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“Shit, Leone. She didn’t put pants back on?” Groaning, I feel the heat pooling in my abdomen, desire coiling tight.
“I never gave her any,” Leone laughs, clearly enjoying my torment.
“Do you have any idea what torture this is? Knowing she’s bare next to me?” I glare at him, but the look he gives me in return is nothing but smug satisfaction.
“Help yourself, Milo. She’s ours,” he smirks, the implication clear as day.
Conflict rages within me, but then Leone pulls the blanket back, and her shiver is instant. She moves closer to me, seeking warmth, and my hand travels up her naked thigh. I suck in a sharp breath, my skin burning where it meets hers.
“I’m not fucking her while she is asleep.” I hiss under my breath, fighting to keep control as every instinct screams to claim her, to take what he’s offering so freely.
“Relax, Milo. I never said you have to,” he says, stretching out beside her like a cat in the sun. And as much as I want to argue, to tell him this isn’t right, I can’t deny the pull, the need coursing through me.
“Relax,” I echo, my resolve crumbling as I trace the soft skin of her inner thigh, wondering just how far I can push the boundaries before she wakes.
“She’s out like the dead,” I mutter, my voice barely above a whisper.
He smirks, eyes glinting with a dangerous spark. “Deep sleeper.” His hand moves slowly, deliberately, to cup her between her legs—which is bare, exposed. She squirms in her sleep but doesn’t wake. “I wonder if we can change her nightmare into something... more pleasurable,” he says, his fingers dancing over her, stroking her with a gentleness I didn’t know he possessed.
I swallow, watching, unable to look away as her body reacts even in the depths of sleep. It’s wrong, this game, but it’s Leone, and it’s me, and we’ve long since stopped playing by any rules but our own.
“Fuck,” Leone breathes out, half to himself. “I can’t wait for when we can both take her.”
“Good luck with that,” I reply, though the thought sends a jolt of heat straight to my groin. “She’s not ready for us. Not together.”
“Then we’ll prepare her.” He’s already thinking ahead, the wheels turning in his dark mind. “I’ll get some toys ordered and sent here tomorrow.”
“Always the thoughtful one,” I say, sarcasm lacing my tone. I’m too caught up in the way her back arches; my fingers tug her shirt up under her chin, only to notice she has bled through it, the clear material covering her gunshot wound having peeled away from her skin; I toss the blanket back to grab something when Leone speaks.
“Leave it; she isn’t bleeding; you can clean her up afterward,” Leone says, and I sigh. My hand palms her breast, and she reacts instantly, a shudder running through her; I lean down and suck on her nipple, drawing a silent gasp from her sleeping lips when he pulls his hand away, just when I think he is going to drive his fingers inside her.
“Non voglio ferirla,” Leone murmurs, almost to himself. I don’t want to hurt her. The contradiction that is Leone Pressutti is laid bare because that man loves inflicting pain. It seems to be the only time I find him calm and at ease.
“Sure,” I chuckle, but then her eyes flutter open, green orbs wide with confusion and a tremor running through her body.
“You said you wouldn’t,” she whispers, accusation sharp in her single word.
“Shh, tesoro,” Leone soothes, his hand moving from her hip to gently turn her chin towards him. “We’re not going to hurt you. You knew this would happen eventually.”
“Didn’t think it’d be while I was asleep,” she bites back, her voice trembling as much as her body.
“We won’t have sex with you,” I interject, gripping her chin and turning her face to me, I press a soft kiss to her lips. It’s a reassurance, a promise, and also a lie. We are the monsters under her bed who have come to life, but I don’t want to be a monster with her.
“Stop,” she manages, a futile attempt at resistance that only feeds the flames.
“Relax,” Leone whispers against her skin, lips brushing hers. “Let us take care of you.”
“Mi dispiace,” I groan, my resolve fracturing as I lean down, capturing her lips again, more firmly this time. She’s caught between us, her soft curves contrasting our hard edges.
“Please,” she begs, but whether it’s for us to continue or stop, even she doesn’t seem to know as she leans into our touch.
TWENTY-FOUR
FALLON
My breath hitches as Milo’s tongue traces the seam of my lips. “We won’t fuck you until you let us,” he whispers. “But don’t fight us. We won’t hurt you. You’ll like it.”
“Wait—both of you?” I can barely get the words out, my voice quaking with the thrill of fear and something forbidden.
