I Choose You (The Billionaire Brothers Series)

by Cole, S. Ann

  The sound of Sarah’s heels clicked away from me, but I didn’t bother opening my eyes, because I was too grossed out at the fact she’d pulled a vibrator out of her vagina and slid it straight into mine.

  Was I frightened at the fact I was about to die? That was a question I was unable to veraciously answer. I didn’t know if I was afraid or not.

  If I was terrified of dying, it was because I didn’t know what comes next. After I stopped breathing, what next? I think I’m more afraid of the unknown than death’s sting. Not being afraid to die just meant I’d always known life was overrated.

  My eyes flickered open when I heard Sarah’s heels clicking back towards me. In her hand, she held two slim clamps that had tiny bells dangling at the ends. Nipple clamps.

  Back in front of me again, she snapped a clamp onto each of my nipples, and I bit down hard on my lip and groaned, not from pain, but from pleasure. My nipples stung, but it was a sweet sting.

  How was I able to feel pleasure in such a drastic situation?

  Sarah grabbed my face with one hand, and before I knew it, her lips were on mine, and her tongue was in my mouth. Raping it. She kissed with such command and firmness, it left no doubt who was in control.

  Roughly ending her mouth rape, she bit and pulled on my bottom lip, and scraped her teeth along my jaw. Next, she began meandering kisses down my neck and collarbone, and soon her tongue was flickering around one clamped nipple. I moaned in sheer ecstasy. This wasn’t supposed to feel good, but it did.

  Sarah was completely focused and controlled, never uttering a word. The only sounds were my own stifled moans, and the faint whisperings of the butches who were having their fill of the show.

  Sarah James, I discovered that night, was a freak.

  And a frigging psycho.

  While she tongued my nipples, one hand traveled down between my spread thighs to slide two fingers inside me. She removed the vibrator, held it up, and gave me a crooked smile. “You’re so turned on, Krissan Kingston.”

  The vibrator went right inside her mouth, and she sucked it off and moved in to kiss me. Flowingly, softly, smoothly.

  Breaking the kiss, she licked her lips and continued, “Just bear in mind when I start sucking on that sweet, pink clit of yours: the quicker you come, the sooner you die. I’d hold out if I were you.”

  Just like that, she dropped down to her knees and began sucking me. I moaned out loud at the sudden attack of pleasure, and even if I wanted to writhe, I couldn’t with my stance. I just had to take it as she gave it.

  And, boy, she was giving it.

  Through hooded eyes, I watched as she used one hand to rub herself, groaning erotic sounds against me. If I said that didn’t send my pleasure-ridden body out of control, I’d be lying. I was going to come. A woman was going to make me come. Sarah James was going to make me come.

  And then, I was going to die.

  The shrill of a ringing cellphone broke through the thick waves of pleasure. Whoever’s phone it was, they let it ring out. But as soon as it stopped ringing, it started again. That made Sarah pause her tongue punishing, and I was glad for the reprieve. Slowly, she turned her head to glare at the group of dazed, horny-looking butches.

  Just glared, no words.

  Braided Butch snapped out of her haze and reached down to feel her pocket. “Oh shit, it’s mine.” She took out her phone and looked at the screen. “Fuck wifey’s timing.”

  Eyes still licentiously raking over me and Sarah, Braided Butch reluctantly got up from her chair and wandered off into distant darkness to answer the call.

  Sarah turned back to me and resumed her punishment.

  Closing my eyes, I began weeping inwardly, unwilling to embrace the intense pleasure I was feeling, because I knew it was wrong. But it wasn’t anything I could control.

  Before I had the chance to be good, I’d chosen to be bad. Because of a boy who had impossible golden eyes and the most perfect hair I’d ever seen. Because of a boy who made my stomach feel weird, and made me dream dreams that would never come true. Because of a boy who made me want and need. He made me choose bad instead of good. That same boy who I stopped loving the minute I started loving him …

  My eyes were wide as I watched the almost naked women dance to bad music on Jahleel’s computer screen. They had big boobies and big bottoms, and they were moving around in ways I knew my new Mom and Dad would disapprove of.

  We were sitting in Jahleel’s bed and were covered under his big, fluffy sheet with his shiny laptop between us. We did that a lot when our Mom and Dad were not at home. Ever since I moved here at six years old, we hid and watched bad stuff on Jahleel’s computer. I was eight now, and we still did it. He never left me alone. He always wanted me to be where he was. But I always wanted to be where he was, too, so it never bothered me that he always took my hand and led me away from Trey.

  I pulled my eyes away from the computer screen and peeked across at the boy I liked with the perfect hair. The boy who I wished wasn’t my brother. That way, I could tell my new friends at my new school I have a boyfriend who has perfect hair and eyes that shine.

  His eyes were like the color of the golden Easter eggs our Sunday school teacher sent us out in the field to search for at Easter time.

  Now they looked dreamy as he watched the women on the screen. So, I asked him, “Do you like them?”

  “Huh?” he said. His eyes were still glued to the screen.

  “The women on the computer. Do you like them?”

  He smiled the smile I liked to see, the one where only one side of his lips tips up, and you only see a little bit of his teeth. But he was still looking at the women on the computer screen and not at me. “Yeah. That’s why I watch them.”

  I played with the edges of his fluffy, red sheet, and asked another question, even though I knew he didn’t like answering lots of questions. “What do you feel when you look at them?”

  His cheeks got red, and he turned his head to look at me. Finally! I just loved it when those eyes looked at me and only me. “I feel a lot of strange feelings. Feelings that make me want to touch them to see how they feel.” His cheeks reddened more and he looked away. “Or touch … myself.”

  “Touch yourself? How?”

  That question made him smile my favorite smile again. He reached over and touched my lips, and I got that weird tummy feeling I always got whenever he touched my lips. “You won’t understand, bad girl. But I will explain one day.”

  He just looked at me. And then he touched me. “What do you feel when you look at me? Do you want to touch yourself, too?”

  His smile disappeared, and his upset look appeared, the one where something flicked in his jaw, then he looked back to the computer screen. “Like I said, you wouldn’t understand.”

  At that very moment, I made myself stop loving him and his stupid hair and his stupid touch. I couldn’t make him feel like the women in the video made him feel. Because I was a little girl with no boobies and no big bottom, and I drank milk and ate cookies.

  I was his sister.

  I wished his stupid parents wouldn’t have adopted me and brought me to this stupid house. Because then I wouldn’t feel this pain in my chest.

  Gripping the edges of his sheet, I made up my mind I wouldn’t let anyone’s touch make me get weird feelings in my tummy again. I would grow boobies and have a big bottom one day, and I would be the one to make boys with perfect hair feel pain in their chests. I was going to be a bad girl. And I would only let myself fall in love with the boy who wants to touch himself when he looks at me.

  With my little mind made up on how my life would be, I asked Jahleel another question without looking at him — because now since I didn’t love him anymore, I didn’t need to look at him when I talked, just like he didn’t look at me, but at the women on the computer screen when he spoke.

  “What happens to bad people?”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw him turn his head to look at me, but I didn’t look a
t him, because he had taught me how to be bad. How to not look at people like they mean anything to me, and how to not feel. “They die.”

  Bad people die.

  I lay back on a pillow and looked up at his pretty painted ceiling. An angel with a golden harp was smiling down at me. Her eyes almost looked as if they were begging me not to make the decision to be bad. Not to make the decision to die.

  But, my mind was already made up, so, I stuck my tongue out at her.

  The vibration of a feral cry forcing its way up my lungs dragged me from my memories. I stiffened, quieted, and then I spiraled down into orgasm’s abyss with an earsplitting scream.

  Sarah made long, feline swipes with her tongue, petting me, until the shudders of my orgasm dissipated.

  Holy mother o’ orgasms!

  Afterwards, she straightened to her feet, took off the nipple clamps, and looked at me. “You taste real good, Miss Kingston. I can see why my fiancé was intrigued.” Her tongue passed over her lips. “Too bad he isn’t anymore.”

  Sarah strode away from me with purpose. A new aim. The fun part was over.

  Too soon, she was back in front of me, holding a small, black gun. My gaze shifted to the butches, and only one of them was watching the scene now. The rest of them were either staring down in their glasses of amber liquid or looking anywhere but at me, waiting for the blow, but not wanting to see it.

  I also noticed Braided Butch’s chair was still empty. That phone call must have been an important one for her to have missed the climax of the scene.

  Raising the hand holding the gun, Sarah laughed wryly and said, “Remember when you were at the club earlier tonight, Krissan Kingston, and you made gun fingers and pretended to blow your head off?”

  I was being followed all night?

  Knowing her question was rhetorical, I didn’t answer.

  “Be careful, everything you do at every second, every minute, every hour, every day of your life is important, no matter how small or trivial it may seem to you. If you don’t want something, don’t wish for it. Because most times, wishes come true.”

  The gun was now aimed right at the center of my forehead. I slammed my eyes shut, squeezing them tight as I waited, because I didn’t know if getting a bullet to the head would be painful or not. So I cut off my sight and waited for the unknown.

  Death.

  Because bad girls die.

  In a sultry voice, I heard her bid, “Say hello to Johnson for me.”

  A loud explosion promptly ensued, and my left ear instantly went deaf as hot heat zinged past it. My right ear began ringing so loud, I wanted to move my hand and cover it. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t move because I was dead.

  “Fuck!” I heard Sarah hiss through my ringing ear.

  Another explosion went off, and then another and another and another. I heard groans, thuds, and more explosions.

  Okay, I was confused. Was I dead or not? If I tried opening my eyes, would I succeed? I tried, and, yes, they opened.

  What I saw made me gasp.

  Sarah was lying on the ground with her right hand clutching her left shoulder, and her gun was resting at distance from her. One of her legs was bent, while the other was straight and bleeding. She was shot in the shoulder and thigh.

  I looked up, and the butches who’d were lined off in front of me earlier, where now scattered in different directions of the room, their guns lying at a distance from them as they all nursed gunshot wounds. The one who wore the red ball cap was gurgling up blood and making choking sounds, her weapon just a slip away from her fingers. Until she stopped gurgling, made a gasping sound, and took her last breath. Dead.

  Shit.

  The only one not nursing a gunshot wound was Braided Butch, who had gotten up to answer her cellphone earlier. But she was held at gunpoint by a steroid-ridden, bald-headed man, her eyes bulging from their sockets as she stared in horror at her dead friend. A pretty blond girl, standing to the left of Braided Butch, was sobbing quietly behind the duct tape plastered across her lips, her hands bound behind her back. I guess she was the wife who phoned earlier?

  Slowly, I shifted my eyes to him.

  But he wasn’t looking at me, he was looking at a crumpled Sarah on the floor as he made his way around prone bodies to get to her. Stopping over her, he aimed his gun at her head just as Natalio shouted, “She’s not worth it, Trev! Don’t.”

  Stilling clutching her bleeding shoulder, Sarah looked up at him and smiled. “Do it, Trev.” She coughed. “I always knew you’d be the death of me.”

  Trevillo’s jaw worked back and forth. “Well, in that case … ”

  I shut my eyes and turned my head, not wanting to see the man I love take someone’s life, even if it was for me. A fusillade of shots went off, until there was just a constant clicking sound.

  Opening my eyes, I looked back at him and saw he’d shifted the gun to the right of Sarah’s head and emptied the clip into the ground instead. I sighed in relief.

  “You’ve always been wrong,” he told her. “You’re the devil’s fucking bride, Sarah.”

  He dropped his gun on her stomach and started to turn away from her, but stopped when she said, “But, Trev, you’re the devil, remember?” She lifted her bloody hand and wiped it across her mouth, leaving smears on blood on her lips. “So, whose bride am I?”

  Making a pained sound, she began clutching her wounded shoulder again. “Let that girl be if you love her this much. You’re noxious. You’re toxic. You’ll destroy her, destroyer.”

  Trevillo didn’t reply; he just stared blankly at her, his jaw working back and forth as if considering her words. He then turned to me, not meeting my eyes, and went straight to unclamping the manacles from around my feet.

  When they were free, he muttered with his head down, “Don’t try moving yet. Gotta undo your arms.”

  His voice was empty, void of any emotion, and I didn’t know which pained more: my sore muscles, or the fact that he wouldn’t look at me.

  Obviously, Sarah had lied about him setting this up and being her fiancé. But there was no point in rejoicing, now that he found me repulsive. If he found it hard to look me in the eyes, that meant he didn’t want me anymore. I was longer his chosen. First it was catching me in the act with Jahleel, and now this.

  With my hands freed, they dropped like dead weight. I couldn’t move even a finger. With the restraints no longer stretching me apart, my debilitated body collapsed forward. Trevillo caught me before I hit the floor, and my head lolled and smacked against his chest.

  Holding me with care, he shifted my feet off the blocks of wood and gently brought them together so he could cradle me. As he started marching off with me in his arms, I felt a jacket being placed over me.

  Looking up, I saw Natalio carefully trying to cover up the horridness of this night.

  “Could you at least pretend to not fucking look, asshole?” Trevillo gritted out.

  Natalio ignored his brother and continued to cover me up as best as he could with the jacket. “This is some messed up shit, man.”

  “Yeah, well, take care of it. It’s what you do best.”

  “What do you want us to do with Milo?” Natalio asked, stepping back now that I was covered.

  “Do I look like I give a shit?”

  Natalio chuckled. “You have her in your arms, safe, and you still can’t be calm for even one goddamn minute?”

  “Fuck you, and fuck calm.” I wasn’t looking at Trevillo, but I could tell he was glowering at his brother. “What if this was Sadie?”

  A menacing shadow passed over Natalio’s face, and he nodded. “Understood.”

  Settling his hands on his hips, Natalio glanced around the cellar and sighed. “Take your girl home, brother. I’ll take care of this mess. I have enough dirt against Sarah to call in a favor from Serg and flip this around, make ourselves look like heroes.”

  Turning his sapphire-blue eyes down to me, he pinched my nose and gave me a compassionate smile. “It’s
good to have you back alive and — ” His sentence was cut off as Trevillo strode off with me. And I could hear him chuckling as we got farther away.

  Weariness hit me with a bang as Trevillo marched out of the cellar, my eyes growing unbearably heavy. Cold air bit into my skin as we reached outside. Through hooded slits, I saw a couple of men in black milling about. A few of them offered Trevillo their assistance with me, but he declined and strode straight to a waiting vehicle, where a suited man held the door open.

  With awkward movements, Trevillo slid into the back, not releasing me. The door closed, and we sped off.

  The smooth ride of the vehicle and the intermittent intrusion of streetlights slicing through the car’s darkness pushed me deeper into drowsiness. Trevillo’s tight hold since he’d cradled me in the cellar never once loosened. Even though he could’ve set me down on the car seat so I would be more comfortable, he didn’t. He just kept me cradled, but never once looked at or spoke to me.

  In a fatigued voice, I let him know, “Trev, I love you.”

  No reply came. But it didn’t matter, I loved him still.

  Just as I was giving in to sleep, I felt a drop of wetness hit my face. Blinking rapidly, I pried open my eyes and peered up at him. Shrouded in desolation, he was staring, unblinking, out the window of the car.

  And he was crying.

  Chapter 29

  K. Kingston

  Staying

  At some point during the break of dawn, I fuzzily awakened, eyes flickering open. I blinked into recognition the familiar surroundings of Trevillo’s bedroom. I was tucked in from the neck down under a thick comforter, and the quiet humming of the air-conditioner was soothing.

  Consciousness brought with it pain, as the aches in my joints penetrated again, reminding me of my near-death experience, while a turbulent headache roared back to existence.

  I wanted to go back to sleep. Being awake was taking too much energy. Lazy as they were, my eyes shifted around the room and stuck on the silhouette of Trevillo. He was sitting in an arm chair in the small sitting area of the room, his shoulders slumped forward, his head in his hands. He was so still, I wondered if he was breathing.