18

Breathing heavily, my blue eyes find his green ones as he crawls up my sweaty body, between my spread legs.

Fuck, what the hell did he just do to me? This isn’t the Rook I know, or is it? It’s not like we explored much together. But it’s like he’s punishing me, yet he doesn’t know that whatever he’s doing, it’s only giving me everything I want and more.

His arm sneaks around the middle of my back, arching me toward him, and he lowers his face toward my tits.

"I've always loved these big fucking melons," he snarls.

His teeth graze over the thin fabric that covers my nipple as he holds eye contact. He gently bites down on it and lifts it, peeling it away from my skin, completely exposing me.

As soon as my hardened tip is free, he flattens his warm, wet tongue against it, stroking it with a flick before taking it into his mouth. My eyes flutter shut as he starts to devour it, his hand now sneaking into the waistband of my panties and grazing over my sensitive clit.

He continues to sink lower until he’s slipping his fingers inside my pussy, and I gasp, feeling how strange it is with my ass full of the butt plug. He presses against it as if he wanted to feel it for himself, then he eases them out of me again.

His hand moves up, pinching the corner of the tape, and ripping it off my tingling lips with a quick pull. The sudden string shocks my senses, and I almost scream.

“Motherfucker!” I hiss, shooting him a sharp, fiery glare.

But when his smirk spreads, taunting and cruel, I lift my hand, ready to strike—like I always do—but before I can, his grip snatches my wrist, slamming it down beside me with brutal force.

“That smart mouth is gonna get it fucked.” His voice is a growl, but his eyes are still filled with dark amusement. “It was only a little upper lip wax... Not like you didn’t need—”

I don’t let him finish. My other hand swipes, aiming for the blow, but again, he's faster. He catches my second wrist, pinning both of them above my head with one giant hand, holding me there like I’m nothing—helpless, his prisoner.

I fight against him, writhing, but he ignores it, his eyes locked on something beside us and my gaze follows his, drawn to the glint of a black, shiny half-bunny mask. I pause, and my pulse quickens as he brings it toward my face, securing it behind my head.

When it’s in place, he takes me in, his eyes devouring me like a predator sizing up his prey. The mask hides half my face, leaving only my lips exposed, and as he stares, loving the sight of me, I start to feel my body melt again.

“Now what?” His voice drops, a taunt in the air. “You’re just my helpless little fucking bunny this Christmas.”

Before I can even open my mouth to throw some sass back, his lips crash against mine, hard and demanding. It’s not a kiss—it’s an assault. His tongue shoves past my lips, plunging down my throat with force, until I’m gasping for air, surrendering to him, kissing him back with equal hunger.

It doesn’t take long before it becomes savage again—like it always does. His free hand rips my bra upward, exposing both of my breasts, my nipples brushing his tattooed skin. Then, his fingers working hurriedly between us, unbuckling his belt and in an instant, his big cock is freed, thick and heavy.

With a rough push, he moves my panties aside, the cold air biting at my exposed, wet pussy. His pierced tip brushes against my entrance briefly before he thrusts into me, unapologetic, punishing, taking me with one heartless plunge.

I can’t hold back the cry that leaves my throat, but his mouth continues to attack mine, muffling the sound. The pressure inside me—his massive cock and the butt plug—feels like too much, an overload that pushes me to the corners of madness. My body shudders, unable to process the devastating sensation, but he doesn’t give a shit. He groans, low and animalistic, before pulling back and slamming into me with a violent force, burying himself deep, carelessly driving in and out, hate fucking me.

Each savage stroke pushes me further into a dizzying spiral, my big tits bouncing wildly against his chest. The chains above us rattle with every hard fuck, swinging in time with his punishing rhythm, the bells around my throat annoyingly jingling in the same sync.

“Fuck,” he growls with pleasure, his breath hot against my lips. “Between your tight cunt and that plug, you're squeezing the life out of my cock, Eb.”

My legs instinctively lock around his waist, pulling him closer, my body begging for more, despite how full I feel. I yield to him, surrendering, each nerve alive with the desperate need for the sinful pleasure only he can provide.

Without a word, he releases my wrists, his hand slipping into the back of my hair, grabbing a fistful and yanking my head back causing me to hiss. His other hand wraps around the front of my throat, dulling the sound of the bells, attempting to silence everything but the wetness of him inside me.

He holds me still, dominating me, as his light green eyes burn into mine, watching every second.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he bites out forcefully, his teeth grazing my lips. “Let me spit in that slut throat of yours.”

I obey without hesitation, caught in a haze of euphoria that clouds my mind, making me forget everything but him and my lip’s part, letting him have his way with me.

“Wider. Tongue out.”

I do as he says, my breath shallow, the pleasure building in my body with every devastating thrust. Catching me off guard, he spits directly into my throat, and the sharpness of it almost makes me gag, but his hold tightens instantly, cutting off my air supply, suffocating me into submission.

The humiliation is shameful, the degradation and pain blending with the pleasure, spiralling together. My orgasm builds rapidly, the compression in my head blurring every thought and my nails rake down his tattooed back, drawing blood, begging for even a shred of empathy.

“Only when you come for me, little sister, will I let you breathe the same air as me again,” he whispers darkly, his voice a hiss. “This is your big brother hate fucking the life out of you, just as your deserve.”

My face turns to a deep purple, eyes nearly bulging from my head as he holds me at the edge—teetering between life and death. He doesn’t stop, no matter how much I tear his skin apart, he doesn’t show sympathy, letting me spiral dangerously close to the point of no return. But he keeps his word, waiting, until finally, I shatter.

The moment my body jerks violently, caught in the intense, overpowering waves of an orgasm, he releases his hold on my throat, and the sudden rush of air into my lungs intensifies the pleasure. I gasp, choking before the sound of a strangled, untamed scream escapes my throat, the sensation consuming me.

Then I feel it—something I now find hard to hold onto—the hot, pulsing release. The pressure in my core builds to an unbearable peak causing my pussy to squirt all over him in hot, messy sprays. It soaks his lower body, but it only drives him wilder, more feral.

Without hesitation, he shifts, bracing himself up on one arm, hovering over me, as his free hand finds my clit, rubbing it hard and fast. The stimulation sends my come flying, drenching both of us even more, and I arch violently, my back bending in over-sensitivity until I feel him bury as deep as he can, his cock swelling and jerking inside me.

He collapses on top of me, his heavy weight knocking the air from my small body. His chest presses against mine, hot and suffocating, as he empties himself. The feeling of his cum filling me up makes my thighs tremble around him and we lie there, still, both of us trying to process the chaos we’ve just shared.

His breaths come heavy against my hair, but I can’t help running my hands up his toned back, fingers tracing the inked skin, unable to stop myself from touching him, claiming whatever part of him I can.

My heart pounds, a frenzied rhythm, as my thoughts swirl—about him, about us, about what comes after this. What does he want from this? Is it just another filthy night to add to the naughty list, and then we part ways, as if nothing happened until the next time? Or are we done after this? The idea that I could be pulled into something I don’t want, a deeper connection that will never be mine to keep, fills me with an aching sadness.

And the thought of Rook—of him being with someone else who could never fill the void he carries in his heart for me—pulls at me in ways I can’t explain.

Suddenly, he moves, pushing himself off me, giving me a much-needed air. He sits back on his knees, his eyes locking with mine, his expression unreadable, as his chin tilts upward, full of that darkness I know all too well. There’s no softness in his gaze, no hint of the connection we just shared, only coldness. It’s clear he hates me right now.

He tucks his cock away in his boxers, zipping up his jeans but leaving the belt undone, as if the moment we shared means nothing. When he’s finished, he reaches out, adjusting my lingerie back into place, but he doesn’t look at me. Then he moves away, making his way to the doors and stepping out of the van.

My eyes follow him as he stands outside in the snow, his back to me, lighting a cigarette and the ember glows briefly, casting a faint light on his face. I even forgot the doors have been wide open this entire time. The heat between us seems to melt away the blizzard outside.

I sit up carefully, the bells around my neck chiming softly, betraying my movement. Rook side-eyes me as I reach for his leather jacket and wrap it around my near-naked body, then crawl toward him. Then, his focus fixes on some point ahead, taking another deep drag of his cigarette.

When I’m at the edge of the van, I gently jump down into the snow, my boots crunching against the frozen ground. I almost slip but catch myself, steadying my steps until I stop behind him.

I slip my arms around the front of his toned body, loving his warmth, even though he’s shirtless and standing in the biting cold. Snowflakes fall and melt against his tattooed skin, the way I do when I touch him—lingering, then lost.

He inhales sharply as I press a kiss to his back, then growls low, a warning. “I’m not here for all that or to fall deeper in love with you, Bunny. That’s not what tonight is about. I’m here to fuck you out of my system and let us both move on with our lives.”

His words hit harshly, stabbing into my heart and I retreat slightly, unease creeping in. “Move on?” I murmur, loosening my hold on him, insecurity twisting through me.

He turns to face me, his eyes cold and distant, and I tilt my head back, meeting his gaze, snowflakes kissing my lips.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice hard and biting. “You can go live your happily ever after, and I’ll settle down with some poor chick who’ll never even come close to matching my sister. That’s how it was always gonna be, right?”

His words sting, sharper than they ever have. I don’t let him see it though, I lower my eyes quickly, hiding the hurt before he can catch it.

“Some chick?” I repeat quietly, the annoyance creeping in like an old friend.

But it’s always been this way. Rook’s possessiveness has always been way too much, suffocating at times, loud, but I’ve been just as jealous—only I kept it hidden. The only difference is, he’s always had the freedom to do whatever the fuck he wanted with other women. Me? I had men picked for me, like I was some damn object.

“Am I not allowed to be with other women when you’ve been fucking Blaise?” His accusation is like a dagger, and my brows lift in surprise by the spite in his words.

“Tell me, big brother,” I say, my voice calm but laced with a challenge, “how much have you been watching me?” I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. “Because if you were stalking me hard enough, you’d know I haven’t fucked a single man since that Christmas two years ago. You’re the only one I’ve ever been with.”

He doesn’t react at first. Instead, he takes another long suck of his cigarette, his dark eyes locked on mine as if searching for any sign of a lie, but I don’t budge because it’s the truth. I wait for an answer, but he just shrugs, the gesture careless.

“When it came to you and guys… I couldn’t do it.” He exhales, the smoke curling from his lips like his words. “When you started getting serious with Blaise, I stopped watching you altogether.”

“Serious?” I echo, my brows furrowing, disbelief and frustration mixing. “Do you really think any of these guys are what I want? Nothing will ever be fucking serious.”

A heavy silence settles between us and my heart throbs, an ache I can’t ignore, but I hold his gaze, steadying myself. “As you said, none of these poor men will ever match to my big brother.”

He stares into my eyes, his jaw clenched tight, like he’s holding back wrath. “And it took you all this fucking time to finally admit that? When I was fucking bleeding for you, you shot me down and made me feel like it was all in my head.”

My throat tightens and I can feel my eyes welling up, the memory of that night crashing over me again—how heartbroken he was, how I shattered him when I didn’t want to.

“I don’t want to hear it anymore, Ebony,” he mutters, shaking his head as if the thought disgusts him. “You fuck with my head. Drove me insane. You throw me these mixed signals time and time again. You tell me everything I want to hear when we’re alone, but when shit gets real, you fucking bail on me. You’ve never fought for this. You’ve never fought for us. And I can’t do it alone.”

He flicks his cigarette away before his cold fingers lock around my jaw, forcing my face up and his smoky lips brush over mine as he leans in.

“This Christmas is the end of us, little sister.” His tone is heavy with finality. “It’s how it all started, and it’s how it’ll fucking finish. So, soak it the fuck up, because this will never happen between us again.”

I search his eyes, a single tear slipping from mine, and in that moment, his gaze drops to my lips. He suddenly releases me, his touch gone as quickly as it came and he moves past me without a second glance, leaving me on the edge of breaking down.

But before I can even crumble, his arm snakes around my waist, yanking me back against him. In one swift, effortless motion, he lifts me into the van, lowering us onto the fur covered floor. He leans back against the van’s metal shell, tucking me sideways between his legs, and the weight of the butt plug inside me makes me feel uncomfortable.

He slips the leather jacket from my shoulders again, uncovering me to the biting chill. “Remember that Christmas when you broke your big toe?” His voice is softer now, his fingers brushing my hair aside, exposing the side of my neck.

I scoff, looking away. “You mean when you broke my big toe.”

“No, bunny. You broke it when you kicked me.”

“Yeah, because you tore the head off my new limited-edition Barbie and fed it to the dog!” I snap, my eyes narrowing as I glare up at him.

A devilish smirk spreads across his lips, handsomely beautiful. “Damn right I fucking did.” His gaze flickers between my lips and my eyes, his tone dripping. “You sat there staring at that plastic piece of shit for hours, calling it the most beautiful thing in the world.”

His expression darkens as he leans in, his voice almost a growl. “Like fuck I’d let my little sister think anything compares to her. So, yeah. I ripped her head off, fed it to the mutt, and laughed while doing it.” His fingers comb through the back of my hair, achingly gentle. “After that, it was just you again—the only thing that’s ever been perfect. And I’ll destroy anything that makes you forget it. Every. Fucking. Time.”

I stare into his eyes, my heart pounding, my mind racing. “Why the fuck are you telling me this, Rook?” My voice trembles, not with fear but with frustration. “You just made your feelings perfectly clear that this ends tonight.”

“I just want you to know,” he murmurs, “you were my sister before you were anything else. And I’ll always be the person you fucking need. You don’t always have to be flawless, Bunny. You don’t have to always be perfect—to be perfect to me.”

His words strike a chord, hitting somewhere deep. He knows I always strive for perfection—it’s woven into my veins, drilled into my mind for as long as I can remember. I have to choose perfection, look perfection, speak perfection. But with Rook, perfection has never mattered. He’s seen me at my worst, unashamedly. All my sharp edges and broken pieces. He’s seen how feisty I can be, how bare, how silly, how messy, and completely disorganized.

Around him, I’ve never had to keep up that fa?ade. I’ve never had to hide. He’s the one person who’s seen the chaos inside me and held it like it was something precious, something worthy of love. Worthy of his love.

I lift my hand to his face, aiming for the small black piece of tape under his left eye that’s been bothering me all night.

“What the fuck is this?” I mutter.

Before he can react, I rip it off his face, and he hisses sharply, causing me to smirk. But my amusement fades the second I see what’s underneath. My face falls, and my hand flies to cover my open mouth.

“Rook… is that—?”

His piercing green eyes snap to mine, gauging my reaction. My fingers tremble as I reach for his face again, my thumb brushing over the small black bunny mask tattoo inked beneath his eye.

“Please tell me that’s fake,” I gasp, my voice shaky as I meet his gaze.

His throat bobs as he swallows hard, then he gives me a small, almost faint shake of his head.

“I got it just after I left. I wanted to carry a part of you with me, despite the pain.”

My thoughts whirl, emotions clashing. He has something that represents me permanently marked on his face? That’s insane. I can’t even begin to process it. It’s so strangely romantic of him.

“Don’t worry, I regretted it almost immediately,” he says, his lips twitching into a wicked smirk, teasing me.

I force a smile in return, but it feels brittle, like it might shatter if he looks too closely. As I become lost in thought, I start to think it's best we get this night over with before he shreds my heart to pieces completely. He wants me for one more measly Christmas night?

Fine. Let’s give the plague a night he’ll never forget.