Chapter Twenty-Eight #3
She cried out, her back arching off the table, her hands flying down to grab my forearms. But I caught her wrists and pinned them above her head again, holding her down as I started to fuck her.
Hard. Deep. Relentless.
The table creaked beneath us, the sound mixing with her gasps and moans and the wet slap of skin on skin. I could feel every eye in the room on us, watching as I claimed her, as I used her, as I proved to everyone that she was mine.
“Look at them,” I growled, my voice rough. “Look at all my brothers watching you get fucked. Watching you take my cock like the good little girl you are.”
She turned her head as her eyes squeezed shut, but I grabbed her jaw and forced her to look.
“Open your eyes,” I commanded. “I want you to see them. I want you to know that they’re all watching you come apart on my cock.”
Her eyes opened, glassy with tears and arousal, and I saw the moment she registered the room full of men staring at her. The humiliation that crashed over her. The shame that made her want to disappear. And beneath it all, the dark, twisted pleasure that made her pussy clench around me.
“That’s it,” I murmured, my hips snapping forward harder. “Feel it. Feel how much you love this. How much you love being displayed. Being used. Being mine.”
She whimpered as her body trembled. I could feel her getting close. Could feel the way her muscles tightened, the way her breathing had become more erratic.
“You’re going to come,” I told her, my voice low and commanding. “You’re going to come in front of everyone. And when you do, you’re going to scream my name so they all know who you belong to.”
“Nano.” My name came out as a broken plea.
“That’s right,” I said, my hand moving between us to find her clit. I rubbed it in tight circles, the pressure just enough to push her over the edge. “Say it again.”
“Nano.” Louder this time. Desperate.
“Again.”
“Nano!” she screamed it as she came, her body convulsing beneath me, her pussy clamping down on my cock so hard it almost hurt. Her back arched, her mouth fell open, and the sound that came out of her was pure, unfiltered ecstasy.
The brothers watched in silence, their expressions ranging from aroused to impressed to unsettled. But they all understood now. They all saw what I’d done to her. What she’d become.
Mine.
I kept fucking her through her orgasm, prolonging it, making her ride every wave until she was sobbing and shaking and begging me to stop. But I didn’t stop. I fucked her harder, chasing my own release, feeling it building at the base of my spine.
And when I came, I made sure everyone saw it.
I pulled out at the last second and came all over her.
Her stomach, her breasts, her throat. Marking her.
Claiming her. Making it clear to everyone in the room that she was mine and mine alone as she lay there, trembling and covered in my cum, her eyes unfocused and her breathing ragged.
And I stood over her, my cock still hard, my chest heaving, and looked around the room.
“Anyone else have anymore fucking questions?” I asked, my voice ice cold.
Silence. Even Scythe had the sense to look away. He had gotten the message. They all had.
I looked over at Morpheus, who was still sitting at his table, Lollie still on her knees between his legs. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes, satisfaction, maybe, or approval, that told me I had done what he wanted.
I proved I could control her. That she was mine. That she would submit to anything I demanded. But there was also a warning there.
I reached down and pulled Alex upright, her body limp and pliant in my arms. She didn’t resist as I scooped her up, cradling her against my chest, and turned toward the stairs.
The noise started up again, slowly. Conversations resumed, music turned back on, but I could still feel their eyes on me as I carried her up the stairs.
I could still feel the weight of what I had just done.
I had claimed her. Publicly. Irrevocably. And now there was no going back.
For either of us.
When I reached my room, I kicked the door shut behind us and laid her on the bed.
She curled into herself immediately, her arms wrapping around her body, her face buried in the pillow, and I stood there for a moment, looking down at her, feeling the adrenaline slowly drain from my system.
Feeling the reality of what I had just done settle into my bones.
I just told the entire Brotherhood that she was mine. That I would kill for her. That I would die for her. And the fucked-up thing?
I meant it. Every word.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out, my hand hovering over her shoulder. She flinched when I touched her, and something in my chest twisted.
“Alex,” I said quietly.
She didn’t respond.
“Look at me.”
Slowly, reluctantly, she turned her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face streaked with tears, and the look she gave me was so full of confusion and hurt.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my words foreign on my tongue. “I’m sorry I had to do that. But it was the only way to keep you safe.”
“Safe?” Her voice was hoarse, broken. “You just fucked me in front of everyone. You humiliated me. You—”
“I claimed you,” I interrupted, my voice firm. “I made it clear that you’re mine and that anyone who touches you will die. Do you understand what that means? Do you understand what I just risked for you?”
She stared at me, her eyes searching mine, and I could see the moment she started to understand.
The moment she realized that what I had done wasn’t just about control or dominance or proving a point.
It was about protection. In the Brotherhood, the only way to keep something safe was to make it clear that it belonged to you.
That you would go to war for it. That you would burn the world down before you let anyone take it from you.
And that was exactly what I had done.
I’d declared war on anyone who tried to touch her.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered, her voice small. “I don’t understand any of this. I don’t understand you. I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”
“I know,” I whispered, my hand moving to cup her face. “I know you don’t. But you will. Eventually.”
“Will I?” She looked up at me, her eyes full of doubt. “Or will I just keep losing pieces of myself until there’s nothing left?”
The question hit me harder than I had expected.
Because she was right. That was exactly what was happening.
I was taking her apart, piece by piece, and rebuilding her into something that fit in my world.
Something that belonged to me. “You won’t lose yourself,” I stated, even though I wasn’t sure I believed it.
“You’ll just become something different. Something stronger.”
“Something broken,” she corrected, her voice bitter.
“Maybe,” I admitted. “But broken doesn’t mean worthless. Broken doesn’t mean weak. Sometimes the broken things are the most beautiful.”
She closed her eyes, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks, and I pulled her against my chest. She didn’t fight me. Didn’t push me away. She just lay there, trembling and crying, and let me hold her. And for the first time in years, I felt something other than emptiness.
I felt something.
I didn’t know what it was. Didn’t know if it was love or obsession or just the twisted satisfaction of owning something completely.
But whatever it was, it was mine.
She was mine.
And I was never letting her go.