10. Cain

10

Cain

Billie doesn’t scream when I pull her head up by her hair. I’m not gentle. I don’t want to be. Right now, the three of us are playing a game for dominance. We used sex to communicate instead of conversation. Unhealthy as fuck, but what does anyone expect from the offspring of neglectful parents who never taught them to love?

I tug at Billie’s hair until the back of her head rests on my shoulder. “Be a good girl and use your safe word, Tinkerbell. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Fuck you, Cain. You’re too much of a pussy to break me.”

I smile at her bravado. The Billie we knew was as sweet and quiet as a mouse. I always worried she’d end up as a trophy wife for some piece of shit upper-crust politician. I should’ve known better. Billie has become a strong, sexy, willful woman who won’t roll over and play dead. She’s become a fighter.

I pick up a paperclip. I hold her nipple and glide it through the small metal piece. “Billie, I’ve learned a lot of little tricks over the years.” I flick her nipple, and she screams. “Nice and tight, baby. Just like your pussy.”

I slam her onto the floor, placing her head beside Lar’s cock before flipping open the bottle of lube. “You’re uptight, Billie. Better make sure this sexy ass of yours chills the fuck out. You ever tried THC lube? Shit works wonders. Best fuckin’ anal I’ve ever had, and since I’m a nice fuckin’ guy, I’m gonna give you the ride of your life.” I bush the tip of my cock along her puckered asshole. “Last chance, Tinkerbell. You know what to say to make it all stop.”

Billie sticks her ass out. “Fuck you.”

She grunts as I push inside her ass. A part of me wants to go in full thrust, but this is still Billie, and my heart won’t let me do anything that could cause damage. “Since you’ve got nothing to say, whore, why don’t you make that pathetic mouth useful and fill it with cock?”

Billie arches her back as I push her down onto Lars’ dick. She struggles as I hold her head, forcing her to choke. “You sound much better when you’re gagging, Tinkerbell. No one wants to hear what a worthless little cunt like you has to say. You think you mean something, little girl? That we’d fall on our knees and beg you for forgiveness. Nah, my pretty little slut, all we want is to use your slutty holes and send you on your way.”

On the outside, it would appear that I’m getting a perverse sense of satisfaction as I reign over both Billie and Lars, my dick fully sheathed in her tight little ass as Lars dutifully licks my asshole. The Alpha is on top of his subordinates, but they’re in control. Every action I take is with their wellbeing in mind.

Lars needs me to control his anger and rein in his rage. He wants to control Billie but also needs me to provide safety, so he knows I’ve got him no matter what.

Billie longs to feel dirty, to think of herself as less than. Everyone has told her that appearances are everything, forced to have perfect clothes and manners and portray excellence. She’s never allowed herself to let go. She needs to be used, so I let her be whatever she wants. She’s not refusing to use her safe word to spite us. It’s a little game. She’s refusing because she needs to be pushed. Billie longs for chaos, and I’ll give it to her.

The three of us always filled the holes that others chipped away. All broken, but together, we always healed. Sex wasn’t just sex. Kink wasn’t just kink. The anger between us wasn’t just anger. Everything we did, functional or dysfunctional, was a plea for healing that only the others could provide.

I trace my hand along the small scars on her back. Jagged cuts crisscrossing in perfect patterns. Marks she let me leave there so I could ease my pain.

I didn’t understand why my hand was shaking. Never did that when I dug the blade into my flesh. “Tell me if this hurts.”

Billie pressed her ass back, forcing my dick deeper into her pussy. She’d arrived at the shack crying, probably hoping to find Trevor. He was better at dealing with crying women, but she’d found me instead. I’d been sitting at the broken-down wooden dining table, knife in hand, slicing at my flesh.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Billie screamed, running toward me. “What the fuck, Cain?”

Her startled screams had me dropping the small pocket knife. The clang of the metal on the rotted wood floor made us jump.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demand.

“Answer my question first.”

The legs of my chair scraped on the floor before it fell back. I banged my fist on the table, glaring at her. “This is my place, Billie. I don’t have to answer to anyone.”

Billie stepped closer, ignoring my harsh words. She placed her hands on my face, her eyes earnest as they glared into mine. “Are you cutting yourself?”

Her gentleness was a foreigner invading my borders. “I like scars. Just giving myself a homemade tattoo.” I shrug. “You know I wanna look cool for all the groupies the band’s gonna get. Chicks like scars and all that shit.”

Billie’s eyes fluttered closed. She took a deep breath and walked past me to the knife lying on the floor. She picked it up and brought the blade to her palm, slicing through her skin and bringing it to my mouth.

I’d never been into blood, not really, but there was something alluring about Billie’s blood. I wrapped my fingers around her wrist, pulled her palm to my lips, and licked.

“Is it the blood or the sense of control when you’re causing pain?”

“Control. Until now.”

I gave Billie every scar on her back. Every mark was a symbol of her love for me.

I glide my fingers along the raised skin on her back.

I love you like the ocean loves the sea.

I need you like the oxygen I breathe.

I want you like sex on the brain.

The lyrics of one of our best-selling songs. Words written to visions of Billie.

Between Lars’ tongue and Billie’s sweet ass, I’m on the edge. But I don’t want to come. I want Billie to see what she’s up against. To realize we can do something for her that no one else can. I want her to understand that we are the only two men who can make her sore.

I fist her hair and pull her back, placing my hands under her ass and lifting her off Lars’ dick. “My prim and proper Tinkerbell. Always too frightened to show the world who she really is, hiding behind her granny sweaters and upper-crust grammar.”

I walk toward the balcony and use one hand to slide the door open. “You know what’s cool about this penthouse room?”

Billie simply shakes her head.

Right under us is a conference room. I stare at the clock on the wall. “In about two hours, we have a little meet and greet. So there will be some fans underneath us. Desperate to be in the position you’re in right now.”

I grab the extra balaclava on the side table and slip it over Billie’s head before turning to Lars. “Throw me that black shirt.”

Lars throws me the shirt, and I pass it to her. “I’d put it on you, but then I’d have to pull out of your ass, and I find it rather enjoyable there.”

“What the fuck am I wearing this for? I look like a pathetic groupie.”

I can’t help laughing. “Well, you can take it off and have someone identify you from your tattoos and scars. Up to you, Tinkerbell.”

“I’ll leave it on,” Billie says as I pull open the balcony door and walk us out to a horde of screaming fans.

“Jesus, do they have nothing to do but wait around for you like pathetic puppies?”

“You sound jealous, Tinkerbell.” I place a kiss at the top of her head.

Billie grabs the back of my neck, digging her nails in like a wild animal. “I have never been and will never be envious of a bunch of fucking hangers on.”

“Okay, baby. Smile for the cameras.” I hold her up to the crowd, pussy on full display as my cock moves in and out of her ass. “Wonder how many porn sites you’ll be on, pretty girl.”