Page 28 of Hearts of Stone
Theo opens his mouth to reply when Arch strides out, nude. I try not to imagine what he was just up to. Ben slips out and goes to the stove without a word.
“Little one, we’ll get you situated, but I must fly for some meetings. Ben and Theo will be home with you, however.’
“SITUATED” TURNS OUTto mean bent over Arch’s lap—much more intimate than being over a table–while Theo inserts a “day wear” butt plug. Arch places a hand under my chin, keeping me propped up and unable to hide my face. He slides his fingers along my pussy several times during the ordeal, making satisfied noises.
I imagine, in detail, how I will murder them, to keep myself together. When Arch straightens me up and gives me a gentle slap on the ass, I walk to the closet I had slept in the first night and close myself inside it.
A good half hour of wondering if their wings will make them easier or harder to skin, and there is a delicate knock. I swipe at my face quickly as the door is slowly cracked.
It’s Ben.
His face is schooled but kind. “C’mon now, flower. Come with me to my office.” He holds out his hand.
I stare at it. I want to refuse. That might earn me a spanking though.
And besides, I need to see more of the house than an up close view of the couch cushions.
I step forward without taking his hand. I see a smile ghost over his face but he turns and leads me down the hallway behind the kitchen. Theo is nowhere in view and I want to know what he’s doing but I refuse to ask.
Ben stops at a closed door and uses his thumb to unlock it. I raise my eyebrows silently. “You have unique fingerprints?”
“Fingerprints are developed in the womb due to many factors and that is why they are different, even with twins. So yes, we do, as our reproductive cycles and development are exceedingly similar,” he explains as he opens the door and gestures me in.
I blink, surprised by his forthcomingness and I blink again, shocked by his “office.”
It’s a lab.Microscopes, which I recognize from books, sleek off-white machines that I don’t recognize and several computers. A fume hood, I believe, and a long stainless steel table. On it are circular dishes with some kind of pink goo in the bottom. I turn and look at Ben, my eyes wide. A smile softens his stern face and he raises an arm to rub at the back of his neck, his wings shaking out and folding back in.
“I heard you telling Arch you brew beer. So you’re a microbiologist.”
I frown, “No, I’m not a scientist...”
“Ah,” his face lights up, “But you are! If you are training your own yeast strands for your beer, and standardizing your alcohol content, you most certainly are!” He smiles, looking more animated than I’ve seen. “I thought you might enjoy seeing some of my work.”
I stand in the middle of the lab, nude, and smile at him. “Sure.”
BEN SPENDS ABOUT ANhour with me in his lab, explaining the purposes of the machines, showing me how he plates a growing medium, and suggesting that I collect some wild yeast to grow on the petri dishes he lets me help make. It’s so odd and kind that I manage not to consider it much at all until we leave the lab.
But it’s then I realize that he really told me nothing of his personal research and that rings alarm bells in my head.
Of course not, because I’m his sex toy. His baby-maker.
He locks the door behind us and I turn and point down the hall where there is only one door. “Is that Arch’s office?” I ask.
“No, the stairs,” he answers easily, putting a hand on my lower back to steer me to the kitchen. He speaks quietly, his body close to mine in the long hallway. “I wanted to tell you... I lost my parents young too. So I think perhaps—”
I cut him off, his musky, smokey scent in my nostrils distracting, “Don’t you even dare say that you understand me.”
His mouth snaps shut and I glare.
But part of me wonders at his loss. Both parents? What could kill two grown, settled gargoyles?We reach the open main room.
Theo is stretched out on the couch, a glass of wine on the table near him and a book in hand. He sits up when he hears us.
“Ah, there you are. Come here sweetling.”
He’s not asking, he’s telling.I frown but make myself walk to him. He stands and holds out a cloth.
No, not a cloth, a robe.It looks like it will fall to mid-thigh and is a rich purple, lined with some soft material. He puts it onme, dressing me like a doll. I drop my gaze,I will not fuck this up with my anger and have it taken away before it’s even on me.
