Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45194 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45194 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
I feel alive in a way I could never have predicted.
And I can't figure out what it means to want to deny or fight them when I desire the opposite.
What does it mean to feel thrilled in how they restrain me, shuddering against the binds at my wrists, begging them to stop but praying in my mind that they'll continue?
Every touch feels forbidden. Every moment we're doing this is dangerous and wrong, but also right in a way that pulses through me like the rumble before a storm. It's primal and animalistic to desire to be overpowered by men. It's illicit to tell them no and imagine they are violating me and then be thrilled when they disregard my every protest.
The press of rough fingers against my flesh, or the pain of their teeth biting down, brings me closer to release. Kylian's harsh voice in my ear as his brothers possess my body is enough to tip me over the edge.
I feel like I've lost a grip on who I am and what this is supposed to be about. Enjoyment wasn't something I factored into this arrangement. Discovering the depths of my own sexual predilections wasn’t supposed to be in the cards.
Everything is tangled and twisted, my heart knotted tight by ropes from the past and present, even as my feet are bound by ties to the bed.
They look so different, but I can still see hints of the past. Kylian's eyes that were always watchful are still bottomless pools of crystalline water. Nate's hair is a little darker than the blond from childhood, but it still has the same soft wave. Lyle has the same long lashes that frame his coal-dark gaze and shadow his cheekbones. I search for the familiar, even though it hurts to find it.
"Honor," Lyle whispers as he buries his face between my legs, his tongue teasing me to the point of insanity, and as he makes me come, I remember running hand in hand down a hill with him when we were children and laughing so hard that I almost passed out.
Nate's mouth on mine is slow and sensual at first, deepening until I'm moaning and remembering how he used to leave me candy under my pillow.
They unstrap my hands so that I can touch them, and every stroke of my fingers across their skin feels stolen and fleeting.
Kylian fucks into me like he's trying to break me open with the power of his release, but as I run my fingers up the impossible ladder of his abs, I remember how he told me to hide when his dad was banging violently on his bedroom door.
I remember the boys they were, and I'm struggling to believe that the men they're showing me are who they really are. Is it possible for life experiences to twist a man's soul until he bears no resemblance to the person he started out to be? Can hardship obliterate our essence?
I don't want to believe that it's possible.
As Kylian nuzzles my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair, he whispers, "Fight me," and I do. My hand cracks against his face, the sound as violent as a gunshot in the quiet of the room. Nate rests his weight on my bound leg, pinning it to the bed with force as Lyle holds my wrists and stretches them above my head. They grip so tightly like they want me to be sure of their power and all I can move is my head. "No," I moan, shaking my head from side to side, my eyes wide and fearful, but inside my mind is saying yes… do it… claim me… own me… break me… ruin me.
Take whatever you need, and I'll pretend to hate it if that's what you desire.
When Kylian runs the rough of his tongue over my swollen clit, I cry out and flail. It's too much. Too good and too terrible. But the more I cry, the more he does it, relentless in the pursuit of my undoing. And in a moment of pure clarity, I realize something so agonizing a tear slips from my eye and runs unseen into my hair.
They need this; the feeling of power and control. It's a way to take back what they lost, a twisted balm for all the damage inflicted by a man who didn't love his sons the way they deserved.
"You taste like surrender," Kylian whispers darkly against my thigh. "Sweet like total submission." His mouth moves closer to my pussy again, and I squirm against the hands that restrain me. "You'd let me do anything to you, wouldn't you?"
He says it with a note of derision in his voice, as though my willingness to play my part in this game is about weakness. He believes I'm not strong enough to stand up for myself. He sees the worst of himself and his brothers in me.