness trickle between my thighs, and I’m frozen by a rush of shame to match the rush of fluids.
“Saint,” I say on a soft protest.
“Don’t fucking move, Vani,” he orders.
That order has me staying locked in place. I hate the way he can control me so easily. It’s only because I let him, though, and it’s even worse because of that. I let him because I like it, and that’s fucked up.
A moment later I hear the rustling of paper and turn to glance over my shoulder. Saint has taken a pocket sized sketch pad from the back pocket of his jeans, and is sitting behind me, a charcoal pencil in one hand, and the pad rested on his leg. He’s cross-legged, with the ankle of one leg on the opposite knee, and the pad on the raised knee.
He stares at me and smiles.
“I need to get going,” I say. “We don’t have time for your artistic endeavors right now.”
He laughs softly. “So sarcastic, Venom. For why? I will be fast. I can draw very quickly.”
His deft fingers move speedily over the white space, and he focuses between me and the paper, his eyes flicking up to me and back down again. “You’re so beautiful. While you’re gone, I will make this a painting. It needs color. Rose pink for your pussy lips, spread wide and wet like a flower in the dew.”
The poetic bastard.
“Red for the ruby at the end of the pretty little plug I bought you.”
“A ruby?” I squeak. “A real one?”
“Yes, my darling. I said it cost a fortune. I got it in a small size too because I was considerate that way. I don’t want it to hurt you and stretch you too much while you’re on the bike. This will just give a nice, deep little vibration in your hole while you’re riding. Every time it does, think of me. It is my way of being with you while you’re away. In fact, Vani, I think when you get back, this could be our new thing.”
“What?” I shake my head. “I’m not walking around college wearing a butt plug every day.”
“Oh, I agree,” he says casually. “Some days, a butt plug. Some days a toy in your pretty pussy. Maybe some days some gentle clamps. I’ll see if there’s anything we can torture your clit with all day long. You have sensitive nipples too. God,” he groans. “Imagine me looking at you in a lecture, and knowing those pretty nipples are clamped. Jesus. I think I’d come in my pants.”
No fucking way. But I don’t say anything because while my mind is horrified, my body is already liking the idea. My nipples scrape against the bed sheets, and I shiver.
“There,” Saint says. “I am done. Do you want to see? It’s only rough.”
Like the good girl I like to be for him, I stand and walk over to the sketch pad and stare. It’s … Graphic… and close up. And accurate too. Well, I think it is, I don’t spend hours looking at my spread pussy, but it is a damn good drawing.
I reach around to my ass and feel the plug there, with a flared base. “Saint,” I start, “I can’t?—"
He holds one hand up. “No, don’t you dare. You are leaving me, and this is my request. Wear it for me.”
I sigh. “Jesus, you’re a freak. We still need to talk about you coming into my room without permission.”
He pouts. Actually pouts. “Vani, that was our special time. Let’s not ruin it now. We can talk later, non ?”
I want to slap him across his perfect face. I want to kiss him. I want to fuck him all over again.
I don’t do any of those things. Instead, I head into the bathroom. “Fine,” I call over my shoulder. “I’ll keep the plug in, but I’m cleaning up. That’s non-negotiable. There is no way I’m riding on a bike in hot leathers like this.”
“ Oui, cherie. Whatever you say.”
I shake my head and turn the shower on and take off my remaining clothes. Standing under the water, I wash myself super-fast then step out. I’m drying myself when Saint walks into the room.
“My brother isn’t here, so let me.” He takes the bottle of scented body lotion I use off the shelf and gently rubs it into every inch of my skin. Even the tops of my feet and my hands. “This body is a work of art, so we must treat it as such,” he says softly.
I don’t have the heart to tell him the lotion is going to make getting the leather pants back on that much harder. He’d probably like it, anyway.
When he’s worked all the lotion in, he stands back and admires me. “Such a pretty, pretty girl, Vani.”
Then he reaches for my breasts and gently cups them together. He flicks my nipples, moans and bends down, and sucks one into his mouth. He roughly laves it before moving to the other and doing the same.
He stands back and stares. “There, you have a bit of me on you. You can get dressed now, Vani.”
I do as he says and shakily dress, having to wrestle myself back into my leathers. I glance at my phone. Shit, I’m late for Zane. He’s going to take one look at the two of us and know exactly what the hell we’ve been doing.
“I’ll be thinking of you,” he says. “And I will jerk off tonight and picture your ass with the plug in it.”
“How romantic,” I say drily.
He laughs, not insulted in the slightest. “ Oui , it is. Now, Vani.” He takes my hands, suddenly serious. “Get that necklace, sil vous plait . We need it for my brother.”
I can tell he’s stressed because he’s slipping into French more than he usually does. Instinctively, I throw my arms around his neck and pull him close, nestling my nose into the space where his shoulder meets his neck, inhaling the scent.
“We’re going to get him back, Saint.”
He shocks me when he quietly says, “I can’t live without him, Vani. I can’t be a half in this world. It’s too fucking cold for that.”
Saint doesn’t often say such deep things, and I hold it close to me, a more precious jewel than the ruby sticking out of my ass.
“I know,” I say softly.
And I do. I might not have firsthand experience of it, but I can tell how strong the bond is between the twins. Plus, they have this whole fucked-up sexual dynamic that screams trauma bond, so I don’t think one would do well without the other.
“Don’t do anything crazy,” I warn Saint as I gather my things.
A look crosses his face, and it chills my blood. It’s a look that doesn’t reassure me on the crazy front at all.
Just what the hell is he up to?