Page 68 of Blood Ties
“You thought you won, didn’t you?” he asks as he approaches the mattress. “Bet you thought you were real fuckin’ clever, turning my brother against me.”
My heart drums in my ears, my breath coming in little gasps. I thought I had grown immune to the horrors Knox can inflict on me, but it’s been weeks since I had to suffer his attention last.
Weeks since I’ve taken my birth control, too.
So even though I know it’s a mistake to show weakness, I sit up and press back against the wall, squeezing my thighs together. “Please don’t.”
He stops short. Lets out a surprised laugh. “Well, look at you. So polite all of a sudden.” He stands beside the mattress and eyes me up and down, leering. “I like hearing you beg.”
I swallow a lump in my throat, along with my pride. Is there anything I can offer him that he’ll like more than hurting me? I don’t know, but I have to try. I shift onto my hands and knees and crawl toward him. A small lift of his eyebrows is the only reaction I get, but he watches me, unmoving.
“I can make it good for you,” I whisper. I crawl closer, kneel in front of him and look up at him through my eyelashes, my stomach a sour pit of self-loathing. “Sir.”
“Yeah?” His smirk mocks me, but there’s a hoarse quality to his voice that lets me know I’m having the effect I was hoping for. “Show me.”
I reach up to undo his button and slide his zipper down. He’s still, hands at his sides, as I pull his cock free of his boxers.
“Is this how you do it for my brother?” he asks. “A good little slut on your knees for him?”
Then he grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my head back. I cry out, and he grins down at me. “‘Cause I’m not gonna treat you like my brother does,” he says. “I’m gonna treat you like the dirty whore you are.”
“Good,” I whisper. There is a sick part of me that aches for the torment, the punishment, to quash everything else I’m feeling. “Give me what I need, Knox.”
His eyes widen. His length hardens in front of my face. He guides it to my mouth, and I open wide for him, still maintaining eye contact as he slides the head of his cock over my tongue.
“My brother can’t satisfy you, can he?” Knox asks. “He doesn’t know the things you crave.”
I don’t answer him, but I stick my tongue out further, tilting my head back.
“You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth? Is that it?” He slides slowly in and out, just the tip of him. I nod as much as I can manage with his hand still gripping my hair.
When he pushes in again, he shoves all the way into the back of my throat. My eyes water as I gag, but he holds me there, grip on my hair tightening. When he finally pulls out, I’m gasping for air, tears blurring my vision.
“So fuckin’ pretty when you cry.” He grabs my head with both hands as he shoves his hips forward, and he starts to fuck my face in earnest. I gasp for air every time he pulls out, only to choke again. His cock somehow slams harder, deeper with every thrust. His balls slap against my chin; his cock swells in my mouth. I try to force my jaw wider, painfully wide, tears streaming down my face. But I dig my nails into his thighs and force myself to stay in place, to be obedient for him, because this is better than a chance at pregnancy, no matter how dirty and used it makes me feel.
“God, you take me so good,” he grits out, grip on my head tightening. He’s close, I can tell, his thighs starting to shake under my fingers — but he’s slowing down, instead of speeding up as he always does right before he cums. “But...” I blink away tears, and I find him smirking down at me. “Did you really think this was gonna work? You know what I want, and I ain’t getting it like this.”
He pulls out of my mouth with a wet pop. I gasp for air, dread turning my blood to ice as I realize what he’s saying.
No.
I lurch forward on my knees, suctioning my mouth over his cock again. He lets out a surprised sound as I suck him down deep and fast, bobbing up and down on his cock.
“Oh,fuck,” he says. He yanks at my hair, but I fight against it, strands ripping free as I suck him like my life depends on it. “You little—”
He cuts off in a grunt. He finally manages to yank my head back, forcing me off of him, but it’s too late — he’s already spilling himself. I grin even as it spurts over my face and chest. I’m a mess of spit and tears and cum, but I laugh at the stunned look on his face, the sound high and a little hysterical.
“Fuck you, Knox,” I say, and spit at his feet.
He stares at me as he zips his pants back up. “Christ,” he says. “Crazy fuckin’ bitch.” Then, impossibly, he laughs, too. “I missed you, Riley.”
He’s still laughing as he walks back up the stairs, and it erases any sense of victory I had.
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