Chapter 14
Suppressing a shiver as the air shifts from hot to ice cold, I stamp through the threshold, my mask sliding back into place. Employees avert their stares, while whispers flutter around.
What happened to her face?
I thought she was on vacation.
Shoulders back and head held high despite the dirt marring my face, I make my way to Atticus’ office passing the mocking whispers. The large, oak door appears faster than I had hoped, standing as one of many reminders of how I chose, and continue, to dance with the Devil. Inhaling deeply before the memories of what drug me under their tide, I knock sharply against the door.
“Come in,” Atticus answers.
Following his instruction, I enter the dark-themed office. The scent of leather and spices permeates the statically charged room. Lounging on the loveseat with tense shoulders, is none other than Ren Kudo. His reputation precedes him, a cut-throat businessman who never takes “no” for an answer. Photos of him circulate in news outlets and magazines, but none have done the man in front of me justice.
Fuck, he is gorgeous.
He has light, ivory-toned skin, barely a color above my own, and raven hair that is short and tapered perfectly. What catches my breath and makes my heart beat out of rhythm are his eyes. One deep blue, damn near the color of an ocean, and the other is amber, reminding me of a bald cypress tree.
“You must be Mae,” he rumbles.
My mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air. My nose scrunches at my social flub as a shiver rakes down my spine. Sensing that both men are expecting something from me, I swallow my surprise and assume my club persona.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kudo,” I say, fluttering my lashes flirtatiously just as I’d do for clients who pay for private dances.
Smirking, Ren looks me over from head to toe and back up again. His stare burning a pathway for my blush to bleed from my cheeks to my chest. “See something you like?” I ask, breathlessly. Something about this man makes me want to throw him off balance.
Flaring his nostrils, Ren’s gaze finds mine. A mixture of fury and desire crosses his flawless features as Atticus approaches behind me, wrapping his thick arms around my wide waist.
“Don’t tease him, mon papillon. Have a seat and hear out his proposal,” Atticus chides.
Guiding me to the leather loveseat next to Ren, Atticus deposits me without a second thought. Spatial awareness has me shifting away from Ren’s proximity.
Nodding his approval,Ren begins to recount his offer. His lips move effortlessly as he describes how he can make the club something better. Every time he says it, his dual-colored eyes seek mine.
Atticus’ head snaps in my direction, his gray eyes lit with mischievous intent.
Motherfucker.
“I’ll accept your proposal, under one condition. Think of it as a form of reparation.” His voice borders manic at the prospect of whatever bullshit plan he just concocted.
Reparation? What kind of history does Ren and Atticus have?
Bile threatens to spill from my throat over the pristine flooring. Atticus smiles widely, appearing more like a grimace as he bares his perfectly white teeth. “Mae, be a good girl and sit on Ren’s lap for me.”
The challenge in his tone is clear. I am part of the asking price or he walks away from this deal. My spine straightens, not daring to move a muscle. Ren’s jaw ticks ever so slightly before his legs part, seemingly unbothered by Atticus’ words.
“I don’t thin–”
“Do as I say, wife. Go sit on his lap!” Atticus shouts.
Scrambling closer to Ren, his body heat licks across my skin in waves. His slacks stretch against his tense thighs as he patiently waits for the touch of my legging-clad ass. Body tense, I lower myself on Ren’s lap. I spare a glance towards Atticus who looks entirely too pleased that I followed his directions.
“I think my dear friend Ren knows what I’m planning now,” he hums, walking towards his desk.
Uncertainty wraps its claws around my throat, unable to remove myself from Ren’s tense legs. Like Atticus had spoken a command and turned us both to stone. Silence falls between the three of us. Only the tedious ticking from a brass, mechanical clock hanging above Atticus’ desk can be heard. Ren’s muscles twitch underneath me as he grits his perfectly set teeth.
Scoffing, Atticus rolls his dead, gray eyes. “I thought you said there isn’t a price that you’re not willing to pay? Besides, this payment is five years overdue, wouldn”t you say?”
What is he talking about?
Then it hits me. My breath catches in my throat. Five years ago was the first time I experienced Atticus in a fit of rage.
“Those couillons stole from me. Me, of all people! Two perfect papillon, gone. They. Were. MINE,” he seethes as he whips his flute of champagne against the wall, sending shards of sparkling glass to the floor.
“I could tell from the moment you looked at her, you wanted her,” he continues, “Mae is my wife and I want you to…enjoy her.”
Ren’s coiled body relaxes briefly before striking. Long, fit arms wrap around my upper body, pinning my back flush with his chest. His low groan tickles against my ear as he settles my ass against the growing bulge in his slacks.
Biting my lip in an effort to stifle any sound of appreciation, I clench my hands, nails cresting inside of my palms. Our hearts beat together, yet wildly out of sync.
Atticus approaches us slowly, similarly to a wolf stalking its prey. His pupils are blown, leaving only a trace of their grayish color in sight. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was strung out.
Fuck.
Maybe he is and this was his drug.
Digging his icy hands into my thighs, Atticus steals a whimper from my throat. Ren’s heated breath brushes the base of my neck offering me some form of twisted comfort.
Leaning down towards my face, Atticus licks his lips. “Mon petit papillon, how do you make this sight so perfect?” His breath coasts along my lips. “Both terrified and horny. So small, yet, you are the center of this stage.”
His pale hands creep up from my thighs and settle around the waistband of my dark athletic leggings, peeling them down inch by inch until they reach my calves. My face heats uncomfortably as Ren’s breath puffs against my neck. Atticus opens my legs, hooking them over Ren’s, revealing my naked cunt.
As fast as he came to torment me, Atticus returns to his desk sitting, away from his stage. Fear, humiliation, and want work in tandem, causing my pulse to thrum in my ears while my nipples stiffen to peaks against my thin sports bra. Ren must feel the shift in my breathing, taking it as a sign of defeat, or maybe permission.
His soft lips meet my neck with a languid kiss, trailing to the sensitive point behind my ear, causing me to arch my spine. Releasing his tight hold from my arms, his heated hands drop to my thighs. Where Atticus’ icy skin left me whimpering, Ren’s has me relaxing.
Sucking my earlobe gently, Ren coaxes my head to turn closer to his mouth. Little nips keep me aware as his tongue traced the stinging away. His lips press against my ear as he cups my swollen heat, coaxing a moan to vibrate its way through me.
“I can see why my brothers are invested in you,” he whispers, grazing a long finger between my slick folds.
My breath catches in my throat, the wetness between my legs growing.
Who the fuck are his brothers?
Turning my head, I watch Atticus lean forward, splaying his fingers over his desk. He licks his lips devilishly as Ren toys with my pussy. “Spread her open, Kudo,” he commands, taking control. “I want to see how wet my wife is for you.”
Cool air flows past my puffy cunt as Ren follows Atticus’ demands. Closing my eyes, I hide from the embarrassment of being exposed, the scars from my last interaction with Atticus now on full display. I hate them and their ugly discoloration, the texture rigid in places that are meant to be smooth.
“Fuck, that’s a pretty sight,” Atticus rumbles.
Ren’s arms tense as he swipes the pads of his fingers over the tissue. Biting my lip, I fight to keep my degrading thoughts at bay as fingers stroke the blemishes burned on my sex.
Lifting his hips, he grinds his covered cock over my ass. ”Be a good girl and play along a little longer,” he hushes in my ear, making my heart skip a beat.
Creaking from a chair draws me to open my eyes, convincing me to watch as Atticus unbuttons his pants, tugging the zipper down with ease. “Do you enjoy having his hands on you?” His eyes lock with mine, a knowing glint in them.
He has taken my latest rebellion, the newest addition to my nightmares, and twisted it into something he knows I’ll cave into. All without saying a word.
My voice shakes, hating that I have to admit that I crave his brand of torture. “Y-yes. I l-like his hands on me.” Ren’s hot breath ghosts along the back of my neck as he groans, fingers twitching as he keeps my slit spread for Atticus.
“I wonder how good his cock will look in you,” Atticus mocks, using my words with Pierre against me. “Will you look good in my wife, Kudo?” His head tilts back in the chair as his hand strokes his hard length. “Let’s find out.”