Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
COOPER
Pulling the door closed, she lunges for me, and I melt as her body crowds mine, her fingers tangling in the hair at my nape as she hungrily devours my mouth with hers.
Fuck, it feels too good.
Tongues warring, all the blood rushes to my dick.
A squeak of surprise bubbles up out of her throat as I pull her against me, letting her know what she does to me.
My fingers dig into her full hips, the need to leave my mark on her when this is all over is clawing at me relentlessly as I apply more pressure, and she groans into my mouth with rapid panting breaths.
I pull back, the red light above painting her features with a soft glow as her eyelids grow heavy.
“More. Please,” she says breathlessly, and who am I to deny her?
I ravage her like she is the elixir of eternal life and press her up against the wall roughly, pinning her there with my thigh wedged between her legs as she rides it, her nails raking over my neck and splitting the skin as she works herself up into a frenzy.
I needed this. I needed her.
“Cal. Coop.” Her voice is so low it’s barely audible.
I wonder if my mind has concocted the little war cry of mine and my brother’s names as she plummets closer into the depths of her oblivion.
The threat that this is all an illusion, seeing her writhe uncontrollably in search of the release only I can give her, fills me with fear.
I’ve spent so many nights dreaming of her.
I’ll wake up any second now. The sigh of relief that tumbles from my lips, when she tugs my hair at the nape of my neck so sharp pain prickles on my scalp, lets me know I’m very much awake and here, a mess of tangled limbs with her.
An idea strikes me.
I had every plan to draw this out. To tease her. To torture her. But it’s impossible to ignore how right this feels. Caleb needs to see how beautifully our Dove cries out for us.
Chances are he may kill me, but if anything is going to get through to him and prove that she’s ours—it’s this.
I spin her around, her back pressed up against my chest, her cheek against the wood panelling of the door.
Kicking out her ankles with my booted feet, she widens her stance like a good girl without protest. She’s considerably shorter than I am at 5’4, so I dip forward as I slide my phone from my pocket.
Pushing her hair over one shoulder, my warm whiskey-soaked breath skates over her throat bared to me.
I can’t help but preen as she shudders, her palms fisting and then relaxing against the wood either side of her head as she obediently waits without restraint for what I’m going to do next.
“You taste like strawberries and sin, my d…arlin,” I say between nipping kisses to the column of her throat.
I cut myself off before I call her my Dove and ruin this entire thing.
She can’t know it’s us just yet; I wouldn’t want to go against Caleb’s orders and fuck up our entire plan all in one evening.
“On your knees,” I order flatly, and she turns to face me, head dipped to the ground as she lowers at my feet silently.
My phone chimes with the message I’ve been expecting.
Caleb might tell me he doesn’t want anything to do with Ebony’s watch detail, but I’m more skilled with a computer than he is, and I’ve seen how many times he has logged into her tracking app.
I made sure to switch off the connection that is linked to the base system on my phone before she came in here.
Where the FUCK are you? I’ve lost Ebs; the tracker is down.
All my brother’s pent-up anger is ruminating around his favourite word highlighted in all caps.
It’s okay I found her
I reply with a cocky smirk as I begin to loosen my belt one-handed. I’ve had some work done on my cock since the last time she saw it. Totally unrecognisable.
She shuffles around on her knees practically purring, her nipples peaked against her dress as her breathing quickens in anticipation.
So fucking responsive.
Found her where?
I don’t need to be able to hear my brother to know he’s royally pissed off. I would be if I were the one on the other end of the phone.
She looks up at me, those pleading doe eyes and fanning lashes against her cheeks making me want to haul her up and drive my cock into her relentlessly.
But I hold steady and nod my approval at her silent question.
I could always tell what our girl was thinking, her face so expressive and telling when her guard was down like this.
Although Ebs waiting to take my cock in her mouth is a first for us both.
She unzips my trousers and pulls me free.
My shoulders flex, and my cock gets harder if that’s even possible when a small gasp breaks from her pretty pert lips.
Skimming her fingers down over the hard ridges and piercings—eight barbells in total—it’s as though she’s exploring some new undiscovered wild animal.
With a firm grip, she grabs a hold at the base, squeezing me teasingly as she smirks up at me.
I almost drop my phone at the connection as her tongue darts out to taste me.
That’s all for you, Dove.
The thought is both a show of love and a sign of ownership, and I push it away quickly. She deserves our wrath.
She needs to be played with, sure, but she also needs to be punished.
Cooper Xavier Knox, fucking answer me. Where is she?
Yep, he’s definitely pissed off. The fucker middle-named me via text message.
Currently, she’s rooting around in my jeans, but give me a second, I might have a more detailed location.
What the actual fuck? What is she saying?
He thinks she knows it’s me—my brother clearly has no faith in me at all.
‘Well, you do have your dick in her soft. Wet. Mouth,’ my brain offers, punctuating each word to check I’m really paying attention to the scene unfolding.
The rasping groan falls unbidden from my lips as she swirls her tongue across the tip.
She jolts forward to take the entirety of my cock down her throat, completely bypassing any gag reflex as her eyes widen and her throat opens wider to let me in.
Her nose brushes against my lower belly as she settles there for a moment, pulling back and repeating the move as I grab a handful of her hair into my free hand and fist it.
Using her as I please and enjoying every fucking second of it.
Talk to me, Coop. What is she saying?
My brother repeats in frustration as a selection of emojis comes through next. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that knife, angry face, and rope is a threat of some kind.
Not saying much, bro. Mouth kind of full. Got 2 go.
I barely type out the words, my body rocking to chase her mouth every time she pulls back and slips off for a glug of air.
I know I must be hurting her with how hard I’m holding her hair that is now wrapped around my tattooed fist, but it only seems to spur her on to hollow out her cheeks and suck my cock like her life depends on it.
I turn the volume down on my phone to mute it and accept the video call that lights up my screen.
Knowing he’ll be able to hear us, but we won’t be able to hear him.
Angling it on the shelf, held steady with a stack of old books, I smile and greet my brother with two fingers pressed against my forehead in salute.
He’s practically vibrating with fury as he catches sight of Ebony on her knees with my dick buried to the hilt in her mouth.
Her hand inches down her torso but stops before she can reach the hem of her dress bunched around her waist.
“Touch yourself, darlin,” I order, and her shoulders appear to slump in relief—as though she were waiting for my permission. Fuck—the things I plan on doing to this woman.
My woman.
Our woman.
So intoxicated with the sloppy moans that leave her lips as she delves into her underwear and rides her fingers, I almost forget Caleb is with us.
“Who knew my woman likes to be manhandled,” I say with a brooding softness that lacks my usual grit as I glance over at my phone screen.
She thinks I’m talking to her, the shudder barely noticeable, but the tip of her lips at the edges telling me she likes my claiming words.
I tug on Ebony’s hair so my cock slides out of her mouth with a pop.
Taking a moment to appreciate everything about her, I know calling her mine will enrage Caleb, but I do it anyway.
She can’t see the screen from her vantage point, but I see as Caleb tears up his room, destroying everything as I tease him with the visual of her.
Pulling her up to stand by her hair, her hand slick with her wetness pressed up against my chest to steady herself, she hisses at the change of position, but still clenches her thighs as pleasure appears to track down through her centre.
My hat tips back, and she squints up at my face.
Lust-drunk grey eyes flecked with a deep violet speculative as her brows furrow and her harassed lips part to expel the question playing on her mind.
“Your eyes,” she sighs questioningly. Those are the only two words she gets out before I spin her to face the wall, plaster her back to my front, and slide my fingers down to her centre, rubbing her clit and pinching it between my fingers to tease the reanimation of her orgasm that I could see fighting to break free as she knelt for me.
If she’s coming tonight, it will be at my hands.
My cock is out and raring to go, but even I know taking her like that without Caleb would shatter him irreparably.
I can say she’s mine to fuck with him, I can lose my mind as she swallows down my cock like it was made for her, I can even tease her to the brink and deny her the pleasure, but the truth has always been that she is ours, and we would never make her choose between us.
When I do finally take her, I’ll have my brother right beside us to enjoy her too.
I toy with her nipples through the fabric of her dress, eliciting a sharp exhale from her shaking lips, before moving my hand up to decorate her neck with my thick tattooed fingers that mould like putty to her delicate throat.
The pulsing thrum of her lifeline against my palm as I play with her has her body rocking in time to the movements of my fingers.
I use the heel of my hand gripping her cunt to work pressure against her swollen clit, my fingers—first one and then two breaching her slick folds and entering her as I glide the tips against the soft spot inside her that will have her drenching my boots in no time.
“You ready?” I ask my brother who is calmer now.
He settles in his chair, nodding with a twisted grin as I turn her head to face the screen, her eyes closed tight as I power forward.
Ebs wiggles with desperation as she tries to nod her head in response to my question, signalling that just like my brother, she is ready for whatever is about to come next.
“Please. Please,” she manages to get the words out, begging me to finish what I started, and I refuse to disappoint her.
My heart threatens to lurch out of my chest as an offering for my undying devotion in this moment.
Seeing her so broken with pleasure, fractured with every touch of mine that adorns her body, so responsive to me without knowing who I truly am.
It was never hate I had felt for our Dove, anger and resentment maybe—but never hate.
“Fuck, cowboy, shit… Fuuuccckk!” she screams, clearly uncaring of who might be on the other side of the door.
Her body rippling as the pleasure builds inside her as I hold her steady against me by her throat to keep her standing.
Her body wants to fold, to cave to the pressure it doesn’t know what to do with, but I hold her straight, her extremities trembling as her nails bite into the tattooed skin of my forearms. I want her to mark me, so I tighten my grip, and she follows suit, stinging bloody crescents left amongst the black ink artwork.
I’m almost sad she didn’t say our names again; Caleb would have loved that. But as her core clenches around my fingers, my rock-hard cock pressing against her arse leaking pre-come, I dip my head and groan against her ear. Salivating at every whimper and cry that leaves her mouth.
“Come for us.” My final order sounds ominous as her orgasm rips through her, and she screams, her arousal splashing against my boots like I had hoped for as she cries, tears rolling down her cheeks and over my knuckles of the hand still secured around her neck.
“How beautifully you cry for us,” I say soothingly into her sweat-drenched hair.
Her eyes rolling back in her head as I take her full weight.
The flicker of an aftershock ripples through her body at the praise.
She’s currently riding the remnants of her explosive orgasm, so she doesn’t ask why I’ve used the word us rather than me.
A part of me hopes that her mention of our names earlier signals the possibility that what I’ve just done to her sparked the thought of us both anyway, as she came apart with her release.
That maybe over the years, it’s been our faces filling her head in those quiet moments she spent alone torturing her body with dreams of what could have been—if she hadn’t thrown us to the wolves and cast us aside.