Silence
“Harder, Xavier, please—”
He bites my neck, hands clutching my hips harder as he slams into my ass. My eyes flutter closed as he whispers something in my ear, but I can’t catch what it is before Yale kisses me, his fingers deftly moving over my clit.
“She’s so pretty when she’s weak for us,” Yale whispers against my mouth. “Aren’t you, love?” I nod almost mindlessly, and when he sinks his fingers into my pussy I’m close to screaming. “You’re not full enough, are you?”
“No, I need more—” The final word comes out as a scream as Xavier somehow fucks me faster. I’m going to come. From their voices, their control, how hard and fast I’m sinking into their grasp.
“Open your eyes and look at your husband, Q,” Xavier demands. “Look at him while his brothers make you come.”
Laughter tears me out of the best fucking dream I’ve ever had. The sound is distant, and I open an eye, trying to determine where it’s coming from. The room I’m in isn’t mine, but it is warmer than the night before, and the smell of coffee means the power must be on.
I groan, stretching out my legs, and friction against my core has me glancing down. I’m lying on my front, a pillow between my legs, one knee hiked up.
Great. Dry-humping pillows in my sleep.
“Don’t stop on my account.”
Zayden is in the en suite doorway, grinning, a toothbrush in his mouth, gray sweatpants hugging powerful thighs, T-shirt fitted over his broad chest and biceps.
I smile into the duvet. “Can’t a girl hump in peace?”
“Not when she looks as hot as you when she’s doing it.” He disappears back into the bathroom, and I hear the faucet running. He returns, sans toothbrush, and rests his shoulder against the doorframe. “I mean it, baby. Don’t stop.”
There are more important things we could be doing, but after my adrenaline wore off last night and the reality of the evening hit me, I spiraled. I was desperate for comfort, enough to find it from Xavier, so maybe a distraction is what we need.
I bite my bottom lip to fight my grin but decide being coy is time wasted when I could be coming. Instead, I kick the covers off and shove down my pajama bottoms, until I’m in only a T-shirt and my panties.
Zayden watches with heated eyes, and I position the pillow between my legs, rolling my hips forward. I’m so sensitive that I immediately moan, fingernails pressing into the mattress as I ride the soft material.
“You’re close already, aren’t you?” Zayden asks. I nod silently, eyes squeezed closed, grinding my hips forward. “What were you dreaming about?”
I can’t say it. Not again. Not while it feels this good. It’d be wrong, wouldn’t it? To say my husband’s brothers’ names as I come, even if my husband is coaxing it out of me?
When I next open my eyes, Zayden is approaching. He crouches by the side of the bed so we’re at eye level.
“You’re so desperate to come,” he says, his voice low. “But I won’t let you until you tell me who you were dreaming about.”
I whine into the mattress. “Zayden—”
“Say their names.”
Fuck. Just the fact he knows who it is already has me closer. My skin heats, sweat peppering my throat and back as I ride the pillow faster.
“I can’t,” I whimper.
“Say. Their. Names.”
My eyes roll back, pleasure building between my legs, my mind sinking into the ecstasy. The dream replays in my head—Xavier’s hold on me, Yale’s filthy words, how badly I wanted more. “Yale and Xavier.”
My orgasm crests, and I gasp into the bedding, my toes clenched, body quivering as pleasure almost splits me in two.
“Tell me you want more.” Zayden’s voice is liquid heat, desire, power, control woven through five delicious words.
I open my mouth and gasp, “More.”
He lifts me into his arms and carries me away from the bed.
My legs are unsteady as he sets me back down, pressing my palms against the wall and kicking my feet apart.
He doesn’t even take off my panties, just shoves them aside, positioning his cock at my entrance.
Before he can drive himself into me, I push back.
I envelop him, his thickness stretching me, filling me in ways I never thought possible until I met him.
“That’s right, back that pussy onto my cock because you’re too desperate to wait,” Zayden says, flexing his fingers on my hips. I imagine him watching where our bodies meet, the graphic image of me sliding onto his length forever burned into my memory.
It’s then that I realize we’re right by the open bedroom door.
Through the doorway, I can see down the stairs and into the foyer. Xavier and Yale’s conversation floats up to us, and I tense.
“Zayden, they might hear us,” I whisper desperately.
My husband runs his hand up my spine and wraps my hair around his fist. “I know. They might even walk in.” A soft moan falls from my lips, and I drop my head forward.
“Imagine.” He slams into me, and my eyes widen at the impact.
“They walk in.” Thrust. “Seeing you like this.” Thrust. “Hearing you beg.” He speeds up, fucking me hard and fast, his grip tight in my hair. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
I claw the wall to try and stay steady, and with each slam I’m pushed onto my tiptoes. “Yes.”
“You want them to see you like this.”
“Yes.”
“You want them to do this to you. You want my brothers to fuck your holes while I watch you writhe in pleasure, begging for more.”
The words don’t tip me over the edge. They throw me.
My orgasm slams into me as hard as Zayden’s cock, and I bite my palm to stifle my moans.
My vision blurs as he tightens his hold on my hair and groans as he comes, too.
My pussy squeezes his girth, milking everything from him, and I squeak out a laugh as my legs buckle.
He wraps his arm around my middle to keep me upright, bracing his other hand against the wall.
My chest is shaking with laughter, and he’s burying his own laugh in my hair.
“That good?” he murmurs.
I nod breathlessly. “Yes. Very, very good.” I exhale deeply, resting my head back against his chest. “My knees are jelly.”
He slides out of me, and I moan as warm cum spills free. I squeeze my thighs together, and Zayden kisses my neck. “Let me see your face.” He turns me, cupping my jaw with one hand as his gaze sweeps across my features, but his smile quickly fades. “The bruises are worse.”
“They’ll go soon.” I push myself onto my tiptoes and kiss him. “Let’s pretend this situation isn’t happening for the next twenty minutes, okay? I just need a bit of normality before I realize how entirely fucked up everything is.” He hums and nods. “Tell me what to do.”
He orders me into the shower, and I happily obey.
I didn’t have chance to really admire the en suite last night, but it’s bigger than our family bathroom at home.
Gold-infused black marble, a bathtub set into the floor, a shower the size of a small bedroom.
It’s like a bachelor pad and generational wealth fucked, and this is its garish, overpriced love child.
It’s not ugly, though. Just … a lot.
When I finish my shower, a towel and clothes are folded and waiting for me on a black velvet chair. I pick up each item and examine them, frowning gently because they’re my clothes—mom jeans, a long, fitted top, and fluffy socks—but they have labels on them.
“They’re from an emergency bag,” Zayden says from the doorway. “Whatever you wore most at home, I picked up seconds from the store and had ready for times like this. I wanted you to be comfortable.”
I run my thumb across one of the labels. “That’s thoughtful.”
“But?”
Our eyes meet, and I force a smile. “It’s scary that you knew this day would come.”
“I’m prepared for every eventuality.”
“Even aliens?”
He scoffs. “Especially aliens.”
This time, my smile is real. “We’re gonna be okay, right?”
“More than okay, baby.”
I trust him, and not just because I don’t have a choice.
I dress, tossing the labels in the trash, and note the bloody gauze.
“How’s Xavier?” I ask.
Zayden takes my hand as we leave the bedroom and head downstairs. “In pain. There’s a medical room, though, so you can look at him properly there.”
The foyer is significantly warmer than it was last night, but there’s still a chill that I imagine a house this big can’t completely eradicate without burning through money.
Yale and Xavier are in the kitchen. They’re in clean clothes, similarly casual to Zayden. Sweatpants, but Yale is in a henley, and Xavier is in a worn gray hoody.
The kitchen is the same black marble as the bathroom, spiderwebs of gold creeping through it. Yale is sitting on a stool at the island and swivels it to face me.
“Coffee, love?”
“No, thanks. I’m guessing my anxiety is already gonna be sky high today.”
I lean between Yale’s legs, and he puts his arm around my waist so my back meets his chest. Xavier watches us, his gaze straying to where Yale’s hand rests comfortably on my stomach, and my neck heats when I recall how he held me in the car.
It might be the first time he’s touched me, if you don’t count the Christmas we got drunk and wrestled over an eggnog disagreement.
“How are you feeling?” I ask him, and he shrugs. “I need to check your stitches today.”
Surprisingly, he doesn’t argue. He just drinks his coffee. “Are we having this meeting or not?”
“Meeting?” I ask.
Zayden nods. “We need to figure out our next steps.”
Next steps. God. Where do we even start? My instinct is to call the police, but it definitely isn’t that simple.
“Am I involved in this meeting?”
The brothers look at me, and Yale’s arm tightens a little around my waist.
“Do you want to be?” Zayden asks, and I nod. “I can’t mince words here, Q. If you stay, you’ll hear things you can’t unhear.”
Do I want to be involved? No. I’d love to live in ignorance and just follow Zayden wherever he goes until this is over, but I’m in too deep. There’s no way I can bury my head in the sand anymore.
“I’m ready.”