Controlling Interests: A Step-Brother Romance (The Legacy Book 2) (16 page)

Either way, he won.

My fingers slipped from the ottoman, and the quiet pace of my breathing quickened. I arched.

Reed withdrew, swearing with every passing second he was forced from my warmth.

“Not allowed,” He winked. “Gotta ask first, Sarah.”

My legs still parted for him. In the dim light cast from the projector screen, his cock glistened with my wetness. It only excited me more.

He answered my cry by plunging in me. I gripped him instead, closing my eyes and fighting the waves of intensity determined to break my mind and lose me within the rampage that was his conquering of my body.

My time with Reed was never measured in sensual heartbeats like with Nicholas or lashed pain with Max. It was an eager game, a race to finish if only to tease the other for taking so long.

Christ, was that a mistake.

I gasped against him, fighting the tension building within my core. Every thrust dizzied me with frustration. I panted his name and struggled, offered my hips and beat against his tensing forearms.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Reed grunted. “Say the magic word, Sarah. You can too.”

Absolutely not.

Or was I crazy not to?

I didn’t even know anymore.

I bit too hard against my lip and fought every coiling pound of my heart. Reed groaned, filling me in three quick thrusts.

Heat.

Too much heat.

Our bodies pressed together, and I stretched over Reed’s shuddering, thickening cock. Jet after jet of seed flooded me, and I fought the instinct to clench and join him in a shared excitement.

“Way to go, champ.” Max laughed. “I’m getting you a stop-watch for Christmas.”

Reed flipped his brother off as he pulled from me. “Let’s see you do better.”

Uh-oh.

I should have expected what was about to happen, but I hardly remembered to breathe, let alone defend myself from my step-brothers.

Max accepted the challenge. I squealed as he hauled me from the ottoman and onto his lap. My fingers dug into his t-shirt, but my timid tugs weren’t enough to deter him.

He bundled my hair in his hand.

“You gonna say the words?” He jerked my head. “Come on, baby. Just whisper them to me.”

I stayed silent. He grinned.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

He freed his hard cock from his jeans. My stilled.

“But…Reed just…”

“I don’t’ care?” Max’s words bit with lusted threat. “I’m gonna fuck you till you scream that safe word, baby.”

Oh, God. I didn’t doubt him.

I searched for Nicholas. The bastard sat motionless, savoring a glass of red wine. His nod gave his brother permission to proceed.

The torment wouldn’t end.

But the pleasure waited only for my word to begin.

Nicholas didn’t raise a hand to punish me. I did it to myself.

I squeezed Max’s shoulders, fighting my desperation. He straddled me over his lap. I held on tight.

It didn’t prepare me.

Nothing ever prepared me for Max’s demands.

He was built to impale, to crush, to dominate and hurt and
force
.

And yet, I collapsed against his chest, moaning a quiet fatigue into the hollow of his shoulder. His cock slid easily within me, slickened with the heat left by Reed. The seed slammed ever deeper into me thanks to his brother’s furious thrust. Max gripped my hips with a brute strength and a profane grunt.

“Hold on, baby,” he said. “You’re gonna enjoy this.”

He stole my balance, my breath, my every thought. He hauled me to the tip of his cock, the angry and swollen head that aimed for the deepest and most sensitive part of me. I whimpered as he slammed me down just to hear my moan. The grinding of his hips forced his length deeper, harder. A complete invasion of everything I was. I stretched over him and ached against the denied release.

In any other time, any other moment, any other
fantasy
, I would have surrendered immediately, collapsed in his arms, and offered every last bit of my tightness.

Now?

I held my breath as he lifted my hips just to torture me once more.

Another pummeled strike. Another aching groan lost in sudden assault and denial. My thighs slickened with Reed’s seed and my own arousal, rendering me a humiliating mess of use and desire. Max laughed, impaling me onto his growing cock and watching as I shuddered with every invading thrust.

He’d break me apart before he emptied within me.

Or maybe that was his goal?

And mine.

God, I wanted to come.

I struggled within his aggression. Taken once and marked only to be stolen and fucked again. The air thickened with a primal determination, a masculine craving to control not just the whimpering woman bouncing upon a thickness too big and rough to oppose, but to conquer those who would dare to challenge their hold over me.

Three men.

Three frustrations.

Three instinctual urges to rut, seed, and claim.

And I lost myself within my own agony—the fading line between pride and surrender, instinct and protection, sensuality and arrogance.

The fizzling, heated,
painful
longing rent my muscles in sheer pain to release. I’d never denied myself before, never thought my step-brothers would deny me.

The words were a dark temptation.

Just a peep. A whisper. They listened for it. They played me and rutted me and
tortured
me to earn that moment of satisfaction when my body collapsed, my mind broke, and my will shattered to their own obsessions.

But maybe…

I arched.

What if I didn’t say it? What if I teased and just took what they had denied?

What would they do?

Max’s cock slammed into me once more.

I willed him deeper, harder, fuller…

The crack against my behind fractured my reverie, but the blinding pain of the spank only heightened the cruel invasion and endless sensations. I clenched.

“No, you don’t!” Max hauled me off his lap and tossed me onto the chair.

So.

Close.

He loomed over my spread legs. “Naughty fucking slut.”

Slut
.

The slur might have insulted me if I hadn’t squirmed on the leather, soaked in my own slickness and the seed of a man who had already taken what he wanted. Max tugged my legs to the edge of the chair, spreading me in ways that exposed the swollen, silken puff of my slit. He fisted his cock as I tried to escape, to breathe.

Max slapped my thigh. I went still.

“You know the words. You’re not getting off that easy.”

Christ, I wasn’t getting off at
all
. And now? I was getting a punishment.

He leaned over me, raging cock in hand. I bolted. He moved faster, determined to impale me with what I had almost taken in my fevered madness. A reprimand for assuming I could challenge him, oppose him, defeat him…

The slice of his cock almost broke me in half. Max pounded my slit, his fists gripping the back of the chair as his fury drove his motions. My legs spread, and he trapped me under the force of his body again and again. The air squeezed from my chest and the courage from my trembling form. I whimpered, fighting his power over me and the quaking demand of my core to accept his violation.

Deeper.

Harder.

Faster.

I turned my head, and it was my greatest mistake yet.

Nicholas watched every stroke, every tightening of my body, every second another man—his own brother—thrust within me. My struggle didn’t move him. He ignored my pleas. Nicholas merely waited for the moment to grant me
permission
to come and sate my exhausted body.

He wanted this for me.

His brothers weren’t a threat to him. He didn’t dread offering me to them or watching me fight my own need for two other men. Nicholas wielded an absolute control over each of us, and that power excited him more than money, success, or the empire he might have built from the claiming of my body.

Christ, how was I supposed to oppose him? How was I supposed to survive this?

I had to trust him.

Falling in love with Nicholas Bennett was my only defense against his limitless power.

Max roared, his strikes too hard and fast for anything but his own excitement. He seized my hips and held me in place, slamming his cock deep inside.

For the second time, masculine heat filled me.

For the second time, I panted in sheer frustration and madness.

I didn’t have the strength to fight anymore.

Especially as Nicholas rose to take his turn.

“I’m impressed, Ms. Atwood.”

He unbuttoned his cufflinks only to roll the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows. I read every secret in the golden flare of his eyes—a brightness so righteous I believed I was the villain for opposing him and not the victim of a cruel game with crueler expectations.

“Stronger than you thought?” My voice weakened in his shadow.

He tilted his head, his finger pressed to his lips. “No speaking, Ms. Atwood, not unless I give you permission.”

More restrictions.

More rules.

More insanity.

My body ached everywhere—my head, my chest, the pounded and neglected pussy that coated with seed and yet still demanded more.

He pointed to the ottoman at his feet.

I don’t know why I did it. I don’t know why I surrendered.

But I gave into him.

And my reward? Nicholas peeled the dress from my body. He dropped me, naked and trembling, onto my knees upon the ottoman. I exposed everything to him and offered my step-brothers the vision of my surrendered form waiting for the next man, the final man, to claim me as his own.

Only this time, it wasn’t just a game.

It wasn’t a quick thrill or practiced sadism.

Nicholas permitted his brothers to take me, but I belonged only to him.

And he would prove his dominance.

I held my breath, but the heat of his swollen cock pressing against my abused slit was every relief I demanded, every reassurance my body craved, and every pleasure I denied to myself. I gripped the leather. Nicholas chuckled.

His thrust would end me.

A blitz of sensation rampaged through my tender core. Harsh and soft, pleasing and painful, demanding and
loving
.

I was lost before he started. He possessed me. He owned me. He stole me.

I hadn’t the strength to fight him. No way to resist the invasion of his cock. No reason to not accept every gifted inch of his devotion. I shuddered, but Nicholas didn’t hurt me. He didn’t tease me.

His hands gently caressed my curves, savoring the surrendered shivers and delicate secrets so helpless under his hold.

His movements stirred too deep in me. The emotion stole my thoughts, layering me in a whimpering helplessness for his touch, his embrace, his whispered promises. The velvet cadence of his words guided me from one shudder to the next, comforting me as his thrusts increased and his demands nearly broke the last of my resistance.

“Don’t give in now, Sarah.” His arms wrapped over me, arching me to him as his cock buried completely within my aching slit. “You’re so close.”

“Can’t…”

“Yes, you can.” His teeth nipped my neck. “Wait for me.”

“So…close…”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Even if I had the strength to speak a safe word, the last phrase I’d ever utter within Nicholas’s arms was something so dreadful. Not when every moment spent tortured by his body delivered me closer to an endless, savory, mythical satisfaction I could no longer deny.

I shook my head. “But…love you…”

Nicholas laughed, his lips kissing my neck as his thrusts pounded me with demanding, unyielding instinct.

“You’re right.” He gripped me tighter. “I don’t like the safe word either.”

“But...please….”

“I do like
please
, but you can do better than that.” His words weighed with a strict, undeniable command. They tortured with darkness and savored with permissions for me to repeat. “Come with me.”

“Oh, God, yes.”

Easily. Eagerly. Desperately.

But I should have expected a challenge from Nicholas Bennett.

“Tell me where you want me to come.”

And there it was.

I stiffened. Reed and Max smirked, but nothing about Nicholas’s tone shared their amusement.

He wanted to hear it.

He wanted to feel it.

He wanted me to think about the alert on his app and the implications and the risk involved with offering myself so bare and vulnerable and unprotected against all three of my step-brothers.

It was a wicked game, and it meant nothing.

But the words dusted upon my lips.

His thrusts beat me, driving me to a brink I didn’t know existed and a pain that seared me in an eternity of heartbeats and mind-shattering ache.

I couldn’t fight it anymore.

I couldn’t fight him.

His cock thickened, and his breath raged within my ear. I tensed with him, bound to the same relief and weeping for a release before I collapsed in utter defeat.

“Nick…” My voice trembled, ineloquent and desperate. “Nick, please…”

“Say it.”

Submission.

Submission of my mind. Of my soul. Of my body.

He wanted me in every way a man could possess, but I denied him that, every time he touched me, every time they took me.

Something in his confidence rattled me.  I feared saying it, almost as though it would come true, almost as though he could control a part of me I shielded from even the will of a Bennett...

Need blinded me. I panted, arched, and cried his name.

“Nick,
please
.” I deserved every last strike, every pain, every
pleasure.
“Come inside me!”

The words delivered us to the brink, dazzled us in pain, and lost us both within a burst of heat that crippled me from the inside out.

Without Nicholas’s grip, I would have collapsed upon the ottoman or floor or dissolved into a nothingness that existed beyond my tired, spent, and broken form. I convulsed within the sudden freedom granted by the fracturing of my pride.