37. Belle
Belle
Ican’t sleep, my mind lies waste on a desolate sandbar.
I’m alone, leaving me uninterrupted time to contemplate the intricacies of my future.
Today’s been nothing but strategizing. Despite the burst of life from the land, not all are happy about my new rule.
Lord Pan wasn’t the only wealthy man to hoard away captives with his Darlings.
Some would rather die of starvation than give up their pride.
Thankfully, I have Rosalia and some of her most trusted rebels to advise me, but their hopeful words make me no less worried about my neck missing its noggin.
It’s not only my queenly duties muddying up my mind, my boys take up even more of my thoughts. I’ve wrestled with my too-soft sheets for hours, and yet sleep hasn’t taken me. I angrily flip to my other side. “Where are they?” I ask the empty room.
I heard Rourke woke from his multi-day slumber and disappeared hours ago. Peter is nowhere to be found either. Could I have scared them both away? I killed their father after all. Peter seemed thrilled when he fucked me in the library, but maybe with the sexual reprieve came clarity.
Rourke had always been loyal to his father before falling in love with me. Perhaps he woke up and forgot all about me, hearing of my deeds from one of the staff and fleeing the grounds to escape my tyranny.
It’s unlikely, but what could possibly keep them from me? Could they be hurt? The sudden thought makes me nearly jump out of my bed to search for them, pitch-black night be damned, but before I move a muscle, my bedroom door clicks open, and the room fills with light one inch at a time.
I don’t move, eager to see what they’ll do. It’s no mistake who it is. I make out the weight of each of their steps, the airy breaths between quiet chuckles, their distinct but familiar scents as they inch closer, creaking across the hardwood floor.
Rourke picks up the corner of my blanket covering me, pulling them up so he can crawl into bed next to me.
Peter follows suit on the other side, molding his hard body behind mine.
I’m enveloped with a waft of alcohol. They were out drinking.
Those bastards, I could have used something to take the edge off my thoughts.
“What are you both doing?” I ask in hushed frustration. Why I’m trying to be quiet, I’m unsure.
Rourke smiles, pressing his lips against mine. “We missed you,” he says, leaving only a small space for the words.
Peter licks up my neck, sloppy and hungry. My heart works overtime, pumping blood to every sensitive point in my body. Rourke presses into me, his hardened length making itself known against my abdomen.
Oh my fucking God. I must be dreaming. Yes, they both love me, said they’d share me, do whatever they needed to be mine. But I didn’t imagine this. Who am I kidding? Of course, I imagined this. I woke up to a drenched sheet from the fantasy, but it seems much too good to be true.
I want to know so much; where did they go? What did they talk about? Just how far will they take this? But I can ask none of my questions. All I can do is turn toward Peter and snake my arm around his neck, pulling him nearer, switching my kisses between the two brothers.
Rourke pushes up the thin fabric of my nightgown, exposing all of me to the crisp night air.
Peter and Rourke fondle each breast, their knuckles bumping together as they work.
The act of craning my neck to kiss them becomes too much.
I throw my head back, arching my body off the bed as they each nip at my jaw.
“Is this real?” I ask in an awed whisper.
“No,” Peter murmurs between kisses. “It can’t be. But let’s all promise to never wake up.”
I kiss his mouth; his words are too sweet to spill anymore. My body already aches from the rush. I pull myself against him, lost in our embrace.
I worry once I feel Rourke’s stubble at my ear that he feels ignored, but then his words extinguish my fears and turn into a desperate wanting.
He grabs my arm, rolling me to face him, my ass now grazing against Peter.
“Let my brother fuck you as I watch.” Rourke cups my jaw and brings my lips to his.
He reaches over me, tugging at Peter’s pants, pulling him free, and positioning his cock at my entrance.
Peter moans into my ear, his arms vining around my middle.
“Fuck her,” Rourke orders, fitting the pointed end of his hook at the edge of Peter’s mouth, hooking him like a fish.
Peter doesn’t waste any time. He sheathes himself completely inside.
It’s quick and rough, and stretches me so deliciously that I cry out into Rourke’s open mouth.
He drinks in my screams of pleasure, his hand seeking out the heat between my legs, focusing on my beacon of euphoria.
My body rocks against his cock, and he jerks his hips in tempo with his brother’s thrusts.
Rourke whimpers, as if he’s not just grinding against me, but fucking me as well.
Peter’s thrusts quicken, his body tightening behind me.
The nearness of his edge, the perfect strum of Rourke’s calloused fingers, the jerking movement of Rourke’s hips against me, pulls me over the ledge.
My body crashes into a warm spring, and I cry out as the shell of my being melts around my soul.
“So fucking perfect,” Rourke forces out, not stopping his strums as warmth seeps through his pants and wets my skin.
God, these men love to come in their pants.
What a shame that such delicious liquid would go to waste.
My mind is mush. I’m a desperate hole begging to be bred—damned ovaries.
They get their wish, though—half of it, at least. Peter bursts inside of me, sucking the end of Rourke’s hook as he coats my walls.
It’s all happened too fast. I wanted to savor this first moment.
No, it’s not really the first; they both shared me before, but not like this.
Not without my demands. Last time it ended in confusion, with Peter storming out of the room in fury.
But now, Peter and Rourke nuzzle against me from either side, kissing down my neck, with satisfied grunts.
Neither of them is jealous. Perhaps when they wake in the morning, once the booze has left their system, they’ll shuffle out of my room with their tails between their legs, filled with regret.
But despite the kernel of worry, I know that won’t be the case.
It’s different now. There’s no guessing. There are no games. There’s only love.
My mind is at peace. Whatever comes my way, I’ll have this certainty between my two men.
I’m home, and nothing else matters.