by K. I. Lynn
“You do, do you?” The soft, implied deadliness in his voice. That barely leashed fury.
Why do I love it when he’s jealous? Why? “Uh-huh.” My legs shake harder.
“I’m going to ask you again, baby: is that why you’re thinking about my dick inside you right now?”
I want to hurt him.
Want to fuck him.
God, I want him to keep talking but at the same time, I just want him to shut the fuck up.
I hate when he reaches inside me, grasping at bitter truths I don’t want to acknowledge.
Brayden groans, and the sound is so blatantly sexual that I know he’s doing it on purpose again. Fucking with me. Proving once more the power he has over my body. “Slide it back in, Kira. No, only halfway, baby. Soft, shallow thrusts.”
It’s like he’s in the room, watching every move I make.
“Now slide it back out. Go slow. All the way to the tip.”
I do as he says, feeling my walls clench around the dildo. My body doesn’t want to let it go. It’s not Brayden, but with his voice in my ear, I can almost pretend it is.
“Don’t thrust it in, yet. Hold it there. Right at the tip.”
“No.” My head thrashes side to side. I want to disobey him. Slam the cock in my hand into me. “I need more.”
“Not . . . yet. Pulsate on the tip. I’m squeezing mine right now, imagining it’s your tight pussy.”
The way this man talks undoes me. A fresh wave of resentment floods me as I think about all the women who have had that cock in them, his sexy voice talking dirty in their ear.
I could have it if I wanted to take it.
But I hate him too much to give him that.
My chest convulses and a pained cry leaves me.
“Baby,” Brayden whispers in a sad tone.
“Let me fuck myself.” Why am I not doing it? Why am I still obeying him?
“Not yet, Kitty. Just a little more.”
“It hurts,” I whine, aching.
“I know, baby. But I’m going to make it all better. I promise.”
“You can’t!” It boggles my mind that he can’t understand it. This heartbreak has become warped. Misshapen. It not longer even resembles heartbreak, but something more akin to trauma.
It’s unfixable.
I’m unfixable.
There’s no going back.
And yet my body is hungrier than ever, my soul grasping at the tattered connection between us.
“Kira, listen to me.”
“Please,” I beg, and there are tears in my eyes. I need him to make me come, to moan in my ear while the orgasm tears through me.
Then, I have to hang up the phone on him and sever this connection once more.
“Then do it. Slam it into you. Use all your strength like I would if I was there fucking you with my cock.”
I do as he says, thrusting the dildo deep.
My back arches, body locked up. I’m coming so hard I can’t control the loud moans leaving me.
“Say my name, Kira. Say it!”
I do, repeatedly, my hips churning to meet each thrust.
“Oh God, baby. The way you say my name. You ready for me? Ready for my come?”
He’ll never know how fucking much.
Brayden yells out. “Fuck, baby! Fuck, I love you.”
Pain.
Pleasure.
My soul grasps at the flimsy remnants of that connection again, trying to rebuild it somehow.
“I love you, Kira. I fucking love you. So much. God, I need your pussy.”
I’m still coming as I hang up the phone on him, cutting off his rambling.
I’m still coming as that first tear slides out of my eye.
I yank the dildo out of me and jerk upright, throwing it away from me. Covering my face with my hands, I struggle to pull myself together.
Impossible. I’m torn apart.
Broken.
Exposed.
No. No. No. I’m not this girl anymore. I no longer fall apart for Brayden Hunt.
I’m stronger than this. I can’t go back to being that shattered little girl he left behind.
Sniffing, I wipe at my wet eyes and get up to continue getting ready. I can’t stop him from going to that party, but I won’t stop myself from going either.
I’ll just have to ignore him.
I will.
He snuck past some defenses the last few weeks. I wasn’t careful enough.
That’s over now.
I’m going to build those defenses back up.
And no matter what it costs me, I’m going to convince that man to move on and leave me alone. I’m going to make him believe he has no power over me.
Somehow.
I expected to get many reactions to my costume choice.
I expected wrong.
Reactions isn’t quite the right term for what’s happening.
The guys here are practically trying to grope me. As soon as I walk into the large foyer, all heads turn in my direction.
I’m wearing a black bra-top that pushes my breasts out ridiculously. Paired with it is a tiny black and pink tutu, and matching fur leg warmers. The large black and pink cat ears on my head also match the fingerless gloves on my hands.
Yeah, I’m showing a lot of skin, but so are a lot of the girls here. I don’t understand why the guys are overreacting like this.
Dodging a guy I don’t even know, I make my way to the other side of the foyer. I see Austin to my left, hanging with Craig.
Talk about showing a lot of skin. His gladiator costume leaves most of his body on display.
It’s a gorgeous, bronzed body, cut to perfection. A body I once had between my legs.
I felt almost nothing then; I feel the same now.
He catches sight of me and turns sharply in my direction. An eerie stillness falls over him as he takes in my costume with a hunter’s eye.
Austin’s going to come to me. I sense it.
A hand reaches under my tutu and squeezes one ass cheek.
“Hey! What the fuck?” I fly around, ready to break a motherfucker’s nose.
It’s Emma, one of the girls in my school. She’s dressed as a punk rocker, her dark hair streaked with purple. “Damn, girl, you look fucking yummy tonight.” She’s blatantly bisexual, and she gives no fucks about grabbing whatever she wants.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been groped by her.
“Emma, I’ve told you before. I’m a cock girl only.”
She sighs wistfully. “Yeah, and every time I hear it, it makes me wish I had a dick to give you, babes.”
I shake my head and smile. “You like dick, too. Remember?”
“I’d give it up for you.”
Oh, she’s smooth. I’ll give her that.
“Speaking of dick . . .” Her head turns in the direction I’d seen Austin in. “Looks like you’ve got an eager one heading straight to you.”
Before I can turn toward Austin, I sense an odd silence fall over the foyer. As if everyone’s attention is focused on a single thing.
Confused, I look at everyone and see all the women staring toward the entrance. All the guys stare at the girls, then turn their heads to see what they’re looking at.
Brayden.
He just walked in and is standing at the large double doors, right beneath the giant crystal chandelier that dominates the ceiling of the foyer.
It hurts. In every cell in my body, seeing him hurts.
He’s looking around with one eye due to the patch that accompanies his costume, but I know, I just know he’s looking for me.
I’m drowning. This is beyond what I can handle. The world around me is disappearing, zeroing in on him and only him.
And I can’t fight this. I . . .
I have to get away. At least for a few minutes. Gather some semblance of rationality.
I’ve never been this ready for a man in my life. If I don’t leave, now, I’m going to grab him, right here, in front of every sing
le person in this place, and I’m going to fucking devour him.
So, I turn around and head straight for the stairs, taking them as fast as I can, hoping there is some place in this huge house where I can hide from him.
My phone’s dead in my left hand.
My eyes are locked on my right hand. The same hand I’m currently holding up. The same hand covered in my come.
This girl made me fucking come all over my hand and then hung up the phone on me.
And she came, loud as fuck in my ear, while fucking herself with a dildo.
That’s the last cock other than mine that’s going to go in there. Next time that pussy gets stretched open, it’ll be by me. My fingers. My dick.
Temple throbbing, I rush to wash my hands and throw on my makeshift costume. Once I’m dressed, I slam into my car and peel out of my parking spot. The drive from Columbus usually takes just over an hour. I make it in less than that, but even that takes too fucking long.
Before exiting my car, I send a text to Kira. I’m here. Where are you? I don’t even know why I try reaching her phone. Even if she sees it, she won’t respond.
No. Because she doesn’t want me here.
Tough fucking luck. I’m here.
So is Austin.
Therefore, I sure as hell belong here.
I honestly don’t know why I’m so mad right now, but there’s this volcanic throbbing in the pit of me. Brutal energy coalesced into an impending detonation.
I need to calm the fuck down. Sure, years of wanting the girl have merged with the torture of the last few months. My mind’s totally screwed.
Stepping just inside the open doors, I try to spot her among the dozens of people here. In the back of my mind, I register how most of them stop to stare at me.
My eye bounces off the crowd’s faces.
I spot Austin first, dressed in some ridiculous gladiator costume. What a fucking douchebag. He’s walking with an intent that’s unmistakable. So is the look on his face. I follow his stare.
Fucking knew it.
Son of a bitch, what the hell is she wearing?
Here we go again.
I cut a path through everyone in my way, following Kira to the large staircase.
Don’t know who she’s running away from, but I’m going to be the one to catch her.
She’s halfway up the stairs by the time I reach the bottom.
That tutu doesn’t cover shit. Her tiny as hell underwear are bare for the whole world to see.
So is her ass when staring from down here.
Goddamn this girl.
That’s mine. All of it. Enough is enough.
I follow her, as I’m always doing lately. There’s a certainty that grows with every step take, one I can’t even begin to describe.
Kira turns left down the hall, and I speed up to catch her. She’s halfway down another hallway when I get within a few feet and reach out for her.
The certainty solidifies.
It’s over. I’m done giving her the choice. Even if she ends up fucking despising me even more than she already does, this bullshit ends now.
She’s going to admit she’s mine. Tonight. My mind's made up.
I take that last step, reach out, and turn her around. That beautiful little demon glares at me. Her eyes caress me, anger mixing with lust, and I know I’ve got her.
We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be—on the same page. Ready to fucking devour each other.
Locked by the same desire-fueled rage.
“What the fuck do you want?” she growls.
“What the fuck were you thinking when you decided to wear that?” I growl back.
“What the fuck were you thinking when you decided to wear that?”
It’s one of those moments when someone’s audacity just leaves you utterly speechless. That’s me right now. Jaw completely unhinged. Anger skyrocketing to a whole new level.
Who the hell does he think he is asking me that? Did he see himself before leaving his damn apartment?
His pirate costume was obviously put together last minute, probably with clothes he already had in his closet, but that only makes it look more rugged. The light beige shirt he’s wearing has a wide-open collar and he rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, leaving his forearms exposed. The black leather vest he threw on top of it has gold buttons and adds the perfect touch, and matches the leather combat boots on his feet.
Mussed-up hair, light jeans, the thick leather bracelets encircling his large wrists . . . the eyepatch covering one of his gorgeous eyes. The exposed eye is narrowed and glaring at me.
He looks just as dangerous as he is.
No, his costume doesn’t show nearly as much skin as mine does, but it’s just as bad. I heard him walk into the house—and by that I mean I heard the collective sighs that left the mouths of every female within eyesight of him.
He knew damn well what he was doing when he put on that costume.
“You have a lot of nerve asking me that.”
“You’re wearing a bra!” he snaps, his expression hard. Vicious. His jaw twitches, and he takes a step toward me.
It requires every ounce of strength in me to step back. “It’s not a bra, it’s part of the costume—”
“I saw your ass in that fucking tutu while you were walking up the stairs!”
“And?” I knew how short the black tutu was when I decided to buy it, but it matched perfectly with the black and pink cat ears on my head.
Brayden’s hand shoots out, latching on to said tutu. He yanks me into him, pretty much growling in my face.
My heart beat drops between my legs, pounding, sending blood rushing to my clit.
“If I saw it, everyone else did,” he says, enunciating each word slowly, his breath sliding between my lips. His scent is too strong now that he has me so close.
Oh God. “I . . . and?” Speech has left me and that’s all I can give him, because I can barely think clearly. It’s a fog—a hot, needy fog. I’m suffocating. I . . . fuck, I want him, and he hasn’t let me go.
His fist tightens around my black tutu. He pops his jaw and leans down into me, lips right there. So close. “How many fucking times am I going to tell you that you’re mine, Kira?” His eye flickers up to my cat ears and back. “My Kitty. No one gets to see what’s mine but me.”
My heart gives a wild kick.
No. No.
I can’t be excited about this. I refuse to admit just how turned on it makes me when he gets possessive like this. I am not his. Never will be. He has no right.
“You’re going home right now and changing.”
Motherfucker. “Get off me,” I hiss, anger mixing, churning, reminding me that I can’t have him no matter how much I fucking want him.
He doesn’t answer for a beat, that single, emerald eye glinting in the dim light of the hallway. Then he shakes his head one time. “No.”
I grab his stupid, sexy shirt and push him back, right into the wall. “I told you—”
Holy fucking shit.
I stop mid-sentence, eyes locked on what I’ve accidentally exposed, my brain misfiring. Brayden’s heart races under my hand, but the rest of him remains still. So still. I yank the shirt further aside, fully exposing the left side of his chest—
And the stylized K tattooed right onto his left pectoral.
What. The. Fuck?
“Brayden, there you are!”
Brayden tenses and lets go of my tutu as if burned.
All the while, my eyes are locked on that stupid, beautiful K.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Jennifer says, coming closer.
I bet she has. She, like every whore in this house, wants him.
She, like almost all of them, has had him.
That K on his chest seems glaringly bright, making it almost impossible to pull my attention away.
But I do, somehow looking away and letting go of his shirt. For the same reason that Brayden rushes to cover his chest—because he�
��s my fucking stepbrother, and no one can really know what’s going on between us.
Especially a jealous skank like Jennifer, who will run to tell everyone in town.
“What do you want, Jenn?” he asks her.
Her eyes light up as if he’s straight up told her he wants to drag her into the nearest bedroom and have sex with her. Giggling, she twirls her hair and bites the corner of her lip, eyes eating him up just as mine had earlier. “There was something I wanted to show you.”
Translation: she’s ready to bare her crotch and let him have at it.
I should be immune to this by now. It shouldn’t matter.
It does, and I want to fucking tear her eyes out.
I can’t.
So I clench my fists and stand here, seething, hating myself because I still care.
“I’m busy talking to Kira.”
Jennifer blinks as if surprised and finally realizing I’m here.
Bullshit. She knew. But like everyone else, she suspects something and therefore has no qualms about blatantly laying a claim on Brayden. She knows she can and I can’t, and she’s rubbing it in my face.
“Oh . . . well, as soon as you’re done talking to your sister, can you please come find me so I can show you?” The almost innocent way she stares at him, eyes wide, makes me sick to my stomach. But not as sick as what Brayden says next.
“Sure.”
What?
Jennifer giggles and gives him this flirty little smile. Her eyes cut in my direction, and I don’t miss the way they flash with malice. Nor the way she seems to be silently gloating.
Like I give a fuck. Oh, no. She can gloat all she wants. That’s not what I’m focused on right now.
My initial is fucking tattooed onto his skin, and he just agreed to go find her after he “finishes” with me?
Jennifer turns at the end of the hall, heading down the stairs.
“Kira—”
I snap.
Later on, I’ll probably look back on this moment and hate myself for the way I lose all control, but nothing matters right now except the obvious.
This man has spent months of his life trying to convince me I’m his. He’s marked his body with symbols of me. Which tells me he knows the truth.
