The Hot Brothers Ch. 07

this is a first draft rambling. There may be inconsistencies.

I must have been drunk on the moment, because I didn't even know he'd freed his cock. Sure, my mind had me loving the possible sensations, but I felt the surprise when he shoved into my tender womanhood, slamming our bodies together. "This was meant to be mine first." His cock felt bigger than Caleb's, but didn't land too deep.

John didn't bother with being gentle when he fisted the hair at the back of my head. I didn't want gentle anyway. The more dominating, the more passionate and closer to my fantasies. This hadn't gone beyond what I wanted a man to do to me. Not yet, anyway.

I was still at a loss for words. I expected him to be far more terrifying. To unleash his sadist side that Caleb warned of. Maybe I had this man all wrong. Maybe Caleb wanted me to be at odds with John.

When he'd filled me to the brim, he said, "You knew that before fucking my brother, didn't you?"

Caleb did tell me that John wanted me first. Actually, that John wanted to know the first child was his child. I cringed at the thought. No. babies and breeding weren't part of my fantasies, nor would they ever be.

The hold in my hair tightened as his hips inched backward. He was waiting to kiss me, I knew that by the closeness and his enrapturing gaze. He wanted my answer first, though.

I began, "We--"

"Yes or no." This time, he scooped me by my lower back and pulled me forward more at the edge of the counter. Another plunge into me hit that perfect spot.

"Yes," I breathed. The force of our bodies colliding was surprising, but desirable, no less. Why hadn't I considered this to be a possibility? He'd been the sort of man I agreed to let take me into the shadows. He laid out his plans the first night and had me eager to accept. Oh, right, it came down to the issue of unwillingness to wrap his dick.

As he pumped, his mouth took ownership of mine. I shouldn't have loved how both brothers felt. This seemed wrong. As though there had to be one good brother and a bad one. And Caleb failed every test of being a bad guy.

I moaned. Not only because of the way this felt, but every thought of the pleasures to come. They could both have me in a repeating cycle if it would feel this good.

The kiss became so fierce that by the time our lips separated, I had to catch my breath. He had no desire to make oxygen an easy feat, and his mouth latched to mine again as his pistoning grew more impassioned. Really, really impassioned. The sort of impassioned after a woman finally submitted to the man who owned her. The way an Alpha male claimed what belonged to him. Like when the bandit captures a Virgin princess--

The next plunge into me had me bobbed backward with him achingly deep. Fuck, did his gorgeous emerald stare own my soul as hot seed burst into me.

He held in place, breathing against my face, examining my desperate expression for fulfillment. And he looked livid given the amazing sex we'd just experienced. "You were thinking about someone else." He spoke matter of factly.

My heart crashed downward. Technically, I was merely comparing it to similar experiences I'd longed for. There was no particular man on my mind. Certainly no one I had been with prior to John, who'd brought all those past fantasies of impassioned sex to my mind.

His manhood pushed painfully deeper and twitched against my cervix, freeing whatever remnants of seed remained. "Next time I'll make certain you're not able to imagine anyone but me while I breed this pussy I own." The sadist-turned-impassioned-lover flipped back to being a hostile sadist.

I didn't know how to respond. I knew he'd stated his intentions to end my joyful life by making me a mother. That wasn't an option. It also helped me to get back into the mindset of not being dragged away by these two irresistible brothers who came close to feeling like real-world fantasies, if not for the breeding fetish plans.

After a step backward and jerking his pants up, he pulled my arm to bring me to rise from the counter. If only Caleb were close by, I wouldn't be as concerned. But Caleb would only add another person I would need to escape. Running from Caleb would be fun and rewarding. A run from John, though. I cringed at the thought. Why hadn't I trusted my instincts and gotten away earlier.

Now I would have no choice but to seek protection from cops. That in itself would be a disappointment, but the brothers could always be in my mind, awaiting their opportunity and watching me. So long as it didn't come to being ensnared again, I could settle for that outcome.

When John began toward the door with me in tow, I attempted to twist my arm free. "At least give me your shirt or jacket." Remembering his delight with flowers, I grabbed a vase of two dozen long-stemmed crimson roses. "And I need flowers."

He didn't release me, and his narrowed eyes reminded me of my lack of rights to make demands. "You don't deserve clothes." his grip to my upper arm tightened. "Walk fast if you don't like being cold." Those words preceded himspeedily forcing me out of my shop.

Not a one thing would be considered more miserable than being in the low fifties topless and crotchless with cum dripping down. At least not at the moment. Sure, in a fantasy, being subjected to torturous conditions could be fun, but not like this when I actually had to experience the discomfort.

His urgency led us beside the pond in less than a minute. Tossing Caleb in seemed mean and foolish. Kinky in the punishment, but I didn't want to do it. Knocking John in seemed more along the lines of survival from what horrors would come to me in the looming touring vehicle's silhouette ahead.

Nope. The fucking brothers were very obviously wealthy given that was what he arrived in and decked out with a dungeon. They didn't know the area well enough to catch up to me if I ran.

With John's focus on getting me to the vehicle that equated to my doom, I clung to my flowers and faked a trip so he had no choice but to stop or drag me. The successful attempt had him stopping to force me up, at which point I hastily swung the heavy vase at him. He had to free me to block it, giving me the opportunity to also push him sideways to drop into the frigid pond that sat perfectly low enough.

He could enjoy the shock of the cold. And he did fall. Not all the way in, since it wasn't completely full, but into a few feet and the slippery clay that wasn't easy to get out of.

And I knew better than to give him another glance so I ran.

Caught

Don't look back. Those words repeated. And why the hell wasn't I running toward the treeline? Why was I running toward the massive touring bus and my house? At the realization and the unsteadyness taking hold, I turned to run into the field toward a neighboring house only a quarter of a mile away. The old elderly couple could help me.

Lights weren't on to guide my footing, but I grew up here. Even in my teenage years, I longed for the need for escape from home invaders or nords that came to capture women. Sexy shirtless men who stopped at nothing to have me--and they would surely rip off my clothes and force me into submission once I'd been captured.

The thought gave me a new energy, but unlike those wild desires to be owned, I couldn't fall to the ground and scurry backward with a man catching up to tower above me. Those nords were nice in my memories. They did things that would make any girl as delusional as me desperate for release.

Halfway there. Flashes overtook my mind. Years worth of memories of all the ways my imagination said such a sun would end. Excitement to see a line of men, all of whom were ready to claim me. My heart pounded, not permitting me to hear my own feet hit the hard dirt or anything around.

Then came the force from behind that had me with my face and nude chest planted to the cold ground. And then the teenage daydreams consumed me. Why the fuck did he have to land on me in way that easily positions him to have his way with my body? To easily use his manhood to mark me as his and roughly use me with the sort of force that would break my will to fight. Out of fantasy habit, my legs spread wide, baring my exposed core.

Water leaked down onto me, and the cold of wet clothes stuck to my back. His groin pressed downward, though not as hard as I would have imagined. "If you think this little act of submission is going to save you from my wrath, you are mistaken, slave." Each word came out with a sharpening growl.

The cold and his recent use of my body hindered him from fulfilling one of my darkest desires.

"I should have put you in your place the moment I had you alone." He forced a painful grip to my wrists with his weight baring down.

I'd been here before. Whimpering beneath a man who planned to do the most tormenting of things to me. Unfortunately, cold and uncomfortably held with a heavy weight crushing me. But that only added to the intensity of this shocking moment.

"You're hurting me." I forced as deep of a breath as I could.

Cold water still dripped from his hair onto me as he added all his weight onto me. "You have no fucking idea what pain feels like."

And I believed his threat. "Please. let me up." I just wanted him off. I wanted warmth. Even if I'd failed to get free, he could provide me with a small amount of comfort instead of this. the richer billionaire or mafia types never would consider keeping their captive in the mud.

He remained, preferring to torture me over getting himself warm. Couldn't he at least care about his own comfort? A man who would suffer misery to make me suffer worse would be a horror to be owned by.

"You'll get sick." I hoped the feigned concern would work. After all, the guy liked flowers and classical music. He wanted someone romantic and caring for his well-being.

"If you cared about that, you wouldn't have tossed me into a filthy fucking country water hole." He had a point, but why was he arguing? This was my dark and brooding captor. In no well-reviewed book I read did people behave outside of expectations. And his inconsistency made me doubt everything about him.

It wasn't like I was the unreliable narrator of my own life. I saw things precisely as they were. Except for when I thought about the dark antiheroes and billionaire kidnappers I so loved. And maybe the way I bumped into men at night with certainty they would drag me to their shifter lair of five men who all wanted me.

If only I hadn't become too cold and shivery for the excitement of the thought. John had acted wolfish. I knew paranormal wasn't real, but maybe he was simply a bit of an Alpha type that was also loving. Puppyish and playful and unconcerned with the cold.

"I'm going to punish you beyond belief," he hissed against my ear.

And shifters made for fun disciplinarians.

Once again, I found myself saying the foolish word that I said the night we met. "Okay." Ridiculous, of course. No one would actually say that in this predicament. But what else would I do? Fighting this wouldn't work. "But no breeding."

His words came out in a growl. "I'm going to spend all night filling you with my cum and have you fucking pregnant tomorrow, slave." And with those words, his weight and the wetness of his clothing no longer pressed onto me. "But I'm not going to fuck a woman who's probably covered with cow shit."