AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He gives a curt nod, and we both untie Octavia from the bed. She sits up, rubbing her wrists as Bastian rubs her ankles. As she grasps her left hand, her eyes go wide as she stares at the tattoo.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, tracing the vines and black leaves. I tried to make the leaves as close to a deadly nightshade as I could, which was tricky with them being so small.
I pull her into my arms, kissing her gently. This would be the perfect time to tell her, to say the three words she deserves. “I-”
She looks up at me with those big doe eyes expectantly, hope shining through, and I blow it.
“You’re ours, angel. I’ve wanted to give you this for years. We’re never letting you go. As soon as we deal with our grandfather, I want you to brand us as yours.”
Her eyes shutter with disappointment, and I hear Bastian huff a breath as he mutters something unintelligible. It’s so easy for him. I wish it could be that way for me; they both deserve it.
“Wait,” Octavia says, alarmed. “Grandfather is on his way here?”
“Yes.” I smirk, pushing the uncomfortable feeling in my gut away. “But first, we have a gift for you. A gift for all of us, really, and it needs to be done before Grandfather gets here.”
Bastian takes her from my arms and picks her up, as giddy as can be. We’ve been waiting our whole lives for this moment.
“Time to visit daddy dearest for the last time ever, pretty girl. Today is his funeral.”
19
Octavia
They made me put on one of my best dresses for the occasion and, seeing as it was for our father’s funeral, I decided the only appropriate colour would be pink. The dusty pink pleated tulle skirt swishes as I twirl in the mirror, hitting mid-thigh, my hair falling down my back in soft waves. The corset cinches my frame, making my breasts appear fuller. They look fantastic, but my favourite part of the dress is the dainty ribbon shoulder straps that fall down the top of my arms, a bow tying them off. I wanted to wear heels, but Dorian tutted and said they would be too much of a hassle, so I’ve gone for simple white ballet flats with ribbons that twist and tie up my calves.
Dorian comes up behind me, running his finger across my bare shoulder, staring at me in the mirror. “You look like a ballerina.”
“Too much?” I ask, gnawing at my bottom lip.
I’ve finally got clothes that feel like me—girly, light, and so freaking pretty. No more black or blood red, or outfits approved by my father. But maybe I went too far and cute for Dorian, not sexy enough.
He grasps my chin, twisting me in his grip. “Do you like this outfit?”
“I love this outfit,” I admit on a whisper. I was saving this for something special.
“Then that’s all that matters. You would look beautiful to me in a rag, Octavia. I want you to be you, not a version you think I want.”
He drags his gaze over my body, biting his bottom lip and snaking a hand behind my back, grabbing my ass and pulling me against him. “That being said, I think you look like the most delicious treat in this outfit. The only way it would look better is if it was rucked up around your waist with you bent over and my cock in your ass.”
He lets go of my chin, grabbing my ass with both hands and spreading my cheeks, making my face flush. A finger drags over my underwear near my hole, tracing it lightly, making me shiver.
“Would you like that again, angel?” he husks. “Do you want my cock buried deep in your ass while you’re begging me to stop because the pleasure is too much?”
His head lowers, resting his lips on mine, and I’m a goner.
“Please.”
He chuckles, slowly moving his hands from my ass to my thighs, his fingers pushing past my underwear, dragging up my slit. I whimper against his lips, moving closer, wanting more.
“As soon as you kill our father, I’m going to bend you over his dead body and fuck you until you come, screaming for your big brother.”
He grips the back of my hair, plunging two fingers inside me and rubbing my clit with his thumb. I’m so turned on, I’m about to burst. He only goes on for a few seconds, hitting every single pleasure spot I have until I scream, pulling him in for a kiss. It’s quick and short before he releases me, not letting me come.
My arousal coats his fingers, and he stares at them, opening his mouth to lick up the mess, but Bastian is quicker. He rushes over, sucking Dorian’s fingers into his mouth, humming at the taste of me.
“Better than honey, I fucking swear.” Bastian groans, ignoring Dorian’s scowl as he grabs a handkerchief from his black suit pocket, wiping Bastian’s spit from his fingers.
“Did you have to lick my fingers so much?”
