Chapter 26
Presley
Before I left Enthralled, Johnny made me cum three times with his mouth while reassuring me that I’m strong and can get through the day, and reminding me to keep thinking of him when I have to do things I don’t want to do.
It helped to slow down my racing heart and the panic that was taking over thinking about what today was going to bring.
Feeding me more pills also helped to take the edge off.
Those little round blue pills work so much better than the ones Caspian was selling me.
They not only make me happy and feel free but they make me horny as fuck, which again, makes having sex with random people so much more tolerable.
That’s so fucked up to say, but it’s the truth, and a girls gotta do what she can to survive, so if taking pills daily helps me survive, then so be it.
I’ve been at The Brimstone house for the last hour just waiting for my so-called “appointment” to get here.
Kayla was MIA this morning so Harrison took me here.
It was a very odd and quiet ride to the house.
He just kept talking about Master and some guy named D’mitri.
Apparently, there’s a whole love triangle going on with the three of them, but D’mitri is a part of a biker gang with a girlfriend Harrison despises—Jade.
That’s now the second time I’ve heard of this girl's name, and a part of me wants to know who she is that all these people have it out for her, but it’s none of my business.
Thankfully, it was a short ride from Enthralled to the Brimstone house.
Once I got here, I was told to sit out here and wait.
So instead of spiraling and freaking out, I keep reminding myself that I get to leave here and go back to Johnny.
I’m such a piece of shit. My thoughts have always been of the guys when things get rough, but now, my mind is muddled between them and Johnny.
I really need to find out if they are related because it can’t just be a coincidence that they have the same last name.
I’ve always been the closest with Mav and he, nor Harley, have ever mentioned another sibling, but I also didn’t know about Caspian, Braxton, and Axel until their mom died.
Mav never really spoke about his childhood other than his grandad.
I don’t even know their mother’s name or any of their fathers.
It’s crazy how he and Harley know so much about me but I know so little about them.
I guess it goes to show that they really didn’t trust me, so in turn, they always left me at arm’s length.
It’s maddening but I’ll get to the bottom of it.
I need to know. They need to know. So until I can do some digging of my own, I will leave it alone.
I’m so deep in thought that I didn’t notice a black SUV pull down the driveway and park on the side of the house as I sit on the wooden swing of the wrap around porch, reveling in the warm sunny day.
The doors of the vehicle open, and the wind picks up, sending a chill up my spine.
Two older men dressed in suits get out of the front while two younger men get out of the back.
The older ones look intimidating, as most business men do, but these two exude power.
It literally ripples off of them with each step they take as they climb the stairs.
They pay me no mind as they enter the house, but my eyes collide with the younger ones.
I can’t help but gasp and bite my lip. Jesus, they are breathtaking.
I don’t even care that I’m sitting here staring at them because, fuck!
They climb the stairs and walk over to me as I take both of them in and pant like a bitch in heat.
The way the first one's black ripped jeans hug his waist and the black tee shows off his ripped body. Sheesh. It’s the eyes that have me mesmerized, though.
One is turquoise blue like mine and the other is green.
“You alright?” he asks, his tone deep with a slight rasp, and I nod, then look at the other as he comes to stand next to his friend.
He, on the other hand, has steel gray eyes with dark shaggy hair and is dressed in racing gear.
Jesus. He takes out a joint, sparking it up, never taking his eyes off mine as he passes it to me.
I take it, and he smirks, licking his lips.
I hope I get to play with these two rather than the other men that walked into the house.
Bringing the joint to my lips, I take a hit and cough slightly, making them laugh. My cheeks heat from embarrassment as I pass it back to him.
“I’m guessing you don’t smoke often?” he says, and I shake my head.
“You’ve guessed right, but sitting here, waiting for my appointment and the unknown, I definitely needed it,” I reply as he passes it to his friend.
“I’m Spade and this is Dario. What’s your name, Cherry?” he asks, and my eyes widen.
“Cherry?” I snort, raising a brow, and he laughs.
“Your lip gloss, babe. It tastes really good.” He winks, and once again, my cheeks enflame.
“He’s right, it does,” Dario adds, taking a hit off the joint.
He inches closer to me and I still as he takes the tip of the joint and rubs it along my lips.
Jesus lord. He then takes another hit and passes it back to Spade who does the same, but before he exhales, he bends down, cups my face, and blows the smoke into my parted lips.
I inhale and gasp when the tip of his tongue catches my bottom lip.
If only I had enough confidence to lean in, I’d—
The front door opens and Monique, the Madam of The Brimstone house, steps out and greets the boys. They kiss her hello, then she looks at me.
“Let’s go. Your appointment is here,” she orders, and I stand, fixing the short blue dress I was forced to wear. My low strappy heels click against the wood as the boys let me enter the house first. A hand grips my waist and I still, but relax when he gives it a squeeze.
“Are you going to tell me your name?” Spade whispers in my ear as we stand in the foyer, waiting to see where the hell we are going in this huge house.
Everything is outdated and brown. The fixtures have cobwebs and the furnace squeals every time the AC kicks on.
There’s no warmth here. It’s frightening, especially when you go upstairs and to the back.
Room after room houses girls of all ages.
I saw babies in cribs. Toddlers being chased around by nuns.
NUNS. Then the deeper you go, the more women my age and older are being drugged through IVs. It makes me sick that I’m even here.
“Come on, this way,” Monique says, walking through the sitting room and down another hallway. I glance over my shoulder and smile.
“It’s Presley,” I tell Spade, and he smirks.
“But I like you both calling me Cherry. It fits,” I admit, and he winks.
I look away and continue to follow Monique.
We stop at a set of double doors in which she swings open and enters with me on her tail.
Stepping into the room, I’m immediately engulfed with the stench of cigars, weed, and whiskey.
I look around and swallow thickly as I count four men sitting in high back chairs in deep conversation.
“This is a test, Presley. You will do as they say. If you don’t, you will suffer the consequences until you do it the right way. Do you understand?” she asks, pressing her nail into my wrist, right where my scar is. I bite my cheek so I don’t wince, and nod in understanding.
“Understood,” I answer, and she smiles, letting go of me.
I walk further into the room and the men stop talking.
All eyes are on me, and I take a deep breath.
You can do this, Pres. You are strong. You are resilient.
This is no different than a party at the Radleys’.
You got this. Then you can leave and go back with Johnny.
Spade and Dario sit with the other men as they all take me in while sipping their drinks and smoking their cigars. Spade takes out another joint, lighting it up. Our eyes collide and he winks with a nod. I got this!
“Undress, Little Doe,” the man to my right orders.
His Spanish accent drips from his lips. The smoke from the cigars is borderline overwhelming, but I drag my nails up my thighs slowly to lift the bottom of my dress, but the man to my left with the goatee who resembles Dario a little bit comes to stand in front of me.
He smacks my hands away from the fabric and I let it fall from my shaky hands.
“You’re absolutely stunning, Piccina,” he says. His accent is not as deep as the other man's, and I have no idea what Piccina means, but I really don’t care. I’m whatever they want me to be.
“Thank you,” I answer, because that’s what good girls do.
We speak only when spoken to. He smiles, but it’s not genuine, it’s the smile of a man who is going to take what he wants without remorse.
I’ve seen this all before. It’s okay. I’m okay.
His hand runs up my thigh, over my dress to my stomach, then to my tits, cupping them and pulling at my already hard nipples.
Always be ready—hard nipples and a wet pussy.
He looks over at the other guy and nods.
“From the outside, she’s perfection,” he tells him as he reaches into his jacket pocket, producing a switchblade.
I swallow thickly, and with a flick of his wrist, the blade is out and cutting down the center of my dress.
My chest heaves as he slices into the thin fabric while his eyes rake down my body.
The other man stands and comes behind me, grabbing onto both pieces of my dress and slides it down my shoulders and letting it puddle at my feet.