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“Kiss your big brother, Octavia, as he fights desperately to breathe.”
Bas forces our faces together, and Dorian’s tongue immediately searches mine out, not caring that he cannot breathe. He makes a choked groan, pulling his hips back, fucking me in the ass, both of them working together so there is not a moment I’m empty.
Dorian is the one being choked, but it’s me who feels like she’s going to pass out from lack of oxygen. Pleasure builds in my stomach, heat rolling down my spine, toes curling. I grab on to them both like I’m going to lose them, trying to fuse us together so we can never be torn apart. Dorian sucks in a deep breath, coughing and choking a little on my lips, but he doesn’t stop our kiss.
“Come for us one more time, little sister. Come on your brother’s cock,” Bas moans. He rolls his hips so my clit grinds on him, and Dorian digs his fingers into my sides, the bite of pain exactly what I need.
My orgasm rolls through me so hard, I see stars. I scream their names, my throat hoarse, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. They grunt in pleasure, my legs shaking as the orgasm hits. They both moan my name, their releases spilling inside me as they kiss my neck, breasts, lips. Bastian’s declaration of love again is the last thing I hear before everything goes black.
15
Octavia
Bastian’s warm breath hits me in the face, and my eyes crack open, watching him sleep. A smile tugs at my lips, a joyful peace settling in my bones. I reach my fingers to his forehead, brushing his hair out of his eyes. His nose twitches like a bunny, making me giggle, but it’s followed by a god-awful noise that has my face screwing up. Bas sleeps like the dead and snores like a damn warthog. I’ve forgotten that since I’ve been away.
“Bas,” I whisper, shaking him, pushing his side to roll him over. He snorts once more, hiccupping a weird noise before he moves, hugging the covers to his chest.
I roll my eyes, stretching out in bed, groaning at all my aches and pains, the worst being my ass. It stings like a motherfucker, especially on my left check where Dorian spanked me last. He must have hit me harder than I thought and the pleasure I was feeling at the time dulled it, because it’s stinging like a bitch now.
We’re in their bed; I can tell from the scent of the sheets—it’s not in the sex room they had me in last night. Shit, I actually fucked my brothers last night… at the same time…for hours after seeing that they tortured our father for me.
I squeal like a schoolgirl, kicking my legs in the sheets, rolling to the other side to search for Dorian, but I find it empty. Jolting up, I scan the room, but he’s nowhere in sight. Jumping out of bed, not worrying if I wake Bas, I search but come up empty. A sense of worry pools in my stomach, my hands becoming sweaty, heart beating out of rhythm. I gnaw my lip, hugging my waist, trying to calm the feeling.
There’s never been a time where I’ve fallen asleep in their bed and they both haven’t been there when I’ve woken. It’s strange I’ve never noticed that before, but his absence has sent a tremble of foreboding down my spine.
After using the bathroom and cleaning up somewhat, I leave a snoring Bastian in bed and go in search of Rian, wearing only an oversized white t-shirt. It smells like Bas, and I hum a little at the reminder.
The staff nod their heads at me as I pass some of them by, some of them giving me a double look, while others give a knowing gaze. I flush at the ones who purse their lips or raise an eyebrow, but none of them say anything to me—they wouldn’t dare.
I don’t find Dorian in the lounge, the dining room, or the kitchen. I shocked the cooks as I came barrelling in, but they quickly turned it into a warm welcome and insisted I not leave without a bowl full of strawberries. They wanted to make me some pancakes as well to go with them, but something inside me is pulling me towards finding Rian. The longer it takes to find him, the worse it gets.
“You sure he left a message to say he was arriving tomorrow?”
I hear his voice echoing in the halls and rush towards it.
“Yes. He asked for his usual room to be made up, but…”
I turn the corner and skid behind it again, poking my head out. Dorian is speaking to Ghost, Father’s head of security… Well, I guess he works for Dorian and Bastian now… Maybe… I don’tknow what is going on, honestly. All I know is that man still scares the living crap out of me.
Ghost is a nickname given to him by the bloodline. I doubt anyone knows his real one. He got it because he acts like an actual ghost; you don't know he’s there unless he wants you to. The hunter of secrets, the invisible killer, the monster in the shadows—if you are his target, there is no hope for you.
There have been plenty of times he was the one who caught me when I was sneaking around as a child, appearing out of nowhere to drag me to my punishment. He forced me to witness the mutilated bodies he had worked on, locked me in a room while he carved up a fresh one, still alive… still screaming. Sometimes, it would be hours, while others, a few minutes, but each time came with a warning.
“This is what happens to people who do not do what they’re told, little mouse. This is what will become of you if you continue to not fucking listen. Do you want to die? Do you want to be the next one they send me after?”
Each time, it was the same threat, but he never once told my father he caught me snooping. My brothers would be the only one he told, every time without fail. Dorian would tell me off until I cried, and then Bastian would take me to the cooks for ice-cream.
“Spit it out, Ghost. I would like to get back to bed. I have more pressing things to do,” Dorian snaps, checking the time on his pocket watch.
Ghost’s face screws up in disgust, but his expression drops before Dorian can catch it. He rubs a tattooed hand across the back of his neck, a flash of fear in his gaze. “He’s asked for another room to be set up for a guest.”
Dorian snaps the watch closed, his head shooting up as he frowns hard. “Aguest?Are you sure?”
“Very,” he says, nodding once. “I believe it could be what we…youfeared.”
What he feared? What did Dorian fear?
“Very well,” Dorian muses, tilting his head side to side, his calculating eyes flickering back and forth, working on an idea. I see it the moment it happens: the tiny worry on his face disappears, and a cunning, cruel smirk tugs at his lips instead. “Set up the room, but make sure the guest is in the west wing.”
