He controlled everything… even my breath.
“Yes,” I managed, the words weak and breathless, and not at all what I should say.
“I don’t need youryes.” His husky words sounded harsh and yet… my body still responded as if he had whispered sweet nothings and romantic compliments.
I didn’t know what else to say, how else to resist a man so able to shatter my every resistance. Everything about this was wrong. So very wrong. I had just been with Jay. His brother had just handled my body with the same level of dominance Rye was doing now.
So fucking wrong!
He held me still, lowering his head, kissing the side of my neck with parted lips. “I could kill you right now so easily,” he said softly and controlled.
“I’m already dead,” I squeaked, tempting the fates to see what he’d do next.
“Very true.” He paused just long enough to squeeze harder. “You are at my mercy. I could take you, make you mine. Anything I choose. You aren’t in control. I am.” He kissed me on the lips again. “Weare in control.”
Memories of how he’d stopped that night in his truck… how my body, my mind, had both protested, flooded through me. I didn’t think I could survive if he pulled away again. Not when my entire body was on fire with a need that had to be quenched. “I understand.” Was the only thing I could barely whisper. Speech was conquered by sexual need.
In one quick movement, Rye scooped me up into his arms and carried me to his bed. My body melted against his, my thoughts drowning in a mixture of what was right and what was wrong.
Fucking Rye was wrong.
Fucking Jay was wrong.
Fucking Banks was wrong.
And yet… I craved wrong. I desired wrong. I needed wrong.
Resist,deny,fightechoed in the rational part of my brain as Rye removed all my clothing effortlessly. I shivered, not with cold, but with forbidden and taboo passion. His fingers and kisses on my body touched exact places his brother had such a short time ago.
A repeat of darkness.
A repeat of lust and seduction.
A repeat of sin.
I knew without a doubt he’d claim me as Jay had just done. He would be different and yet, at the same time, the same. They were both demanding. They were both in control. They both took without asking. But at the same time, I gave.
I gave, I gave, and I would give again.
15
Goldie
Rye placed me on the bed with my belly pressed against the coolness of his bedspread. He had an iron headboard with intricate swirls and antique charm. He was the first of the brothers whose room I had seen the inside of. It gave me a taste of normal in a very abnormal situation.
Not wasting any time, Rye placed kisses on my shoulder, down my spine, and then kissed my punished ass.
“The strap does a good job of leaving its mark, doesn’t it,” Rye said, his rough fingers scraping across my buttocks.
I didn’t need to answer. The weals left by the band of leather were obvious, his palms molding to them as his roughened fingertips squeezed my punished flesh. All I could do was reach for the headboard, tighten my grip, and allow his touch to reignite the fire his brother had begun. My eyes slammed shut the moment I felt his touch on my most intimate opening. The memories of what Jay had done, the knowledge that I’d surrendered my cherry as well as my belief that anal sex was not my sexual kink made my blood rush and my pussy spasm.
“Got your ass fucked, did you?” he asked, a finger slipping inside that dark, recently used little hole, to swirl around, to pull out.
I shrieked when his palm connected with my ass, my eyes flying open in shock to meet his.
“I asked you a question, Goldie,” he said, his finger returning to dip inside again.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, your brother fucked my ass—hard.”