Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
KANE
The weather is fucking gray. Just like my sour mood. I fucking hate this.
“I swear, this will be the last fucking time,” I grind out.
It better fucking be, because I’m not doing this again. Our father can go fuck himself if he thinks we’re his puppets. We’re not.
“You say that every time.”
My brows pull down low, and I force my gaze away from the road to look at Cash.
Arms crossed over his broad chest, he slouches in the passenger seat with his eyes closed and his legs spread wide. He’s calm, unlike me… and resigned, because he knows that we don’t get a fucking say, but he hates it as much as I do.
“I mean it this time,” I mutter. My mobile phone lights up with a notification in the middle compartment, and my heart does a weird little flip.
I can’t get that Jessica girl out of my head.
She’s under my skin, burrowing deeper every time I seek her out to see her expressive eyes flash with defiance.
“Let’s just get this over with,” my twin mutters, dragging a hand over his face before he sits up straighter.
The large metal gates to my father’s estate loom up ahead, and the guard on duty puts his coffee down to let us in. It’s early evening. We’re half an hour late, which my father will grumble about without a doubt, but screw him.
It starts to drizzle as I park up beside the senator’s car.
Cash rubs his nose to ensure there’s no powder left. “I’m not high enough for this shit.”
I’m not high at all. Whatever he’s had, I could do with some of that, because fuck this. I can already feel my skin crawl.
“Come on,” I grumble, shoving open the door and exiting the vehicle. “The old man is already blowing up my phone for being late.”
Our butler waits for us by the front door, bowing politely as we jog up the steps. Cash walks ahead, straightening his black tie and running an agitated hand through his hair.
Yeah, he’s high, alright.
Our father narrows his eyes at us as we enter the dining room. I ignore him. We turned up like he demanded, didn’t we? Not once have I promised the old man we’d be on time.
We greet the senator and his wife, and Cash pulls out a seat across from me. The meal is a lavish one, as usual.
Nothing but the best for the senator.
I’ve never liked ass kissing, but our father excels at it.
Classical music plays in the background, which is the only style of music my father allows in the house. Everything else, he considers lower-class and God-fucking-forbid we listen to some old-school rap.
The steak bleeds when I cut into it, but my appetite is gone, so I drink a copious amount of alcohol instead to drown out the boring-as-hell conversations going on around me.
Across the table, Cash loosens his tie, his eyes bloodshot. He looks worse than I’ve ever seen him.
Eyes haunted.
Empty.
It guts me, because he’s usually the happy-go-lucky one. But every time we come here, he dies a little inside.
The senator’s wife is drinking from her champagne glass while observing me across the table, and I grit my teeth to keep my emotions from showing on my face.
I always thought I had mastered my poker face, but it’s a struggle tonight.
Let’s say the urge is there to reach for the steak knife and slice her husband’s throat.
Just one quick swipe, and the skin would cleave.
I drink more whiskey to force down the vivid images, but they linger like the smoke from my father’s cigar. He’s puffing on it like a mob boss, a satisfied grin curving his mouth as we lock eyes. It takes everything in me not to say something that will land me in a heap of trouble.
Cash kicks my ankle beneath the table.
Keep your mouth shut.
My brows crash, but then I notice the senator’s wife’s arm move.
She’s jerking Cash off beneath the table, and he’s got a jaw harder than granite as he stares at a random spot on his plate.
The witch is old enough to be our mother, but that doesn’t stop her from touching my brother. She’s a vile bitch.
“My wife is eager to get the party started.” Her sleazy husband chuckles with the whiskey glass inches from his mouth.
Sick bastard. Who in their right mind wants to watch other men defile their wife? The senator, that’s who. Especially twins. It’s some twisted fetish of his to enjoy the finest whiskey our town has to offer and discuss business with my father while his wife gets railed.
My father puffs on his cigar, and when he turns that smug look on me and smirks, I suck on my teeth.
There’s no fucking way out of this, so I reluctantly push my chair back, unbuckle my belt, and make my way over.
Cash is gripping the expensive silverware so firmly that his knuckles are white.
The witch whispers in his ear, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she watches my approach.
I undo my fly and shove my hand into my pants to get an erection going. My cock isn’t usually shy, but this woman disgusts me.
“Which one are you again?” she asks my brother when he gets up and walks over to the deep green chaise near the piano.
“Kane,” he replies in a dead voice. She won’t know otherwise, because we’re twins. Cash’s hair is shorter than mine, but to the untrained eye, we look the same.
I strip her out of her silk dress until she’s naked except for black garters, stockings, and a pair of silver heels.
I can do this. I can fuck this woman. Hell, I’ve been hard all week whenever I think of Jessica…
and I’ve thought of her a lot. The way she gets off on asserting power over me.
I’m not into the whole domination thing or whatever, but I am into how much she’s into it. That’s hot as hell!
Just the thought of it now finally gets some blood pumping to my dick, which the senator’s wife takes as a good sign as she kneels on the marble floor.
The moment her lips wrap around me, I bite down hard and swallow a grunt.
I feel fucking dirty. Honestly, I should be used to it by now.
After all, I was fourteen the first time our father ordered my tutor to suck me off.
Overnight, she went from homeschooling my brother and me to riding our cocks between lessons.
This is how it always goes at these dinners. Cash numbs himself with pills and coke. I drink alcohol or pop a pill. The senator’s wife blows us until we come all over her face and tits, then it’s our turn to eat her out.
Sometimes both of us at once.
And then we fuck her together when we’re erect again, which understandably takes a bit of effort thanks to the drugs and alcohol.
Rinse and repeat. Occasionally, her husband joins in and fucks her mouth. More often than not, he prefers to watch.
He’s a fucking perve, if you ask me.
Shit… I’ve lost my erection, so I give my cock a few tugs while she blows my brother, but all I can think about is Jessica.
Jessica’s reluctant smile.
Her flowery perfume.
Soft lips wrap around my cock again, and I drop my head back.
I try to get into it. It’s a blowjob, for fuck’s sake.
But my chest feels tight. I’ve never liked these dinners.
I always feel dirty and cheap. Tonight is different, though.
I feel fucking repulsed. Like I could scrub my skin clean for hours in the shower and still feel dirty.
I can’t stay here and do this. I just… can’t. It’s not right.
I tuck my cock away and walk out. Screw this. It doesn’t feel right. I don’t want to be here.
But I’m not fast enough.
I barely make it two steps down the hall before my father grabs me by the neck.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he seethes near my ear.
I refuse to look at him, and he throws me up against the wall and smacks me hard. He’s always been quick to anger, and the blow stuns me.
“What’s the fucking problem here?” He seizes my chin, bruising me with his firm grip.
A thousand needles prick my sore cheek. I grit my teeth, refusing to respond. Or cower. I’m not scared of him, not really… but I can’t get revenge if he kills me.
My father backhands me a second time and gets in my face.
“Listen carefully, punk. You’re gonna go back in there and fuck the senator’s wife in the ass, understood?
You’re my son. A pathetic one, but still my offspring.
What good are you to me and the society if you can’t even get hard and fuck a woman? ”
“And what if I don’t fucking want to?”
“You already know the answer to that.”
The incriminating evidence. The blackmail they hold over all of our heads to ensure we can never step out of line. Mine is exceptionally gruesome.
“Your mother will find out the truth about what you did.”
The manipulative bastard! I’m gonna kill him one day.
He knows I don’t fear prison. Or death. But Mom… She’s my weak spot. I would lay down my life for her in a heartbeat. He dangles that threat over my head every time he wants something.
“It would ruin her world.”
“And whose fucking fault is that?” I shove him back, storming past him to finish what I started, so I can grab Cash and get out of here.
“Who is the girl?” he calls out after me just as I’m about to enter the dining room. I stiffen, feeling him approach from behind. “Word on the street is that you were seen with a girl down at Dark Lanes.”
“There’s no girl,” I grit out, my heart thudding in my ears.
“No?”
He’s beside me now, smoothing my tie.
“She must have a tight cunt for you to break Mr. Evans’s wrist.”
He walks past me into the room, leaving me to swallow down bile while his casual threat slithers down my spine.
“Stay away from her,” I warn.
He spins around, his hands in his pockets. “Well, that depends on you now, doesn’t it?”
With that, he joins the senator at the table and gestures for one of the waiters to refill his tumbler.
I keep my eye on them as I cross the room. If the old man ever so much as looks in Jessica’s direction, I’ll skin him alive. I don’t give a damn about the consequences.
I unbuckle my belt again with trembling fingers, rage simmering beneath the surface like a pan of hot water. That dirty feeling? It spreads like a sickness across my clammy skin as I mount the senator’s wife.
No amount of scrubbing will wash this filth off me.
To be continued.