Page 50 of Fragile Facade
He’s too needy for my tastes. Too compliant and amenable. “Please,” he begs. Too polite and submissive.Fucking take what you want, man. Stop begging.
“Please what?” Riot asks him. “So many manners and not enough demands.”
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: guys like us are intrigued by the submissive type because we enjoy lording our power over them, but they never keep our interest for long. So, when Brady opens his mouth to demand something specific, I beat him to it.
“Get on your knees for him, tourist,” I snap, shoving him down whether or not he likes it. His knees hit the wooden floors, and Riot’s eyes hit mine, half hidden behind his unruly dark hair and whatever persona he’s hiding behind. “Hurry up and suck him.”
I demand it, but I don’t want it to happen. Riot catches the confliction on my face, but I don’t hide it from him. Because I have one more trick up my sleeve, and when I play it, it’ll be the thing to break Riot’s well-crafted control. His charm will vanish, and in its place, the true Killian Hallows will come forth.
He’s the one I’m thirsting for.
Riot is still looking at me when I shift my focus downward, watching Brady undo his pants too slowly for my liking. I tug on his hair and smack his cheek, demanding he get on with it and show me the cock that belongs tome. When he pulls Riot’s pants down his thighs, the bulge in his tight boxers has me licking my lips again, but when his hard cock bounces free in front of Brady’s face, I clench my jaw in both restraint and admiration. I’m not ready to make my move yet, but since no part of Brady will act as anything more than a body to use and our ignition switch, I grab hold of the sides of his head so that I’m the one bringing pleasure to Riot.
At the first brush of Brady’s fingers on his cock, Riot’s hand snaps forward and cinches my throat, bruising my already bruised neckline. His grey eyes become as tumultuous as his brother’s, and the way he’s watching me is akin to that one or two second precipice between life and death—he’s half mad with want and half sane with the game, unsure which direction he’ll shift first.
But I’m the one in charge here, and with his hand on me, eyes on mine, I force Brady’s face forward and watch Riot’s eyes narrow as I fuck his cock with a city boy’s mouth. I hate it. I loathe that this kid’s mouth is touching him. I’m fucking raging inside, but I’m Ghost of Vile House, and I’ve become familiar with enduring the bullshit before getting the reward.
Riot’s snapped tether will be my reward.
Brady chokes, gagging around Riot, and I push his face forward with no mercy. Riot’s hand tightens on my throat, and I grin before looking down to watch the way his dick disappears inside Brady’s mouth. When I pull Brady back, he gasps, sucking in air as his hands grab my wrists.
“Not so hard,” he says breathlessly. “Give me a minute to?—”
I dig my thumbs into his jaw joints and force him forward again. When his nose hits Riot’s lower stomach, Riot buckles forward, using his hand around my neck for balance. His forehead almost hits mine, and his groan is so anguished that it fills me with diabolical pleasure. Oh, fuck yeah. He’s almost there. Almost ready to buckle. Almost ready to be the puppet attached to my skilled strings.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Think you’re winning, sweetheart?”
I grin, knowing I am. With my lips brushing his ear, I whisper, “Game point.”
Then I pull Brady back, force him to his feet, and let Riot look at him for a single second before I spin him to face me. His lips are slick with spit, but that’s about all I notice about him. I don’t give a single fuck about the guy, but I lure him with a sexy smile and nod downward, demanding for him to kneel. Because it’s my turn now. He left the club with two devils, and if he thinks any part of this night is going to be about his pleasure, he has no idea what kind of town Moros is.
Luckily, he’s still turned on enough—hopeful enough to think his turn is coming—that he kneels in front of me. His hands make fast work of undoing my pants, and when I look at Riot, the hand he had wrapped around my throat is balled into a tight fist, straining in the air because he hasn’t figured out what to do with it yet.
“Oh, god,” Brady moans, pulling my dick free. “I want you both inside me.”
“Get me wet, tourist. You’ll get your turn.”
Riot’s eyes snap to mine, and there he is. He’s shifting his focus, ready to snap for good. Because this is it. There are no more moves left on the board. He either lets this happen, or he shows me just how possessive he’s demanding himself not to be.
I go tense when Brady’s hand wraps around me, letting Riot know what’s happening. Because I’m acting for him and only him, and I’ll always be the star of his show. Brady pumps his fist up and down the length of my cock a few times, yet I hardly feel it because every part of me is focused on Riot. When he leans forward to suck me between his lips, Riot’s hands latch onto the side of his head, stopping him.
Brady moans because he thinks Riot is about to do exactly what I did, but I smile so fucking wide because I know better.This is the exact moment I win our game.
“Please,” Brady begs while Riot wages an internal war with himself. Is his pride more important than losing this game? Time will tell. A split second of hesitation and he’ll drop his masks and show me his genuine self. “Please, let me taste him.”
Brady fights his hold, leaning forward, and that’s when I know I’ve won for certain. Because Riot’s eyes are thrashing with an entirely new kind of power. I smile at him, goading him into doing it.I’m so pent up I don’t even know if I’m breathing, but it doesn’t matter because looking into his eyes, watching them swirl with turpitude and a level of need I’ve only ever known myself to feel, I pause to drink in the power coming from this very moment in time. Not life. Not death. Something better because it’s so strong but so unknown.
His smile isn’t charming when he gives it to me. It’s broken and beautiful, and I want it forever. Because it’s mine. Only mine. Meant for me and him and this moment that defies time and warps the orbit of our lives.
“Please!” Brady whines.
Looking at me, Riot says, “Drop the manners when you get to Hell, lamb.”
“Wha—”
The crack is loud in the foyer, bouncing off the walls. When Brady’s hands go limp and fall away from my cock, my chest heaves with adrenaline and a straight shot of arousal. Because here he is. Killian Hallows. Unleashed, unhinged, cracked in fucking half and bringing my omen of death.This.This is the thrill I chase whenever I tempt death. Riot brings it better and stronger.
It’s about goddamn time.
