by Angel Lawson
This is fucking evil.
Killian is never going to be my saving grace.
“I’ll tell your dad,” I blurt, panicking. Normally I’m not a narc. Snitches get stitches and all that. I’ve never told on Killian for the other things he’s done; the weed, the porn, the party he threw a few months ago where two girls left crying. Secretly, I hoped that keeping my mouth shut might make him warm to me, at least a little. Clearly, I was wrong. But the thing about Killian’s dad is that he likes me. “I’ll tell him that you let them do it.”
Killian’s face shutters, his brown eyes staring blankly back at me. “Just because my dad has some idiotic weakness for sluts doesn’t mean he’d choose you over me.”
The way he says it, the emphasis on the word slut, makes me wonder if he knows what his father is doing, what he tried to do, but I’m desperate so I continue, “If you let me go, we can pretend this never happened, okay? I won’t—I will never say a thing, Killian, I swear.”
Abruptly, he barks out a harsh laugh. “You’re such a fucking idiot. I really hope your tits get bigger, because that’s clearly all you’ve got going for you. You really think I’d let trash like you live under my roof and not come up with some leverage of my own?”
“Leverage?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. Tristian’s still holding my neck and his thumb keeps sweeping up to my jaw, stroking little circles into it. Each caress sends a tremor across my limbs. Nausea rolls in my belly as my stepbrother holds up his phone. I only have to see a glimpse of the screen to know what he’s talking about. He smirks when he sees the recognition on my face.
“That’s right, Sweet Cherry. You say a word about me and my friends, and I’ll show my idiot dad, who thinks you’re the most innocent little snowflake, exactly what you’ve been doing online.” He flips through the Sugar Baby account I made, including the photos I’ve posted. I look far from innocent. “Quite the little lucrative business you’ve got going on, Cherry. You may be a virgin but you’re far from innocent. I mean, who’s to say anyone would even believe you after seeing this? You, slutting it up just like your gold-digging mother? Tsk tsk.” He taps the phone on his chin, eyes full of amusement. “Nah, I think you’ll give my boys exactly what they want.”
Fuck.
The Plan. I need quick money, and that’s the only way I’m going to get it, but worse is the threat of Killian’s dad finding out.
“I’ll give you a cut of the money,” I say, breath coming in frantic gasps when Tristian’s grip tightens around my throat. “Whatever I make, I’ll give you a quarter. No. Half of it!”
Killian barks a dark laugh. “That’s fucking rich. You giving me money? You two hearing this shit?”
Tristian smiles and it lights up his whole face. “Oh, Sweet Cherry, we don’t want your money. I thought we made that clear.” His face tips down into mine and he runs his nose down my cheek. His breath is hot, reeking of beer, and my skin crawls. He looks back at Rath. “How do we want to do this? Who gets to pop this delicious little cherry?”
Do this?
Rath wagers, “You fuckers owe me for last month.”
Tristian scoffs. “Eat shit, that’s nowhere near equal value. You still owe me for Sophomore year.”
“You’re still on about that?” Rath complains, face hardening. “Fine. Three thousand and my guitar.”
Hot tears spring to my eyes. This can’t be happening. They’re negotiating over me like a piece of meat. “Please don’t do this,” I beg. “Don’t hurt me. I’ll give you whatever you want, just don’t…take that.”
“Ah, the begging,” Rath groans, hand coming down to cup his crotch. “Fine, four thousand.”
My knees buckle, but Tristian’s hands move to my arms, holding me up. Rath slides behind me, hands cinching around my waist. I make eye contact with Killian again, silently pleading with him. His gaze is cold. Uncaring. It’s more than obvious he doesn’t give a damn about what happens to me. That’s why it shocks me when he says, “Neither of you are fucking her.”
Tristian and Rath both freeze, turning to look at him.
“Do whatever else you want to, I don’t care, but…” He rakes his fingers through his hair, looking away, jaw tight. “The last thing I need is for her to bleed out all over the laundry room floor. I’m not cleaning that shit up, and I’m sure as hell not explaining it to my dad.”
“The biggest value a girl has is her innocence,” Daniel told me that night in his office. His words, his hands, made my stomach twist painfully. “Who you give that gift to, Story, will be the most important decision you make.”
Did Killian get that same lecture? Something tells me he did.
Rath mutters a curse of disappointment in my ear, but Tristian’s eyes sweep over me, undeterred. He takes a step back and says, “Fine. Let’s see your tits.”
It’s a demand, and although I should fight back and say no, I’m scared that Killian will tell my mom and Daniel about my Sugar Baby account.
Rath doesn’t give me more time to think about it anyway, grabbing the straps of my tank top and shoving them down my arms. He grunts behind me and I feel his gaze over my shoulder. Tristian licks his lips and reaches for me, his fingers grazing the underneath of my breast. “A little small, but soft. Am I the first one to touch them?”
I clamp my mouth shut and glare defiantly, refusing to let them take anything else personal away from me. He grins wickedly and pinches my nipple. I yelp in response and try to twist away. Rath doesn’t let me move far, holding me against his solid body. The proximity makes it impossible not to feel the hard bulge in his pants.
“I asked you a question, Sweet Cherry.” Tristian’s fingers circle lazily around my other nipple, waiting.
“Yes,” I grind out, lying. “You’re the first.”
“Thank you.” He tweaks me softly, sending a flare of traitorous sparks down my body.
“Dude,” Killian says, “I know you’re having a bad week and working some shit out here, but my dad will be home soon. Whatever you’re going to do, just get on with it.”
Tristian runs his thumb over my mouth, eyes fixed to the movement. “Get on your knees.”
There’s no mistaking what he wants me to do, and after Killian told him to hurry, he picks up his pace. There’s no time to process as he unbuckles his belt and pulls down his jeans. He’s not wearing underwear and his penis is just as hard as it’d felt under my palm before. It’s big, straining at the skin and pointing right at me. I stare down at it, frozen in shock until Rath’s hands bear down on my shoulders, forcing me to my knees.
To my horror, Rath comes down with me, still aligned with my back. I hear his zipper lower while one hand snakes around to grope my breast.
“What are you doing?” I ask, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice.
“Watching,” he says, nipping at my earlobe. “Feeling. Getting off. There’s more than one way to enjoy a girl.”
I take one last look at my stepbrother, one last chance to hope he’s come to his senses. There has to be something human inside of him. I refuse to believe otherwise. But I don’t find any sympathy there. God, no. I find him in the process of shoving his hand down his shorts and pulling his own cock out. He leans back against the door jamb and takes two long strokes as he watches. The movement is obscene and strangely hostile. It looks like a warning.
Tristian’s fingers touch me under the chin, and he redirects my gaze upward, toward his icy eyes. “Open up, Sweet Cherry. I want your eyes on me the whole time. I want to see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock. I want to see it when I come and you swallow it down. I want you to watch me while it happens.” He licks his lips, thumbing my mouth open. “Understood?”
I nod, understanding everything. Understanding that no one, not even family, is going to save me. Understanding that this is all life is for me now, one sicko after another, lining up to take something from me. Someone a little more naïve might think it was bad luck.<
I know better.
I open my mouth and take him in.
I close my eyes and try to shut everything out, to curl into the back of my brain the way I’ve learned. It isn’t me doing this. This is just automatic. Something else has taken over my body and I’m watching it, locked away somewhere safe.
I can’t quite get to that place this time, though.
Tristian makes a low sound, hand fisting in my hair as my lips slide up his shaft. Rath’s breaths are loud against my ear and his touch is inescapable, hand cupping my breast, rolling my nipple between forefinger and thumb.
“Never sucked a dick before, have you Cherry?” Tristian’s thumb prods at my cheek, and despite his disapproving words, his voice emerges in a pained rasp. “You realize that’s where the real money is, don’t you? Daddies would pay a sweet penny for some head if you can do it right.” He tightens his grip on my hair and thrusts into my mouth.
I sputter angrily around his cock, jerking back.
He holds me still. “I thought I told you to look at me. Not very good at following instructions, are you?”
My hands curl into tight fists against my side, but I do it. I pry my eyes open and wrench them up, meeting Tristian’s glazed eyes.
“That’s a girl,” he says, patting my head like I’m a dog. “I’ll make this easy on you.”
It’s laughable. Easy. Nothing about this is easy. I’m trying so hard to ignore the sight of Killian in my periphery, of Rath’s hand skating down my ribs, that I’m taken by surprise when Tristian starts thrusting in and out of my mouth. My hands shoot up to his hips, holding him back, but his eyes narrow, grip tightening in my hair.
“Either I fuck your mouth or you get better at this. Your choice, Story.”
I hold his hips, glaring up at him even though my eyes are welling with tears. And then I start bobbing my head. I’m pretty sure blow jobs aren’t supposed to be like this—bitter and angry in the way I work my tongue against him. I look into his eyes as I do it, watch them dilate, jaw slackening. Now, it’s more of a promise than a blow job.
A promise that these boys aren’t going to break me.
“Fuck,” Tristian breathes, feet shifting. “Yeah, that’s it. Shit, she’s really doing it.”
I can feel Rath behind me, the bounce of his arm as he jerks himself. His hand snakes down my stomach, shoving into the waistband of my shorts, and I know better now than to fight.
Doesn’t mean I don’t try.
“Shh,” he says into my ear. “Relax.” Despite what’s happening here, his fingers are slow and teasing when they push into my panties, shoulders curling around me. I already know what he’s going to find down there, but it doesn’t make it any less humiliating when he pauses. He whispers low into my ear, “Should I tell them how wet you are for this?”
My fingers are digging bruises into Tristian’s hips, but he doesn’t even seem fazed.
“I don’t think I will,” Rath decides, fingers rubbing tight circles around my clit. “Now we can both have a secret. Keep your mouth shut about mine and maybe I won’t tell everyone how much of a slut you are for all three of us. You are, aren’t you?” His chuckle is warm and damp against my ear. Loud enough for the others to hear, he adds, “You could be ours, you know. We could take turns. We don’t mind sharing if it’s with each other.”
My angry tears spill over, making hot tracks down my face. Tristian keeps his eyes locked on mine, but brings his hand to my cheek, thumbing them away. “Don’t cry, now. We’re just having a good time. You want us to have a good time, don’t you?” My only response is the way I stare at him, wet-eyed and full of hate. He sighs as I suck him. “I don’t get it, Killer,” he says, talking to my stepbrother. “Used to be, we could show a girl a little attention and she’d trip over her own feet to be ours. Nowadays, all these bitches do is fuck around.”
He fists a hand in my hair, yanking me deeper onto his dick, glazed eyes flashing. It makes me cry harder, because that, combined with what Rath is doing to me, is making my hips want to grind into Rath’s hand, and god.
It’s the worst part of all of this, knowing that Rath could be right.
Maybe this is what I am.
A magnet for creeps, something to be used, and a slut for all of it.
Tristian’s head falls back, eyes falling closed, and I’m grateful for the reprieve when the sharp, building ache between my legs reaches a full crescendo, clenching as Rath moves with the movement of my hips. The reprieve doesn’t last long. Tristian thickens and pulses in my mouth, his thick, salty release surging against my tongue. He cups the back of my head and presses me close, holding me there as he empties himself between my lips.
Behind me, Rath grunts, yanking me against his chest, and I’m caught in the middle of them, being pulled two different ways. I hear more than see Killian finish, his rough, breathless groan startling me.
Tristian pulls out of my mouth, but not before he grabs my hair and rasps out, “You know what to do now, don’t you?”
Rath takes his hands out of my shorts and grabs my jaw, forcing my chin up. “Swallow him down, pretty girl.”
It takes me three tries to do it without gagging, but I hold Tristian’s gaze as I obey, swallowing his release. I hope it looks like how Killian had before—hostile—a warning—instead of showing this lost, aching thing in my chest.
“Good,” he says, stroking my cheek. “You’re so good for us, aren’t you, Cherry?”
I don’t know how I manage to get my feet under me, but I do. I clamp my hand over my mouth as I bolt away, the sound of their breathless chuckles following in my wake.
1
Killian
Three Years Later
There’s a knock at the door. “Yo, Killian, time for our first interview.”
“Yeah, give me five minutes.” I grimace. “Maybe ten.”
“Martin isn’t going to wait ten.” It’s Tristian’s voice. He must have just returned from the job on the South Side. “And neither am I.”
I look into my dresser mirror, taking in the rippling hard muscles I’ve spent the last three years refining as starting quarterback on the Forsyth University football team. My body is a work of well-crafted art, and I’m not even talking about the ink covering my arms and chest. It’s designed to dominate. My eyes then shift down to the girl in front of me, bent over the flat surface. Between her big, possibly fake tits, the gold charm from her sorority necklace bounces with every thrust of my hips. Her teeth bare down on her bottom lip.
“Five minutes,” I say again, but it comes out in a grunt that Tristian may not have heard. I don’t give a fuck, slamming into her harder. The mirror bangs against the wall, and the girl—I think her name is Cheryl, possibly Sherry—lets out this sharp, pained whimper. I smirk at her reflection. “That hurt, honey?”
“Y-yes,” she squeaks, brows squeezing together. “A little.”
I grab a bunch of her bleach-blonde hair in my fist and yank it back, growling, “Good.”
It’s getting harder and harder for me to come without a little pain added to the mix. I’ve been pounding into this girl for forty minutes and only now do I feel the tingle in my balls that lets me know that my orgasm is finally building. That whimper, the pinch of pained upset on her face, is swiftly getting me there.
I close my eyes and set my rhythm. Despite the blonde under me, my mind conjures up long dark hair, pale creamy skin, and blue eyes filled with just as much hatred as fear. The ache in my cock builds, tension coiling tighter with every thrust. I reach around to—maybe Shanna’s—chest and grab her tits, pinching her nipples between my fingers.
“Killian, stop,” she begs, trying to pry my hands from her flesh. She squirms, twisting in an attempt to get away, and that finally triggers the orgasm. I pump into her hips, slamming hard and violent into her from behind. Her cunt squeezes around me. Well, as tight as her well-fucked pussy can manage. I’m in the middle of my final thrust when the door opens, Tristian’s head popping inside. His eyes go to the girl’s tits first, then up to my face.
“Killer, all the applicants are downstairs. We’ve put this off long enough. We have to find our Lady before the semester starts tomorrow, so stop fucking around.”
Placing a hand on the sorority girl’s back, I pull out roughly, leaving her bent and breathless across the dresser. My dick feels nearly raw from taking so long. Maybe if her cunt wasn’t so worn out, I could’ve come faster.
But probably not.
Blondes stopped doing anything for me years ago.
Four years ago, to be exact.
She looks back at me and scowls. “Jesus Christ, Killian. You’re such a fucking asshole.”
“Yep,” I say, wiping off my dick. I bend and toss her the clothes in a pile on the floor. “You heard Tristian. I have a meeting. Go.”
She gapes and looks at my buddy. Tristian. One of my best friends since as far back as I can imagine. He and Rath and I have been through thick and thin, bad and worse. He’s seen way more sordid shit than my spunk running down some slut’s thighs. He just gives her a sharp grin and shrugs. If she’s looking for sympathy, he’s the wrong one to ask.
A moment later she’s out in the hall, trying to get her panties over her skinny hips and futilely covering tits. Like every LDZ hasn’t seen her naked and spread-eagled already.
Rath squeezes past her in the hall, saying, “You guys need to hurry up, Martin is about to lose it.”
I pull up my jeans and remind him, “Martin works for us. We’re the Lords, not him. He can chill the fuck out for a minute.”
“It’s not just Martin,” Tristian says, clearly annoyed with me. “The Dukes have their Duchess. The Counts have their Countess. Even the Princes have their Princess. We’re dragging ass with finding a Lady. Makes us look weak, Killer.” He says this even as he pulls the pistol from the waist of his jeans, shutting it in the drawer of my dresser. “I did not just spend three hours on the South Side negotiating with two people named Nick and Pretty Nick to have this be our downfall.”
-->
