Torn

by Natasha Knight

Gregory doesn’t see me when I walk in to watch him hold a pillow over Sebastian’s face.

  He doesn’t hear me when I step closer. There’s no sound, in fact, not even when he pulls the pillow away and I see it’s not Sebastian at all, but someone else, another man who resembles them.

  Cain?

  I’m confused as I watch Gregory leave. And I have to force my unwilling legs to carry me closer, closer.

  I feel my mouth stretch into a wide grin but I’m sick. I feel sick.

  The skin of my hand, when it reaches for the nightstand drawer is like parchment, spotted and old, the yellowing nails bitten down and jagged.

  I open the drawer, and inside is my pocket knife. I take it out but it’s like I’m resisting myself, like my arm is struggling against itself, but the pull is too great and I’m too weak and when the other hand, this one mine, takes up the dead man’s hand and brings it to the nightstand, tears drop on that dead hand, even as the fingers are splayed out.

  The switchblade is opened, and I turn away from it, turn to the man on the bed and when I see him, when I see Sebastian, I scream.

  I scream and scream and scream until I’m startled awake, jolted upright in my own bed, the room dark, pitch black. The cool breeze of earlier now chilling, freezing.

  I switch on the lamp and rub my face.

  It was a dream. Just a dream.

  11

  Sebastian

  “Mind telling me what the fuck last night was about?”

  I push another log into the fireplace before turning to answer my brother. Fall is fast approaching, and I like these cooler temperatures.

  I straighten, turn to him. I take my time looking at him. I’ve known Gregory since he was a baby. Always liked him better than Ethan but that’s probably because Lucinda liked him about a hair more than she did me.

  But I don’t know my brother.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” I say, turning, pouring myself a whiskey.

  “Haven’t you had enough?” Greg asks when I hold up the bottle, asking if he wants one.

  “Never enough, brother. Am I pouring for you or not?”

  “Yeah.”

  I hand him his glass and we stand drinking, eyes locked, tension thick enough to slice.

  “Last night was me making sure you know she’s mine.”

  “You going to try to take me out of the picture too? Like you did Ethan?”

  I hear the accusation underneath the last part of that remark and I feel my eyes narrow.

  I’ve never told anyone the specifics of what happened with Ethan. No one knows but Helena. No one saw. Lucinda accused me, but there was no evidence.

  But Gregory? He’s never asked.

  And I know for as silent as he is, he sees everything. Always has.

  I turn to the fire, sip my drink. “You know what would have happened if I handed her over to him.”

  “I’m not saying you did the wrong thing, but I’m not Ethan. Or Lucinda. And you’re wrong.” He sits down at his place at the table. “I don’t want her,” he finishes. “Not like you think.”

  “I see how you look at her,” I say, coming toward the table.

  He shifts his gaze to me as I take my seat. “Yeah, well, when you fuck her in front of me, how do you want me to look at her? I’m human, Sebastian. I’m a man. Besides, we made an agreement. And I’m not walking away next time.”

  “I was out of my head last night,” I say by way of apology for something, I’m not sure what.

  “No kidding. But I’m not the enemy.”

  I drink a long swallow of whiskey before meeting his gaze.

  “Thank you for taking care of her.”

  He nods. He’s still pissed, though. I can see it on his face. But we both hear the clicking of shoes from inside the house and turn to find Helena coming outside. She’s wearing skinny jeans and a gray sweater over top and has the sleeves pulled down into her palms.

  “It’s cold,” she says, and walks to stand with her back to the fire.

  I watch her, and she’s being careful to keep her eyes on me.

  Gregory, on the other hand, is looking straight at her, drinking his drink. I wonder if he’s remembering last night.

  Her on her hands and knees getting fucked.

  Her coming.

  “We can eat inside if you’re cold,” I offer.

  She shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. I like it out here. I’m just surprised how quickly it cools off all of a sudden.” She walks over to take her seat and clears her throat before quickly meeting Greg’s eyes and even more quickly blinking away.

  Gregory leans back in his seat, one corner of his mouth curving upward. His words replay in my head.

  “I’m not walking away next time.”

  I get up to pour wine for everyone and dinner is served. It’s probably one of the most awkwardly silent meals we’ve had since Helena’s been on the island.

  By the time we’re finished, we’ve also emptied two bottles of red, much of it into Helena’s glass. I want her relaxed tonight for what needs to happen.

  When the girl comes to clear, I tell her we won’t be having dessert. I speak in Italian and although Helena doesn’t understand, Gregory does, and he gives me a look.

  Helena shudders, hugging her arms to herself.

  “Let’s go inside,” I say, standing, pulling out her seat.

  Once in the living room, I pour whiskey for each of us.

  Helena looks between the two of us when I offer her a glass.

  “I may go to bed,” she says.

  “It’s early. Stay.”

  She opens her mouth to retort, but I push the glass toward her.

  “You’ll stay.”

  She studies my eyes, cautiously takes the glass and drinks a sip.

  Gregory is sitting on one end of the sofa, leaning back, relaxed.

  I take the other end.

  Helena stands awkwardly.

  “Here.” I point to the space between us.

  “What are you doing?” she asks.

  “Offering you a seat.”

  She’s quiet.

  “Sit down,” I say.

  She sits.

  “Drink your drink.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Drink it anyway.”

  She does. She drinks it all down and holds out her empty glass. “Happy?”

  I take it, set it aside, shrug a shoulder.

  “Now can I go?” she asks.

  “No.”

  We lock eyes and I know she knows what’s coming. What I want to happen. And she’s scared.

  I reach out, cup the back of her head with one hand and pull her in to kiss me.

  She pushes against my chest and keeps her lips tightly sealed.

  I draw back, look at her, my hand still on the back of her head, holding her by her hair. I drink my whiskey and turn her, push her toward my brother.

  “You don’t kiss her mouth.”

  Gregory nods.

  I wish I could see her face. I see his. And he’s as unreadable as ever.

  He takes a long swallow of his whiskey before setting his glass down and reaching to place his hand where mine was. He pulls her to him and she shoves back, harder than she did with me. He fists her hair and with his other hand, undoes the top button of her jeans.

  She catches his arm, but he tugs her head backward, closes his mouth over her throat and she lets out a desperate sound.

  Gregory pulls back, eyes dark, searching her face before handing her back to me.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, rising to her feet.

  I rise too, keeping hold of her hair with one hand, unzipping her jeans with the other and sliding my hand inside to cup her pussy.

  I lean in close, rub once. “I just want to see if you’re wet,” I whisper loud enough for my brother to hear.

  Gregory gets up, goes to the liquor cart and pours himself more whiskey before resuming his seat, knees spread wide, leaning back, his arm draped
over the side of the couch as he sips, never taking his eyes off her.

  “Is she?” he asks.

  I rub again, watch her eyes widen, see the color flush her cheeks. I smile.

  “Oh yeah. You should feel for yourself.”

  I pull my hand out and push her toward my brother.

  “Sebastian,” she starts.

  “Quiet, Willow Girl.”

  She turns her face to me. “What are you doing?”

  “Quiet or I’ll gag you and I’d really like to be able to use your mouth.”

  Gregory takes hold of her by the waist of her jeans, stealing her attention.

  She lets out a little cry when he tugs them and her panties down to mid-thigh. His eyes drop to her naked pussy for a moment before he gets to his feet and steps toward her, closing his big hand over her sex.

  Her breathing is short and when he wraps his other hand around the back of her neck, I release her and pick up my own glass to finish my drink before refreshing it.

  I watch them. Watch him kiss her temple, her cheek, the line of her jaw, everything but her mouth. I watch him rub her clit. Watch her face change, her mouth opening, watch her push into his hand.

  I set my glass aside and pull off my sweater.

  Greg turns her to me and leans down to pull her jeans and panties off before rising to draw her sweater over her head, unhook her bra and strip her bare.

  I pull her to me, kiss her, cup her pussy while Gregory strips off his shirt and kisses the back of her neck, the curve of her shoulder, her back.

  I collect her hair and lift it up, tilt her head so her ear is to my mouth. “When you come, you only come with me, understand? And you look only at me.”

  She nods, her eyes wide.

  “Undo my jeans,” I tell her.

  She does, her fingers fumbling a little.

  “Now take me out.”

  She reaches in, cups my cock and draws it out, her hungry eyes locked on mine.

  “Good girl. Do the same for my brother.”

  She turns, is a little more hesitant with him.

  He leans in, pushes her hair from her ear, cups the back of her neck. “I don’t bite,” he whispers, taking the lobe of her ear between his teeth, grinning as he counters what he just said.

  She gasps, her hands on his chest, trembling as they travel down over his belly to undo his jeans.

  I wrap my hand around to rub her pussy, taking her clit between thumb and forefinger and kissing her shoulder.

  “That’s it. You’re doing good,” I say.

  Gregory has a one-sided grin on his face and waits patiently as she takes his jeans down, looks down at his ready cock. Cups it and licks her lips.

  I put one hand on her shoulder and push her to her knees and she opens her mouth and takes him in and Gregory puts one hand on the top of her head like he’s blessing her.

  He closes his eyes and exhales a breath.

  I move to sit on the couch, picking up my whiskey, drinking, watching her suck his cock, watching as he cups the back of her head and holds her as he pushes in deeper.

  She resists, pushing against his thighs.

  Gregory’s hand fists in her hair, holds her in place.

  “Easy, brother. Mine’s the first dick she sucked.”

  “So, she’s almost a virgin,” Gregory says, easing out of her mouth, sitting on the sofa and picking up his drink.

  Helena remains kneeling between us.

  “You don’t make her come unless I say,” I tell Gregory. “And you don’t kiss her mouth. Ever.”

  “Understood.” He sets his drink down. “Stand up,” he tells her.

  Helena glances at me and I give her a nod. She stands.

  “Now come here.”

  Obediently, she goes to him.

  He takes hold of her hips and pulls her closer, using his thumbs to open the lips of her wet pussy. He leans his head in and licks and she gasps and grips his shoulders to remain standing.

  With one tug, he has her straddling him, her knees on either side of his thighs. He takes one nipple into his mouth and she’s still holding onto his shoulders, watching the top of his head and a moment later, he draws back to look at me.

  “Fuck her cunt. I want her ass.”

  I stand up, move behind her and wrap her hair around my fist, turn her to look at me, kiss her as my brother draws her down, and the moment he sheathes himself on her, I steal her exhale, swallow it.

  “She’s tight, brother,” Greg says, his voice husky.

  “She is. Tight and wet.” I knead her nipple, turning it between my fingers. When her breath hitches, I squeeze. “If you come on his dick, I’ll punish you, understand?”

  She nods and Greg smiles.

  I disappear into the kitchen, return a moment later with the bottle of olive oil and push my jeans and briefs off.

  Gregory grips her hips and drops to his knees on the floor.

  I kneel behind her, listening to her as I rub olive oil all over my dick and I know it takes all she has not to come right now. I can hear it in the way she breathes, in the wet sounds of her cunt.

  “Soon, Helena,” I say.

  She turns her head back and kisses me. “I can’t. Please.”

  I give a shake of my head. “You’d better.” With that, I close my mouth over hers and smear olive oil over her tight little asshole.

  She mewls. Begs again.

  “Fuck, she’s going to come,” Greg says. “I feel it.”

  I slap Helena’s ass with one hand while pushing one slick finger into her ass.

  “You ready to take us both?”

  She nods because she’s on the edge.

  She leans forward a little, offering me her ass as she grips Greg’s shoulders.

  I press a second finger to smear the oil inside her. I look at my brother, give a nod and he pulls out and when he does, I push in and she cries out in pain or pleasure or both.

  Greg cups her face, watches her for a moment before turning it, kissing her neck just beneath her ear as I push deeper, and she cries out again, her tight ass squeezing my cock.

  “Let me in, Helena. Relax.”

  I reach around, rub her soaking clit and a moment later, she has her first orgasm and I push in as she does, and she throws her head back onto my shoulder and I see her nails digging into my brother’s shoulders and her eyes are closed and she’s coming so hard, I won’t be able to hold on for long.

  “Fuck.”

  I’m all the way in and I hold there for a minute, enjoying the tight squeeze of her asshole before pulling out a little as Greg pushes into her pussy.

  Helena’s falling apart begging for more, begging for us to stop, clinging to Gregory, reaching for me and we fuck her hard and fast and she’s never empty, not until we both blow inside her, her cunt and ass stretched tight, taking both of us, shuddering with her own orgasm until she slumps forward over Gregory’s shoulder, her arms dropping to her sides, limp, and useless.

  12

  Helena

  Gregory pulls out first and when he does, I feel the rush of cum, his and mine, slide out of me.

  I blink away, his gaze too intense, too much.

  He’s beautiful when he comes. His eyes go soft. It’s the only time they do that.

  I watched him, just for a little. I know Sebastian said eyes on him, but I had to.

  Sebastian slides out of me and I have to hold on to Gregory when he does. I’m so sensitive right now. Everything is throbbing, and I know if they touch me again, I’ll break apart.

  I turn in Sebastian’s arms, meet his eyes as he stands, lifts me with him. I can’t read him. I can’t ever read him. I turn my face into his chest, soft skin over hard muscle. I inhale the scent of him, feel his strength as he, without a word, walks to the stairs and begins to climb them.

  When I open my eyes, it’s to look back to see Gregory there, watching us.

  His eyes find mine and hold them, just for a moment, before he breaks our gaze and walks outside and
all I can think is that he’s alone. Even after this, he’s still alone.

  Sebastian carries me to his room, lays me on his bed.

  I start to rise. “I need to shower.”

  He shakes his head, slips in beside me. “I like the smell of sex on you. I like knowing my cum is still inside you.”

  I lean up, kiss him, but he pulls back.

  “I know,” he says.

  “Know what?”

  “I know you looked back. You looked back at him.”

  He sees everything.

  “And you looked at him when you came.”

  “I wanted to watch him come. He’s beautiful. Like you.”

  And lonely, I think.

  I think that more and more.

  Sebastian doesn’t say anything, and I sit up, lean my back against the headboard, and the soreness reminds me how he had me. How they both had me.

  “What are we doing?” I ask him.

  He studies my eyes, and I, his.

  “Fucking,” he says, his tone harder. He gets up, goes into the bathroom. I hear water run and he returns a moment later drying himself. He remains standing.

  “It’s not just fucking.”

  “What is it, then?”

  “I don’t know. He’s alone, Sebastian.”

  “Do you want to go to him?”

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  “But he’s alone.”

  “You looked at him when you came.”

  I don’t reply but what I see in his eyes, it reflects my own confusion. Like he’s somehow torn.

  “Why did you look at him?”

  “I wanted to see.”

  His forehead creases, he’s trying to understand.

  “Punish me,” I say.

  He’s still for a long time.

  “Punish me for it.”

  He seems to think about this for a long time until he finally gives me a nod and sits on the edge of the bed.

  “Come here, Helena.”

  I slide off the bed and go to him, stand between his knees. He takes my hands, looks at me for the longest time and I feel tears build behind my eyes. I don’t know why, though.

  What we did, he wanted it. I wanted it. But this, him looking at me like this, Sebastian the most cruel and the most tender. I don’t understand my feelings for him. I don’t understand this confusion of emotions, this warring inside me.