16. Bastian
16
Bastian
I ’m enjoying my fantastic pancake breakfast, humming a happy little tune to myself, licking the syrup from my fingers, tasting sweet goodness along with sickly syrup. Nothing tastes better than Octavia’s sweet pussy. I made sure not to wash my hands before we came down for breakfast, wanting to keep her on me for as long as possible.
Never thought waking up unable to breathe, fighting for my life, would be on my list of things I never want to live without, but having it be because Octavia was sitting on top of me, her pussy on my lips begging for my touch? Well, that changes everything. She didn't sit there willingly; it was more like she was forced. Dorian tied her up with his tie and held her there while she alternated between moaning in pleasure at my tongue and threatening to cut his balls off. Both things were an enormous turn on.
Now I’m the only one enjoying their breakfast. Pretty girl didn’t like the present Dorian gave her last night when she was passed out between us, and Dorian doesn’t like that she is now giving him the silent treatment.
“Sooo,” I say, prolonging the word. “How is everyone doing this beautiful morning?”
Octavia scowls across the table, stabbing her sausage and aggressively cutting it, beautiful bite marks and bruises decorating her skin. She refused to sit next to us, plopping herself down in her usual seat. I tried to sit next to her, but she almost stabbed me in the dick. I love her, but that is a bit too kinky, even for me. Dorian has a matching scowl directed at me, and I shrug my shoulders, going back to licking my fingers.
“How long do you believe this little tantrum is going to last? We have things to discuss. Things that require you to participate in the conversation,” Dorian says, taking a sip of his tea.
Octavia’s cutlery clatters to the side, and pure, unhinged anger filters into her gaze that has my dick hardening. I grip it tight, adjusting myself in my jeans. I’m pretty sure this would be a bad time to suggest she crawl on her hands and knees and choke on my dick while I finish eating, but then again, maybe…
“Tantrum? Tantrum ?” she spits. “You tattooed your names on my ass when I was passed out! I am not having a little fucking tantrum . I’m trying really hard not to murder you both!”
Okay, so maybe it’s not the right time.
“Hey, I didn’t do the tattooing,” I exclaim. It may have been my suggestion, but I wasn’t the actual transgressor.
“Please,” she hisses. “This idea has your name written all over it.”
“Literally.” Dorian smirks.
And that breaks the tiny thread holding her sanity. She flies across the table, knocking over everything in her way, a knife in each hand. She wildly stabs at us, going for the more fatal spots.
Damn, pretty girl is super pissed.
I grab her fast, before she can inflict major damage, letting her nick Dorian on the arm first and sticking my tongue out as he huffs. She thrashes against my chest, screaming in frustration as I wrap her in a bear hug.
“If you keep wiggling like that, I’ll have no choice but bend you over and take you right here on the table. Maybe I’ll get Dorian to add some more ink to your pretty ass. I do like my name there.”
She hisses like a feral cat, baring her teeth at me. “Don’t you dare.”
“Then stop wiggling and I won’t.” She forces herself to calm down or at least remain still, but I can’t help winding her up again. “At least I won’t for now. No promises as soon as we leave this room. I’m thinking of a skull next,” I whisper in her ear.
“Son of a cunt,” she yells, thrashing once more. “You will not tattoo my body without my consent.”
I laugh hysterically, keeping her in a bear hug on my lap as she tries to stab me again. Blonde hair flies everywhere, her cute pink skirt riding up her thighs, showing purple finger-shaped bruises on them. I wonder if she’s as turned on as I am. I cup her pussy, feeling her soaking wet panties, and groan, grinding my dick against her ass. I fucking knew it.
“Motherfucker,” I hiss, pulling my hand away. Sneaky little angel sliced my forearm in my distraction. She grins at me wide with all teeth, bloodthirsty rage gleaming in her eyes.
I am so fucking horny.
“I was thinking a winter wedding sounded ideal. Only a couple months away, plenty of time to plan. What do you think, angel?” Dorian interrupts, throwing the question out calmly, cutting into his poached egg and taking a bite.
I’m pretty sure there’s a whole ritual that is supposed to be done with this, and what he did is not it. But it’s sure going to be interesting.
Octavia goes dead still on my lap, the fight leaving her instantly. Her face scrunches up, nose wrinkling in that adorable way it does when she’s confused, and I bop her nose, unable to help myself. She slaps my hand away, scrunching her face hard with a scowl.
“Does that not work for you?” Dorian asks.
She shakes her head, relaxed now in my hold. “I’m sorry, have I missed something? Who's getting married, and why are we talking about this right now?”
Oh, what a cute, innocent little angel.
Dorian places his cutlery down, grabbing a napkin and wiping his mouth delicately—fancy bastard. “We are, of course. Please pay attention, Octavia.”
She splutters, jolting forward, her mouth hanging open.
“You haven’t even asked me!” she exclaims, her eyes widening, jumping out of my arms and I let her, standing between us. “How am I supposed to know you were talking about us? I’ve only just got back. We’ve only just started this thing between us, and you’re talking about a wedding…marriage? How…what?”
Her breathing gets faster and faster as she paces in the little space between us, pulling at her hair. Dorian and I eye each other, coming to the same conclusion. We pushed her too far, and I think we might have actually broken her. Perfect.
I jump to my feet the same time Dorian does, me at her back and him at her front, caging her in, consuming her. “Breathe, pretty girl. We got you,” I whisper in her ear, holding her flush against me.
Dorian grasps her chin, forcing her to stare into his eyes. We’ve got this move down to a science. She used to have panic attacks a lot when she was younger, and the only thing that helped was Dorian making her focus on him while I trapped her in my grasp, giving her entire body comfort, security.
“It doesn’t matter that you’ve only just gotten home. This right here hasn’t just started. There’s not been one moment in your life when you weren’t ours. When we weren’t yours,” Dorian husks, a surprising amount of emotion in his tone. “The second you came on our cocks, your fate was sealed. There’s no escaping us, Octavia. You are our universe, and we are your ride to hell.”
I graze my lips along the shell of her ear, flicking my tongue, enjoying her shiver. “We’ve killed for you. We would die for you. We can’t step into the light with you, but we can drag you into the darkness. We are the demons of your nightmares, and we’re never letting you go.”
Dorian scowls at that little sprinkle of truth I slipped in there. She’ll think it’s a metaphor, and that’s fine. Boring bastard made me promise not to say anything about the nightmares until it’s the right time, worried she won’t be able to handle it. I think she’ll find it hilarious, or maybe she’ll try to slit our throats. Either way, it’s a win in my book; I’ll be balls deep inside her afterwards.
“I’ll ask again: is winter a good time for our wedding?” Dorian asks, pressing his lips against hers.
She gulps hard, her body quivering as she wipes her palms on her skirt. Her head tilts to gaze up at me, a stunned, questioning glint in her eyes. I wink, ducking down for a kiss, biting her bottom lip and releasing it with a pop. Her lashes flutter as she turns back to Dorian.
“I… We…” She shakes her head, blinking rapidly, and like a flip of a switch, her body relaxes, sinking into us. “I’d prefer autumn, I suppose.”
Dorian gives a quick nod, a satisfied smirk on his face, while I try not to squeeze her to death in excitement. I pick her up and spin her around, her joyful giggle tinkling through the room, bouncing off the walls, making my heart stutter.
“Autumn it is,” Dorian says, a tiny smile on his face at the two of us. “Now get over here and sit on my lap so we can tattoo a ring on you.”
Octavia’s giggle cuts off mid laugh, her face dropping as the fury she had a few minutes ago comes rushing back.
“Tattoo?!”
Uh-oh. Should not have said that. I would not like to be the one on the end of that tone.
“If you think we would put a ring on your finger that could easily come off, then you still have some things to learn, little si-”
Oh shit!
Octavia rears her arm back and clocks Dorian in the throat, cutting him off mid-word. He splutters, grabbing his neck, wheezing, almost doubled over. I cackle with laughter, holding my stomach as I wipe tears from my eyes.
“Pretty girl, that was awesom-”
Fuck!
She knees me right in the balls, and I fall to the floor like a sack of shit. Should have seen that coming. She glares at us, marching out of the room with her middle finger in the air, slamming the door behind her.
Dorian and I stare at each other, trying to get our breath back, then laugh gleefully like the carefree kids we never got to be.
I fucking love that woman.