Chapter 5

Alexzander

Ilay awake, frustrated and angry after the conversation with my brother. I kept my door open so I could hear Gunnir's footsteps if he went downstairs. The night had been silent, but I was still frustrated. I couldn't stop thinking about how it felt to get inside her, followed by the intrusive thoughts of Gunnir's dirty fingers.

I was a Bruggar in the sense that I would take that girl as often as I could, whether she wanted it or not, but I didn't like pushing through familial spunk to get to what I wanted. I enjoyed the empty warmth of a pussy. I didn't care if it was too dry because of the disgust for me. The warm, slick wetness of another man's load didn't make it easier to slide into. I wanted to spit on their pussy or in my hand before pushing inside them so that the only thing coating them was more of me. Our father had hated me for refusing to follow them, and my brother didn't understand it. I just wasn't like them in that way.

The Man had also hated how much time I spent with my mother, who was his captive long before we were born. He'd grown tired of her, but he couldn't bring himself to get rid of her. He'd gotten rid of so many women before her and after her, but something human inside him told him he couldn't kill the mother of his children. But that was the only human thing about him. The Man was a monster, feared by all except Gunnir, who looked up to him as if he were a god. He was no deity. He might have made the sign of the cross over his chest, but it was only to unclip the straps of his overalls.

I was being judgmental. After all, I was just as guilty when it came to using the girls. But I refused to be a clone of The Man. I forged my own way, even if it was still a sin-laced path. I didn't need to break a girl's body to get the pleasure I wanted. Not like Gunnir, who needed to fuck them as hard as he could to pay homage to our father.

Ophelia could hate me all she wanted, but at least she wasn't his. I would take her body as often as I wanted, but at least it wouldn't be Gunnir's dick pressing between her legs.

I heard what sounded like footsteps in the kitchen. My ears perked and my back straightened.

Gunnir better not be trying to sneak downstairs.

Ophelia was mine. He knew she was mine, and no one would put a hand on her but me. The thought of him touching her again lit the anger inside me.

I put on a pair of sweatpants and made my way to the basement. I flipped on the light and both girls stirred. The whore's attention shot to me, but she threw her blanket over her head to shield her eyes from the light when she realized I wasn't Gunnir. Ophelia didn't lift her head from her curled position on the floor. Brown stains painted her white diner uniform, even after only a few hours in the basement.

I walked over and squatted beside her, behind the curve of her back. Her dark hair fell across her cheek, and I wanted to move it. I wanted to see her face again. Her thick lashes and full lips called to me.

The whore coughed and when I looked back at her, Ophelia sprang up.

Something cold and hard pressed against my neck. My fingers flew to the source, and I realized it was the chain. She really hadn't thought this through. While one end attached to the anchor, the other was through the cuff around her ankle. I reached down and gripped the chain, yanking until she lost her balance. Unfortunately, I hadn't thought that through, and now her full weight hung from the chain around my neck.

"Fuck you," I said through clenched teeth.

I threw my weight backward, knocking her against the wall. The air left her lungs, and she lost her grip on the chain. I turned and pinned it against her neck. Her hands clawed at the metal, fighting to free enough space to draw a breath.

I leaned closer to her face. "I was coming down here to make sure my fucking brother wasn't going to touch you, and you pull this shit?"

Her face reddened, her cheeks puffing to try to pull air she wouldn't find.

"If you try something this fucking dumb again, I will kill you. Do you understand? You're mine. Mine to own. Mine to use. Mine to discard if you can't act right. I was trying to look out for you, O." I replaced the chain with a firm grasp on her throat as I reached down with my other hand and pulled out my cock. "I wasn't going to fuck you again tonight, but you need to learn from this mistake." I raised her skirt and gripped her ass. My eyes bore into hers.

Please, she mouthed, tears dripping onto my wrist.

I spit on my hand, and the moment I touched between her legs, her eyes rose to the ceiling and her hands stopped pushing against me. I lifted her thigh with a warm, wet hand and pushed inside her. A small noise left her mouth, but her eyes remained locked above us.

"Look at me," I commanded, but not even an angry thrust of my hips drew her attention to me. She'd traveled somewhere else in her mind.

I dug my fingers into her thigh, and she cried out as I drove my hips further into her. She could travel somewhere else in her mind, but her body was still here.

My toy.

Mine.

I bottomed out inside her, with an inch of my dick to go. I pushed my hips deeper, forcing that final bit of me into her until I felt her soft hairs against mine. She puffed her cheeks and pursed her lips as she fought the pain. Her nails dug into my wrist, the smallest sign of fight she gave me. I hated that she didn't fight me and that her tears silently fell. Even as her fingers dug into me, she refused to acknowledge what was happening to her. It had taken the whore a long time to stop fighting, but Ophelia seemed broken before my dick ever touched her.

I leaned over and bit her shoulder hard enough to make her body jolt, and yet her eyes remained on the ceiling. I pulled my hand away and brushed the dark hair off her sweaty forehead. "You're mine, O. You might as well get used to it."

"No," she whispered. She dropped her head back, the only sign of her returning to this room with me.

"Yes. And if you ever pull shit like that again"—I gestured to the chain—"instead of fucking you, I'll kill you." When she didn't respond, I smacked her. Her cheek reddened beneath the blow. "Do you understand?"

She nodded.

I pulled out of her and released her thigh. She continued to avoid my gaze, choosing to watch as my come slid down her legs instead. I reached between her thighs and gathered as much of my come as I could. I turned toward the whore, ripped the sheet off her, and lifted her by her hair before shoving my coated fingers into her mouth. I held her nose until her body lurched with desperation. When she panted for air, I spit in her mouth. "Don't be a dick. She wouldn't have gotten fucked tonight if you didn't try to help her," I snarled as I spit again, soaking her chin as she tried to recoil. I released her hair, and she gagged and heaved on all fours.

Ophelia sobbed silently against the wall, and I felt a moment of guilt before anger surpassed it. I really wasn't going to fuck her, but then she'd tried to kill me.