CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

MIRA

––––––––

Both men bolt to attention. Christian gets me to my feet as Daniel drops his forks with a noisy clatter inside the dish.

“Stay here,” Christian says to me, long legs already moving to the door, Daniel on his heels.

I consider listening. A normal person would, but if Daniel and Christian need my help, I can’t just hide in the kitchen, but I’m also not dumb enough to run out without a weapon, so I grab a knife from the block next to the sink and hurry out into the living room.

The front door hangs open, a rectangular frame against the inky black of the night. Jagged silhouettes shudder and weave violently under invisible hands. But the doorway is empty, save for Daniel poking his head out to check the front porch.

Christian stands just behind him, fingers bunched into fists in preparation.

“Looks like the wind shoved the door open. Must not have closed all the way.” Daniel steps back into the room and gives the door a hard shove, sealing it firmly before snapping the lock in place.

“We were pretty distracted,” Christian muses.

Daniel snorts as he pushes the curtains aside over the window to check the yard again. “Looks like it’s going to be a windy night.”

Christian moves to the broken picture frame lying in a heap of shredded glass just behind the door. His knees pop as he bends to gingerly scoop the pieces overtop of the torn photo half poking out.

“Should chuck these,” he mutters. “Bastard isn’t around anymore to bask in his own glory days.”

Daniel turns and spots me across the room. He blinks. His gaze drops from my face to the knife in my hand. “Baby?”

Christian glances over his shoulder. His eyebrow lifts. “Didn’t I tell you to stay in the kitchen?”

I frown at both of them. “Then what? Just wait for the attacker to find me?”

Christian opens his mouth, possibly to argue only to hiss and jerk his hand out of the shards he was still gathering.

“Shit!” he mutters, stuffing his finger between his lips.

My heart claps against my chest. Worry and panic have me hurrying over but Daniel catches me around the middle with both arms.

“You don’t have shoes.”

I’m ready to tell him I will be careful, but Christian unfurls from his crouch. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Barely a knick.”

He moves past me towards the kitchen, never slowing even as he brushes the fingers of his good hand across my cheek in passing.

A moment later, he returns from the kitchen with a broom and dustpan.

“Can you check on the potatoes?” he says to Daniel as he moves to sweep up the mess.

Daniel takes me with him back to the kitchen. I’m caught around the middle and hoisted up onto the counter. The knife is taken from my fingers and returned to the block.

“Daniel?” I let my legs swing while I watch him yank the oven door open and grab the mitts.

“Yeah, baby?”

I wait for him to drag the tray off the rack and drop it on the elements. The mitts are tossed down on the counter and he gingerly pries back the foil off the closest potato.

“What happened with you guys and your dad?”

His fingers still, but immediately pick up taking up a fork and sinking the prongs into the withered, brown skin.

“It’s not really important,” he murmurs, moving to the next potato. “Dad wasn’t a nice person.”

I don’t know how to press him. I don’t want to demand answers if he’s not willing to share, but the things Christian says, the hatred he has for his own father has me curious, especially when Daniel rarely speaks about his parents. Barely his dad at all.

“Did he hurt you guys?”

He straightens and turns hooded eyes in my direction. “Sometimes. Mainly Chris and our mom. It wasn’t a good time. We don’t like talking about it.”

I let it go.

Who am I to press when it took me weeks to talk to him about my dad and I actually loved my dad? Whatever he did, I know Daniel and Christian have a good reason to hate him.

Christian returns to dump the shards into the trash. The broom and dustpan are returned to their hooks inside the pantry. I watch Christian move to the sink and wash his hands. He dries them on a towel and inspects his injury.

Even from my place on the counter, almost ten feet away, I can see the well of crimson bubbling up from the cut that Christian slips between his clever lips.

“Let me see,” I say, shifting in my place.

I don’t know why I’m so anxious. I know the cut isn’t deep. I know it’s not serious, still, something about seeing him hurt has my stomach in knots and I don’t understand it.

I capture his warm, strong hand when he reaches me. I cradle it between mine and examine the scratch.

Not deep. Barely more than a poke. But a plump bead of crimson rises to the surface.

Running on instinct, I’m dropping my face and kissing the spot next to the cut. I smooth my thumb along the long digit and peek up at the owner.

His eyes are hooded and dark with lust. It’s the same glint he had right before he’d shoved me into the truck and kissed me outside the diner this morning. I’m beginning to recognize it even before his lips part.

“Open.”

I do without hesitation, without comment. Without taking my eyes off his. I do it willingly knowing exactly what he’s about to do and accepting it.

When he slips his finger between my teeth, my head is already dipping. My lips are wrapping him in their warmth. I swirl my tongue around him, tasting the copper on his sweet skin.

All the while, our connection never breaks. Neither of us even blink. We hold gazes while I suck and lick his injured finger.

I know I barely know this man. I know it’s a reckless and possibly dangerous thing to lick someone’s blood, not to mention super weird, but it doesn’t feel weird. I’m not grossed out or uneasy. I mean, I know Daniel wouldn’t let me anywhere near his brother if he wasn’t safe, healthy. Daniel wouldn’t risk my safety, so I know without a doubt I’m not about to catch anything, except a whole cavern of feelings when his face tightens. When his other hand twists up in my hair and tugs my face up to take the mouth he closes over mine.

I expect the kiss to be hard and urgent, so I’m surprised when it’s a feather light whisper, a gentle nudging for entrance as he cleans his blood off my tongue.

“If your daddy wasn’t watching to make sure I behave, I’d have my tongue in your pussy right now,” he murmurs hotly against my mouth.

I nip his bottom lip between my teeth and earn a groan from him. “Daddy’s mean.”

“I can hear you,” Daniel mutters from his place by the stove next to us, dark head bent over the pork he’s still shredding.

Christian and I exchange grins.

With strong hands clamped under my ass, Christian lifts me up. Lets me hook my legs around his hips as he hauls me to the table. But rather than drop me into a chair, he sits, keeping me in his lap, my legs dangling on either side.

There’s nothing sexual about the way he pulls me tighter to his chest. His hands glide along my back in soothing strokes, saying nothing when I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes.

I don’t recall dozing. Part of me is still conscious of Daniel and Christian chatting in the distance, a low, soothing stream of conversation wrapped in a filmy gauze. Christian’s hands have found their way under my top. His palms are rough brushing the curve of my spine. His breath is warm against my neck, tickles my skin when he speaks. His chest rumbles against mine.

He’s not built exactly like Daniel, but they both have that hard solidness to them that makes a girl feel safe and protected.

I get that I shouldn’t be this comfortable with a guy I barely know, but he feels familiar. He feels like I’ve been in his arms my whole life. A part of me recognizes something in him.

Maybe it’s Daniel. Maybe he’s our connection. Maybe it would have been different if Christian and I met randomly.

But then he turns his face and nuzzles a kiss to my cheek. Lingers before returning to his conversation that makes my stomach melt.

I don’t know how this is possible, but I’m going to allow it. It’s only a few more days. Then he’ll be gone and I don’t know when I’ll see him again.

“Mi?” Daniel’s quiet coaxing has me resurfacing to a fully set table and Christian still holding me in his arms.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I feel the achy weight of waking up draining my strength. I half want to stay where I am, but hunger wins.

Daniel catches my waist when I shuffle awkwardly backwards off his brother’s lap. I’m drawn back against his chest. His lips find the side of my head.

“Want to go to bed?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Hungry.”

He doesn’t press but leads me to my chair and lets me drop into it.

I don’t talk hardly throughout the meal. No one asks me to and I’m grateful as I sit in my half-asleep state and eat my supper. The boys seem lost in their own conversation anyway. I partially listen.

After dinner, I help clear the table while they do the dishes.

I’m just tucking the broom away after sweeping the floors when Daniel scoops me up into his arms.

“Bedtime,” he states.

I’m not going to argue. I’m barely able to keep my eyes open.

He pauses just long enough to let Christian kiss me, long and hard, almost stirring me enough to wake up, but pulling away before I can get any ideas.

“Night, brat,” he murmurs.

I offer him a small grin and a wave before I’m being taken from the room.

“You had a really long ... active day,” Daniel says as he starts up the stairs.

I chuckle against the side of his neck. “You both wore me out.”

I think I hear a low rumbling growl vibrate between our bodies that make my nipples tingle. It rushes down to pool between my legs where Christian’s kiss has already dampened my panties.

Tentatively, I brush a kiss to the side of his neck. Follow it up with the sweep of my tongue up the strong pulse to his sharp jawline.

“Stop that,” he warns thickly.

I smirk against his skin. “I might be catching my second wind.”

“The only thing you’re going to catch is my hand on your ass.”

I snicker before I can stop myself. “Promise?”

Daniel groans. “Chris is right. You are a little brat.”

“Told you!” we hear yelled from somewhere below.

I laugh. Daniel just shakes his head, amusement curling the corners of his mouth.

We reach the top landing, and I lift my head to peer into his face.

“Will you both fuck me? Together, I mean,” I add.

Shadows hide his features but can’t conceal the hard thump of his heart against my chest.

“Do you want us to fuck you together?”

“Yes,” I blurt before he finishes. “If that’s okay. I want it.”

He makes a sound like a chuckle, but I can’t be sure. “Yeah, it’s okay. Very okay.”

I hesitate a fraction. Just a second where I pray — like me — he can’t see my face either when I whisper, “I get so wet when I think about it.”

“Yeah? What do you think about?”

Maybe it’s my imagination, but his voice sounds gruff. Tense.

“Both of you taking me at the same time. Taking turns. Forcing me to take you both in whatever way you—”

“Stop. I shouldn’t have asked.”

I bite back my grin, but I’m sure he can hear it. “Did I make you hard, Daddy?”

“Fuck, Mira.”

He practically kicks down my door and dumps me on my bed. I hit the mattress with a bounce and a squeak. I’m momentarily blinded by my curtain of hair before I shove the strands back to peer up at the man scowling down at me.

He’s pissed ... and rock hard.

His hands hang at his side, ten curled fingers of frustration. His chest heaves with every breath he’s trying to control as he grinds his molars to dust.

Still feeling bold and a little drunk on this newfound power, I let my knees slip open. Expose the apex of my body. Delighted when his gaze drops to my center still covered in my shorts.

“Help?”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to call him daddy again. His reaction is always so raw, so visceral. It turns the sweet, soft man I love into a vicious and ravenous beast starving to consume me.

But I also don’t want to overuse it. It’s only been a day. I have to pace myself.

Not that it seems I need to pull out the D card because Daniel looks on the verge of both strangling me and fucking me.

I hope both.

The thought has me squirming even as he reaches for my hips. I’m practically vibrating with anticipation.

Only, he’s not pulling my shorts down. He’s bruising my skin with fingers he digs into my sides. Anchoring himself in, just to twist me over onto my belly.

My shorts rip down over my ass to my knees and a new surge of excitement courses through me. It dances down my spine, hooks into the back of my belly button.

I lift my hips. Part my knees. I’m dying to feel him slide that beautiful dick back inside me. It feels like days...

Sharp, stinging pain erupts across my right ass cheek. It latches with the same severity as the teeth Daniel has sunk into my soft flesh, drawing blood.

Marking me.

I scream even as my body buckles with desire. As it skates up my spine. Tightens around my clit. It’s unbearable and tears burn my eyes, but I don’t tell him to stop.

But when he does, the release of his jaw, the rush of blood returning to the spot, the new burn has my core rushing. Trickling down my thighs.

I mash my damp face into the sheets, back heaving between sobs and uncontrollable moans as I fight the crippling wave of orgasm tightening the pit of my stomach.

Daniel laps the spot with the flat of his tongue, soothing the ache he’s caused. I have to resist the urge to tilt my hips just a fraction to get that tongue between my lips.

“Daniel,” I breathe.

My answer is the harsh jerk of my body getting yanked over the side of the bed. My feet hit the floor and are kicked wide. The weight of his solid frame comes down across my back, pinning my torso to the mattress. His thick, hard cock wedges into my ass crack. The denim a harsh texture against my naked skin. His hand knots in my hair and my head is pulled back enough for his lips to graze my ear.

“You make Daddy so fucking hard, Mira. But when I say no, you will listen, understand?”

My bottom lip trembles. I try to nod, but his grip on my hair is unwavering.

“Yes,” I whisper shakily.

His hold doesn’t loosen, and I can feel strands being torn from my scalp, adding to my sweet pain.

“Good. Next time, I will edge you until you can’t breathe. I will torture you until you lose your fucking mind. I will keep you there until I feel like you’ve learned your lesson.”

I don’t know if he’s intentionally trying to turn me on or scare me, but I’m barely keeping it together.

It’s only the threat of not being allowed to cum that stills my hips from rubbing at him like a kitten in heat.

Vaguely, I hear him mutter a curse and jerk his hips back. His hand releases my hair. The loss of support sends my face into the mattress where I stay, struggling to control my breathing, to control the tiny waves of climax prickling and tightening around my clit. The pulse. It’s so overwhelming I need to close my thighs. I need pressure to soothe the ache, but he’s keeping me bent over and open and I can feel the chill in the room whispering along my wet folds. Tracing my empty opening. Licking the arousal smeared across my skin.

I whine, the sound pathetic even to my own ears and curl my stiff fingers into the sheets. I’m practically on my toes like he might take pity on me and slide his cock home.

“You’re dripping, Mira. Your little cunt is making puddles on the floor.”

I squeeze my eyes shut as humiliation burns behind them with tears. “I’m sorry. I think there’s something wrong with me,” I croak into the sheets.

“Wrong?” His fingers smooth between my lips. Between my folds. They find my clit, the heart of my agony and rub with the lightest whisper of his fingertips. Not enough. “Oh, my sweet little doll, no. This is exactly how I want my toy — so horny her pussy leaks down her legs. I bet you feel so good right now. So tight and ready.”

“Fill me. Please, Daddy. Fill me before you tuck me into bed.”

“Goddamn it!” I hear him snarl under his breath and a liquid rush of excitement joins the flow dripping across the hardwood between my parted feet.

I hear the sharp hiss of a zipper, the rustle of denim.

“Hold still, baby. Daddy needs to feel you like this.”

Is all the warning he gives before driving his cock deep into my willing body.

Time collapses around me with that single plunge. It’s not mindless like in the truck, but he’s methodical in the way he’s fucking me with slow, measured strokes that drive me up onto my toes.

“Fuck, yes...” he groans with such guttural pleasure I clench around his dick. “Good girl, fuck, you’re such a good girl. You take Daddy’s cock so well.”

I’m dying to move. To meet his hips. I need more, but I’m pinned under the palm pressed into my lower back. He’s keeping me still. Stationary.

A toy.

A doll.

It shouldn’t but a thrill tears through me and I do my best to be the perfect doll for him. I keep my ass high and my thighs steady even when the pressure building in my core threatens to make them tremble. I crush the sheets between my fingers and hold my breath but he feels too good and I’ve been on edge for so long.

“Daddy, I’m cumming,” I squeak. “I’m cumming. Please ... please, fuck me.”

The hand on my back lifts. It vanishes for a second before it’s sliding under my right knee. Lifting it. Propping it on the mattress while my other foot stays balanced on its toes.

His other hand clamps down on the back of my neck. Holds me down.

“Does my little doll want to cum?”

I can’t nod. I can’t move. I’m powerless as he increases speed. I’m helpless and spiraling as he angles his hips, his dick and hits something inside me that makes me see stars.

I think I scream but it’s lost in the roar of endless nothing I plummet into as he pounds my pussy like it owes him money. Not an ounce of gentleness. Not a care that he’s bruising my skin. He has one goal, one mission and it’s to kill me with orgasms.

I’m not sure I’m even fully conscious when he finally empties his load inside me and gathers me up into his chest, but I have a fleeting remembrance that I need to take my pills before I slip into a deep slumber.