Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
Let her see this. Let her understand what it meant to be in this world. Let her realize that the Brotherhood didn’t do exclusivity, didn’t do monogamy, didn’t do the fairy tale bullshit she might have been imagining in her head.
I claimed her. Broken her. Made her mine. But that didn’t mean I was hers.
Serena pulled back, her tongue swirling around the head of my cock before she took me deep again. She moaned around me, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure up my spine.
My cock was fully hard now, thick and heavy in her mouth. She worked me with enthusiasm, her head bobbing faster as she tried to prove herself. Tried to make me come. Tried to be the one who finally got Nano to lose control.
But I wasn’t losing control.
I was in complete control.
I could feel eyes on me. Not just Alex’s, but the rest of the club, and that was when I saw him.
Scythe.
Standing right behind Alex, stroking his dick.
The world narrowed to a single point of white-hot rage.
Everything else, the music, the laughter, Serena’s mouth on my cock, the brothers watching, all of it disappeared. There was only Scythe, standing behind my girl, his hand wrapped around his cock, his eyes locked on her like she was just another piece of club pussy he could use.
Like she wasn’t mine.
The fury that exploded through me was primal. Visceral. The kind of rage that bypassed rational thought and went straight to violence. My vision tunneled, my muscles coiling with the need to destroy, to tear him apart for daring to look at her like that.
For daring to touch what belonged to me.
Because that was what he was doing. Not physically, but the intent was there. In the way he stood too close. In the way his hand moved over his cock. In the way his eyes traveled over her body, like he was already imagining what it would feel like to fuck her.
No.
The word roared through my head, drowning out everything else.
No. She is mine. MINE.
I shoved Serena off my cock so hard she fell backward, landing on her ass with a startled cry. My jeans were still open, my cock still hard and slick with her spit, but I didn’t give a fuck. I was already moving, already crossing the room with a speed that made several brothers jerk to attention.
Alex’s eyes went wide as I closed the distance. She opened her mouth to say something, but I didn’t give her the chance.
My hand closed around her throat.
Not gently. Not the way I’d done it in my room when I was teaching her, conditioning her, making her understand what her body craved. This was brutal. Possessive. A claim written in the pressure of my fingers against her windpipe.
She gasped, her hands flying up to grab my wrist, and I used that momentum to spin her around and slam her face-down onto the nearest table. Pool balls scattered, rolling off the edge and clattering to the floor. Someone’s beer tipped over, spilling across the felt.
I didn’t care.
I pinned her there with one hand on the back of her neck, holding her down, and turned to face Scythe.
“You got something to say, brother?” My voice was low. Deadly. The kind of tone that made smart men back the fuck up.
Scythe didn’t back up.
He stood there, his hand still on his cock, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Just enjoying the show, Nano. Thought maybe she was community property now that you’ve broken her in.”
His words hit me like gasoline on a fire.
Community property.
Like she was just another club whore. Like what I had done to her, what I made her, meant nothing. Like she was something to be passed around and used by whoever wanted a turn.
“She’s not community property,” I seethed, my voice going so cold it could have frozen the air between us. “She’s mine.”
“That right?” Scythe’s smirk widened. “Because Morpheus said—”
“I don’t give a fuck what Morpheus said.
” I cut him off, my hand tightening on Alex’s neck.
She whimpered beneath me, the sound muffled against the table, and something dark and possessive surged through my chest. “She belongs to me. Anyone who touches her answers to me. Anyone who even thinks about touching her answers to me. You got that?”
The room had gone silent.
Every conversation, every laugh, every sound of flesh on flesh... it all stopped. The brothers were all watching now. Their attention locked on the confrontation unfolding in front of them. Even the club whores had paused, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fascination.
This was a challenge. Not just to Scythe, but to the entire club.
To Morpheus.
To the way things had always been done, and I didn’t give a single fuck.
Scythe’s eyes narrowed. “You claiming her as your old lady, Nano?”
“I’m claiming her as mine,” I snapped, my voice rising. “She’s mine, and if you or anyone else in this room has a fucking problem with that, we can settle it right fucking now.”
For a long moment, nobody moved.
Scythe stared at me, his jaw tight, his hand finally dropping away from his cock. I could see the calculation in his eyes, weighing whether this was worth the fight. Whether I was serious enough to actually throw down with a brother over a piece of ass.
I was.
“Your funeral.” Scythe smirked finally, stepping back. But there was something in his tone. A warning, maybe, or a promise, that told me this wasn’t over.
That I crossed a line I couldn’t uncross.
I turned my attention back to Alex, still pinned beneath my hand. Her breathing was ragged, her body trembling, and when I leaned down close to her ear, I could smell the fear and arousal coming off her in waves.
“You see that?” I murmured, my voice low enough that only she could hear. “You see what I just did for you?”
She nodded—well, she tried to. My hand on her neck made it difficult.
“I just told the entire club that you’re mine,” I continued, my lips brushing against her ear. “I just made it clear that anyone who touches you will die. Do you understand what that means?”
Another nod. Smaller this time. More uncertain.
“It means you belong to me,” I said, my voice hardening.
“Completely. Absolutely. No more games. No more defiance. No more pretending you don’t want this.
Because I just put my reputation, my life on the line for you.
And now you’re going to prove to everyone in this room that I made the right choice. ”
I felt her tense beneath me, felt the moment she understood what I was saying.
What I was about to do.
“Nano.” Her voice was barely a whisper, choked and desperate.
“Strip,” I said, loud enough for the room to hear.
She froze.
“I said strip.” I pulled her upright by her neck, forcing her to stand, and then released her. “Take my shirt off. Now.”
Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the brothers watching, the club whores staring, the absolute silence that had fallen over the clubhouse. Her face was flushed, her pupils dilated, and I could see the war happening inside her.
The shame. The humiliation. The desperate need to refuse.
And beneath it all, the dark, twisted arousal that she couldn’t hide.
“Don’t make me ask again,” I warned.
Her hands moved to the hem of my shirt. Slowly. Reluctantly. But they moved.
She pulled the shirt over her head, revealing nothing underneath, as she stood completely naked in the middle of the clubhouse. In front of everyone.
The brothers were silent, their eyes locked on her. I could see the hunger in their faces, the way their gazes traveled over her body, taking in every curve, every mark of possession I’d left on her skin. The bruises on her thighs. The bite marks on her breasts. The rope burns on her wrists.
The evidence of my claim.
“On the table,” I said, my voice cutting through the silence. “On your back. Legs spread.”
She hesitated, and I saw the moment she almost refused. Almost told me to go fuck myself. Almost chose her pride over her submission. But then her eyes met mine, and whatever she saw there—the promise of punishment, maybe, or the promise of pleasure—made her move.
She climbed onto the pool table, the felt rough against her skin, and lay back. Her legs were still pressed together, her arms crossed over her chest in a futile attempt at modesty.
I grabbed her ankles and yanked them apart, spreading her wide.
“Hands above your head,” I ordered, and she obeyed.
Her arms stretched up, her fingers curling around the edge of the table.
And there she was, completely exposed, completely vulnerable, completely mine.
Displayed for the entire club to see. “This,” I said, addressing the room, “is what submission looks like. This is what it means to belong to someone. She doesn’t get to hide.
She doesn’t get to refuse. She doesn’t get to pretend she’s anything other than what she is. ”
I looked down at her, at the way her chest was rising and falling rapidly, at the flush spreading across her skin, at the wetness glistening between her thighs.
“And what are you, Alex?” I asked, my voice soft but carrying through the silent room.
She didn’t answer.
I leaned down, my hand wrapping around her throat again, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp. “I asked you a question.”
“Yours,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m yours.”
“Louder.”
“I’m yours!” The words came out as a sob, raw and desperate and utterly defeated.
“That’s right,” I said, releasing her throat. “You’re mine. And now I’m going to fuck you in front of everyone so they all understand exactly what that means.”
I didn’t give her time to process. Didn’t give her time to protest, or beg, or do anything other than lie there and take it as I positioned myself between her spread thighs. I could see the conflict on her face, the shame and arousal warring for dominance, and it made my cock throb.
This was what I wanted. What I needed.
To see her broken and exposed and completely at my mercy.
I thrust into her in one brutal stroke.