Chapter 14 #3
“I...” I look to Morgan as if he can save me.
“Say it,” Morgan says, a greedy voyeurism in his eyes. “I want to hear you say it.”
I turn back to Sebastian, unable to look at Morgan when I say the word, even though I know he's heard me when I thought Sebastian and I were alone. “No, Master,” I whisper.
“I'm never going to be done with you, cupcake. You're moving in. Here, with me and my brother. We're going to share you.” His tone is completely nonchalant. As if this is a normal thing to say.
I look back and forth between the two men, for the first time seeing the resemblance in their features. I saw the similarity in their build and hair color the day I met Morgan. It was why I was so sure he was my blackmailer until he spoke.
“You can't be brothers. You don't have the same last name.” I must sound like such an idiot, or like a child trying to figure out whodunit in her first Nancy Drew mystery.
“This might shock you, cupcake, but many people use aliases. A lot of people want to hide their family name when there's too much money behind it that might draw unwanted attention.”
I finally look around at my surroundings. We're in a huge modern penthouse, with giant floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall. The view is gorgeous, the city lights twinkling in the distance.
Morgan moves closer and presses a kiss against my throat, his hand slipping underneath the gray leotard to stroke my breast. “Be calm, little rabbit. We won't hurt you... much.” He pinches my nipple.
The arousal that fled in the face of my fears over what Sebastian might do with me has sparked back to life at this man's touch. I moan. I can't help myself. I don't want to think about what this says about me.
“He's been hogging you for too long,” Morgan says.
“Oh, shut up, you got to touch her, too.” Sebastian sounds exasperated.
“Not nearly enough,” he murmurs as he kisses a trail over my collarbone.
My body goes rigid. Morgan touched me? Does he mean outside of rehearsal? I close my eyes, thinking about all the things that have happened between me and Sebastian in the opera house. All the times he's touched me in different ways. Were some of those times Morgan?
“I fed you the cupcake,” he whispers in my ear in answer to my unspoken question. “That was my finger you sucked the frosting off of. But Bastian made it. He's always been better in the kitchen.”
I feel so aroused right now but also so betrayed. The tears come again, and I wrench free of Morgan's grasp. I back away from the two of them. I think back to all the things that happened in the theater, trying to reconfigure my memories to account for two men instead of one.
“W-which times was it you?” I ask Morgan. I can't keep my voice from shaking.
I know all the dancing was Sebastian. I know all the orders came from Sebastian's lips.
“I stroked you that first day on the mattress,” Morgan says. “Bastian and I took turns getting you off. And I waxed you that day on the stage after your punishment.”
“Who fucked me?” I blurt out.
“That was me,” Sebastian says. “Morgan hasn't had that pleasure yet.”
“Yet?!” I shriek, hysterical. “Fuck yet! You're both insane.”
They advance on me, and I back away until I'm pressed against the floor-to-ceiling windows. I look behind me at what would be a precarious drop if we were outside. Still, the height makes me dizzy, and I have to shut my eyes for a moment to steady myself.
“I believe we had an agreement,” Sebastian says. “The small matter of the price of my silence.”
“OUR silence,” Morgan says, happy to insert himself into all my memories after the fact.
I look back and forth between the two of them.
“You'd really turn me in? After everything?” I'm crying again.
I just can't fucking stop crying. Sebastian just got through telling me tonight that I knew he wasn't going to report me after our first few meetings.
Did I? If that's so, why are they making the threat now?
Both men just stare at me, and I have no idea what their stony expressions mean. They won't tell the police. They won't. They get off on this too much. The way they've used me, fucked with me, lied to me. And yet... my body is betraying me.
My body is screaming at my mind, telling it to shut the fuck up and just enjoy this. Because the idea of their hands on me elicits the deepest, most carnal need I've ever felt. I want them to take me together. And I'm so ashamed that I want this.
They're both so beautiful. And masculine. And... frightening. And it isn't Sebastian's scar that makes it so. It's the unapologetic ruthless nature of these two men.
“What else have you done?” I ask Morgan.
“I've kissed you. Some nights I was the one who slid the toy inside your ass.”
I whimper at the memories.
Morgan takes this as encouragement and continues, his voice going low and gravelly. “Sometimes when my brother was fucking your mouth, I was the one stroking your cheek, encouraging you.”
I don't know what to say to this. I don't know what to feel. So I just stare at him.
“You belong to both of us now,” Sebastian says. “Morgan's initials will be added to your collar, and you will call us both Master from now on. You will obey both of us. That’s the price of our silence.”
“How long?” I ask, an echo of that first night. But I know before he says it. Still... some perverse part of me needs to hear their intention spoken aloud.
“Forever,” Sebastian says.
I look to Morgan, whose bright green eyes are so intense I have to look away again. I look back to Sebastian, and then back to Morgan, unsure which man is more dangerous, which is more safe. Who should I appeal to?
“Please...” I don't know why I'm begging. I don't know what I'm begging for, but suddenly I’m one hundred percent sure that it doesn't matter what my body wants right now... I can't do this.
I can't be their slave. They can't take everything from me and expect me to smile pretty and take their cocks like a good girl. I crumple to the ground, my legs no longer willing to support me.
I kneel on the hardwood floor, sobbing. “Please... please please...” I beg. “Please just let me go.” Another part of me is screaming no I want to stay. But what difference do my conflicting desires make if I don't want them to send me to prison?
Someone is sitting on the ground beside me, pulling me into his arms.
“Shhh, little rabbit,” Morgan says. He's petting my hair. “I think we should give her some space to process things. Let her go home... just for a few nights.”
I look up, my vision blurred from my tears, to see Sebastian is considering this.
They know I'm not going to report them. They have more power.
They have the better card to play. The justice system won't absolve me because of their blackmail.
Their crimes aren't as high as premeditated murder, and they have enough money and power to buy their freedom from anything anyway.
“Very well,” Sebastian finally says, his eyes never leaving mine. “I'll take you home. You can have a few more nights in your own bed. Are you going to be able to dance tomorrow or do we need to use the understudy?”
Oh yeah. I'm dancing with him. How can I dance with him? But I nod my head quickly. “Don't call the understudy. Please, I can dance.” I just got this role; I can't lose it now.
“We'll see,” Sebastian says, skeptical.
I pull out of Morgan's arms and crawl the few feet over to Sebastian. “Please, Master, I want to dance.” He absently strokes my hair.
“Get up, I'll take you home.”
I struggle to stand, and Sebastian leads me out of the penthouse, to the service elevator, back to his car. We are silent on the drive. When he pulls up in the circular driveway in front of my house, he finally speaks.
“You belong to us. We won't be moved. Neither of us. So don't think you can play us against one another. Take this time to make peace with your fate.”
I only nod, willing the tears not to start up again. I take my ballet bag and get out of the car without a backward glance.
Once safely locked inside my house, I slide to the floor and sob. By the time I finally drag myself to bed, I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep. I masturbate five times, because it's what I do when I have insomnia.
I try not to think about anything in particular. It's just for comfort. But even I don't believe this lie. Now the fantasies have two men. My body betrays me over and over as I stroke myself to orgasm, my moan filling the darkened room.