“Rafe?”
He lifts his head up. His eyes are bloodshot as hell, and he holds up the glass in his hand. “Brother. Nice to see you. Both of you.”
“How much have you had?” It’s been barely an hour since we were in the kitchen, listening to Silas strip himself bare for Stasi. And Rafe is… absolutely trashed.
He shrugs. “Don’t know. Don’t particularly care.”
I glance around the music room. He’s hidden away in the corner, and he waves his hand as I look down at him. “Don’t mind me. Play away.”
I press my lips together. “We all have a share of the blame here, Rafe.”
He laughs, sarcastic and cold. “Do we? You always believed in her. Silas… she loves him. It’s plain as day to see. Me, I just keep on getting her hurt. Every fucking step I take ends with her hurting, Kit.”
I take a seat next to him. “The decisions belong to all of us.”
He looks down, moody and obstinate. “I made it so much fucking worse for her. When she came. Everything I did was designed to hurt her.”
“So, apologize,” I say. “Make it up to her, Rafe.”
He stares across the room. “I wouldn’t even know where to fucking start. I’ve put a damn wall between us and I can’t fucking climb it.”
“One step at a time,” I suggest quietly. “Brick by brick. The wall will fall eventually, Rafe. But it doesn’t happen overnight.”
He doesn’t respond. I know my twin well enough to understand when he needs to work through things at his own pace, so I leave him there, sliding onto my piano stool. I play quietly, enjoying the music, until a soft pair of hands land on my shoulders.
Stasi slips in next to me. Her hair is wet, and she fiddles with it. “I think I’m going to need more conditioner. And another hairbrush. I seem to have lost half of the one you gave me trying to tackle the nest.”
She sounds apologetic.
“You can have anything you want,” I say softly. “We’ll look tomorrow, get it ordered.”
A cough behind us makes her jump. She nearly flies from her seat, twisting with her hand over her heart. “Shit, Rafe. You scared me.”
“Sorry.” His voice sounds scratchy. “I’ll be back.”
We both watch as he disappears out of the door. Stasi’s shoulders drop a little.
“One of Rafe’s faults is his temper,” I say quietly, tracing my finger along the keys. “He’s rash to anger, and he makes decisions. He’s worried that some of those decisions make him… irredeemable. To you.”
Stasi sucks in a breath. “I’m not sure he cares very much about what I think of him.”
I hold her gaze. “Then you would be wrong.”
Her eyes soften. “Do your brothers know how much you fight for them?”
My lips twitch up. “No more than they do for me.”
“You’re a good man, Christopher Tate.”
I wince, and she laughs. “Still hate being called Christopher?”
“Yep.” I play a light, quick melody. “Although I suppose I could get over it, if you have a preference.”
Maybe.
Her hand closes over mine. “I like Kit.”
When I turn to her, her face is close to mine.
Her voice drops to a whisper. “It’s so easy to love you, Kit Tate.”
And my heart stutters inside my chest. Stasi brushes her lips over mine. Once. Twice. And I sink into her, my fingers dropping from the keys and sliding into her hair as she moans, opening up for me, even as I try to be gentle, to mind the corner of her lip.
I’ve kissed her before. And yet there is more between us now. More honesty. More emotion. As if the people we were then are catching up to the people we are now.
I break apart from her. “I love you.”
I have always loved her. I never stopped.
I will never stop loving Anastasia.
“Kit.” She kisses me, harder, and I drag her onto my lap, my hand cupping the side of her neck as I slowly press her backwards with her legs around my waist until the keys ring out in disjointed song.
When I trace her side, trailing the material with my fingers, she gasps into my mouth, sitting up. “Take it off.”
My hands slide up her stomach, pushing the thin black material with it until I can hook it over her head. And then my head drops, pressing kisses down her chest, over the cotton of her bra.
Down.
I hook my fingers into her waistband, and she lifts up her hips in silent acquiescence. I peel her trousers and her underwear off at the same time, slowly revealing her to me, inch by inch.
“Stasi,” I breathe. She watches me, her eyes dark and amber in the light. As I shift her, nudging her to sit on the keys. And then I spread her open, hooking her legs over my shoulders.
When I drop my head to her slit, laving it with my tongue in lazy strokes, she jolts in my hands with a moan. The sound blends into the sound of the piano beneath her as I find her nub, flicking it with my tongue, nipping it gently with my teeth as her toes curl against my back.
“You taste like caramel.” I look up at her, her hair damp and trailing over my piano, her freckled skin so soft beneath my hands that I have the urge to pinch myself. “I dreamed of you here, Stasi. Coming apart for me.”
I bury my face into her again, unable to get enough of her as she pushes herself into me, demanding more.
So I give it to her. Harder, my tongue sliding into her until I can’t get any closer. I move it inside her and she jerks around me, her fists tightening in my hair.
“Kit.”
The sound of her cries is better than any melody I could possibly dream of.
When she convulses around me, I drink her up, sucking every fucking drop I can from her pussy until my face is fucking covered in her. Still not enough.
She sits up, and I suck in a breath as her hand drops down to my trousers. I’m swollen, so fucking hard for her, and she squeezes my cock lightly, drawing a hiss from my lips.
“Off,” she says, her voice husky. Her fingers undo the zip of my jeans, and I stand, shoving them down before she slides off the keys and onto my lap, hot and bare and wet and so impossibly perfect that I groan into her shoulder. “I’m going to come before I’m even inside you.”
She presses her lips to my cheek. My neck, moving down, tasting me. “Then we’d better hurry up.”
Our movements are jerky as she lifts herself up, and I line my cock against her entrance. Her head falls back as she sinks down, inch by inch.
I want to watch her pussy, watch her swallow me up. I want to pin her against the fucking piano and take her hard.
But I don’t want to hurt her, not when she was a virgin until very recently. So I suck in a breath and stay where I am, watching her face as she finds her rhythm. Her hesitant movements are so fucking sexy, the hitch in her breathing a song as she moves up and down. My hands slide to her bare back, holding her to me as she buries her face in my neck.
“Jesus, Stasi,” I rasp, as she twists her hips. “You feel fucking perfect, baby. So fucking perfect on my cock.”
She clenches against me. “Say it again.”
“Fucking perfect,” I repeat. One hand moves to the back of her head, and I lift her slightly so I can push back into her, rolling my hips against hers. “Such a perfect, hot, wet pussy, taking my cock like such a good girl.”
She buries her moan in my neck, her hands curling around my neck and gripping tightly.
“I’ll never get enough of this,” I grunt, speeding up. The sweet little noises rippling from her throat spur me on, making me move faster, losing fucking control as I buck my hips and she takes it, her cries like music as they ring out into the air, entwined with the sound of our fucking. “Never get enough of your hot little cunt gripping me.”
She convulses around me, her muscles contracting and pulling me impossibly deeper as she screams out her release and I follow it with a roar, jetting hot pulses of release into her. Marking her from the inside. Savage satisfaction fills me as I rest her back on the piano, slowly pulling out and watching my release run out of her pussy.
“Your piano—,” she shifts as if to get up, but I stop her. My fingers drop down, circling her entrance, gathering up my seed and smearing it over her cunt.
“What a mess,” I say softly. Her eyes fly to mine. “We’ll need to clean it up.”
And I gather more of it up in my fingers, stroking her pussy before I raise my fingers to her lips. “Lick, Stasi. Taste what you fucking do to me.”
Her cheeks flood with scarlet, but she leans forward, her lips rounding as she tentatively licks my fingers. Slowly, giving her time to pull away, I push them into her mouth. “Suck, baby.”
The hot, sucking sounds shoot straight to my dick. I gather up more, feeding it to her, and something hot swoops low in my stomach as she takes it from my fingers, her eyes on mine as she takes everything that I give her.
“You like that.” My voice rumbles with satisfaction when she nods. “You like the taste of cum, Stasi?”
She licks her lips. “Maybe.”
“Good,” I say. She gasps when I line myself up, sliding back into her heat with a low groan. “Because I’m looking forward to feeding you again.”
