I watch as Story builds herself up, dabbing her mouth with the napkin before jabbing her fork into her mashed potatoes. Cutting her eyes to Killian, she asks, “Can you please pass the salt?”
Ah, there it is.
The words are perfectly polite, but the tone is all low and cutting, as if he’s been holding the salt hostage just to inconvenience us all.
Killian doesn’t even look up from his plate when he reaches toward the salt, and in one quick snap of his wrist, flicks it down the table. She flings a hand out to catch it, mouth pressing into a tight, angry line as she glowers at him.
“Thanks,” she drawls, giving the salt a violent shake over her potatoes.
Rath and I share a long-suffering look.
Jesus, dinners in their old house must have been straight up theater.
It’s been like this now for three days. I figured with us heading back to classes and everything, it’d settle down. We’re busy and overbooked, and have way too much to worry about to indulge all this petty, bullshit squabbling, but here we are, watching Killian shoot daggers at her with his eyes the second she looks away.
The way Killian tells it, Story had disrespected him, left him to stew in it, and then slapped him in the face when he confronted her. The way Story tells it, she was just minding her own business when Killian stormed in and went into full caveman mode. They both had the marks to prove it—Killian’s red cheek, Story’s bruised upper arms, and most of all, the tension that’s been sparking between them since.
Rath hasn’t been helping. “You know, this is the first time I’ve really felt like I was living with siblings.”
Story’s head snaps up. “We are not siblings!”
Desperate to go one meal without their bickering, I try, “I saw the new Princess today.”
Rath hums, sounding only halfway interested as he scrolls down his phone. “She hot?”
“Naturally.” Not that it would have mattered. The Princes struck out with that one girl—Autumn, I think her name was—so they forfeited the chance to cherry-pick. “Some Phi Nu guys in my stats class were taking bets on how long it’d take to put a baby in her. I’m in five Gs deep for it happening before the new year.”
Rath sends me a smirk. “Ballsy, considering they don’t have any.”
“It’s the desperation,” I explain, casually sliding my salad toward Story. She looks into the bowl, nose wrinkling, but stabs her fork into a tomato. “I saw one of the new Princes nailing her in the parking lot, bent right over in his back seat. This batch has initiative.”
Rath snorts. “Gotta respect a work ethic.”
I point my fork at him. “Especially when that work ethic involves pussy.”
“Do you really have to talk about this now? We’re eating.” Story roots around the salad distractedly, but then pauses, glancing up at me with a frown. “Wait. Did you, like… watch?”
I hold her stare. “Of course I watched. He was railing her right there, for all to see. I’m only human.” When her frown deepens, I reach over to caress her cheek, tucking her hair behind an ear. “It’s just like watching porn, sweetheart. It means nothing.” The words are true, but even I know they’re kind of bullshit. Truthfully, the Prince and his Princess weren’t super compelling, it’s just that this is the longest I’ve gone without pussy since Gen. It was the pathetic equivalent of an Oliver Twist character, standing out in the snow, gazing longingly into a window as the family inside enjoys a warm, hearty meal.
Jesus Christ, my dick is starving.
She looks like she wants to argue, but before she can, Killian finally speaks.
“So we can’t even watch other people fucking now?” His bitter gaze fixes on her, jaw twitching.
Her expression snaps into a scowl faster than I can parse it. “We can all watch you go fuck yourself.”
Rath stands, rubbing his temple. “Okay, I’m out. Your sibling drama is giving me a goddamn migraine.”
“We’re not siblings!”
That might have been really convincing, except for the way it’s said by both of them, in the most pitch perfect unison that even my twin sisters couldn’t hope to be so in sync.
An hour later, Rath is upstairs on the piano, I’m in the library typing out a paper for psych class, and Killer and Story are still going at it. I can hear them downstairs and it’s seriously fucking with my concentration. It gets to a point where I just can’t take it anymore. Slamming my laptop shut, I storm out of the library and down the stairs, following their voices into the den.
“It’s the only Ticonderoga in the house! I need it for my homework!”
“It’s mine.”
I try to figure out what the hell they’re talking about, but when I see the yellow stick in Killian’s hand, it all clicks. “You’re fighting over a pencil?” I ask, unable to hide my bewilderment and annoyance. “A fucking fifteen cent pencil?”
Story throws her hands up. “It’s the best kind of pencil, and I specifically bought it at the bookstore today.”
“Prove it,” Killian sneers, holding it up in a taunting manner. “Prove that you bought this pencil, and maybe I’ll give it back to you.”
Story’s hand balls up into a fist, and Killian holds the pencil like a weapon. Since our names being featured in a headline about a grisly pencil stabbing doesn’t strike me as beneficial, I march up, snagging the pencil out of the air.
“Hey!” they both shout. Apparently pissed I didn’t let the Forsyth Pencil Massacre take place in our living room.
I snap the pencil in two and toss a piece at each of them. Killian instinctively catches his. Story’s bounces off her chest and falls to the ground. I glare at my best friend. “What the fuck is this about, and don’t you dare tell me it’s about a pencil. Lizzy and Izzy act more mature than this.” When he just keeps seething, throwing me a dark look, I shake my head. “We can’t afford this right now. If you’ve got something to say to her, spit it out!”
“The agreement,” he grinds out, fists clenching, “was that we follow her ‘parameters’ and she’d keep belonging to us. That means I still have a say!”
“Jesus titty-fucking Christ,” I mutter, squeezing the bridge of my nose. Suddenly, I can relate to Rath’s migraine issues. “It’s not that hard to please a woman, Killer. Did you even think to butter her up a bit? To ask for something nicely? No, because you’re too busy nursing a grudge for something she had no way of knowing would upset you this much.”
I can see him really revving up now, that vein in his neck bulging. “After everything we’ve done to keep her included, she just decides unilaterally to—”
Cutting him off, I wearily snark, “Yes, you had some good points to make about the day at the coffee shop—which Rath and I have heard, at length, daily—and I’m sure you delivered them to her in a calm, rational, reasonable way.” Narrowing my eyes, I add, “I saw the bruises. You ever wonder why she keeps shutting you out? Newsflash, Einstein: It’s because you’re a controlling asshole. And this is coming from me!” I say it like the whole damn world has gone crazy, and it’s possible it has. Story’s quiet snort takes me by surprise, but even though my lips twitch against my will, I don’t find it funny. This whole thing is twisted. “I mean, goddamn, Killer, maybe she just wants to be sure when she lets you in, she can still have space for herself. Do you think she feels like she has space when you’re pacing outside her fucking door every night? Shit, sometimes I want to shut the laptop on you, too.”
His eyes harden, head shaking vehemently. “She knew exactly what shutting that laptop would do.”
I throw my hands up, palms out. “I’m sorry. Are we still pretending this is about the laptop and not the fact the two of you are psychotically horny for one another?”
“What?!” Story sputters, head snapping back. “You’re delusional!”
I give her a long look. “Oh, please. This vicious cycle has been spinning since the day you stepped in here. Maybe sooner.” Like I’m speaking to a small child, I explain, “You pushing him to the brink of breaking is the biggest flirt in the Story Austin handbook. You do this shit constantly. Look at the two of you!” I gesture between them. To the tension. The sparks. The fury and the pure sex in the way they glare at each other. “You’re practically begging him to throw you up against a wall and fuck your brains out. You like it! It’s just not working this time, because you both know he can’t control himself. Not now. Not when he’s losing it this badly.”
Slowly, she shakes her head. “What are you even talking about?”
“I’m talking about the answer to all of this,” I say, thrusting a finger at Killer. “He’s been off the field for over a month. A month, Story. You know what he does when he’s pissed off and losing it like this?” I can see her working it out, outraged disbelief dawning in her features. “He either takes it to the field or he fucks it out of his system. Given he’s still benched from the gunshot wound, plus the parameters of the contract you set, he can’t do either of those things, now, can he?” Before that fuming argument in her eyes can manifest itself, I stop her. “Don’t. You’re obviously the horniest person in this house.”
“I am not!” she hotly insists, shoulders snapping back. “You’re completely out of your mind if you think I want this jerk anywhere—”
I approach her, casually shoving my hand down the front of her pants. Her words cut off with a strangled yelp, but even though she tries to lurch away, she doesn’t get far. I curl an arm around her waist and jam my hand between her legs, raising an eyebrow. “Not horny, huh? Because your pussy is drenched.” She’s close enough now that I can see the blush rising on her cheeks. Part of it might be embarrassment, and some may be indignation, but the rest is all about the way my fingers feel sliding through her folds. I let myself indulge a bit, leaning in to whisper against her ear. “Want Killer to fuck you, sweetheart?”
“N-no,” she stutters, clearly struggling to keep the resentment in her voice.
It wouldn’t be this hard to convince her if she really did. She’s stubborn, but she’s also reckless. This is why I think to ask, “Why not? You want him. I know you do.” There’s a pause as she breathes, and I use it to stroke her, spreading her wetness over her clit.
“He’d be…” Her hand curls into my shirt, voice pitched to a rough whisper. “He’ll be mean.”
Humming, I glance over my shoulder to witness the look on Killian’s face. All the tightness in his jaw has disappeared, replaced with a slack, dazed expression. God. He really is clueless. “Are you afraid he’ll be too rough?”
At her small, timid nod, Killian’s jaw clicks shut. “I’ll be rough?!” he exclaims, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Me? You’re the one who hit me! And the other night with Rath, you were—”
“Shut up,” I bark. Turning to Story, I touch her chin, forcing her gaze to mine. “What if I don’t let him? Hm?” I brush my lips over her warm cheek, asking, “What if I was here to make sure you’re safe?”
The thing about Killer is that he never learned the right way to be with a woman. A long string of hookers, pre-game bimbos, and unconscious girls has completely stunted this guy. He doesn’t like having to work for it—having to consider someone else. For her, I’m betting he’d try, but he wouldn’t know where to start.
I know the suggestion probably irks him, so the utter silence coming from behind me is a testament to how badly he must want it. “You know I wouldn’t let him hurt you,” I say, pressing my thumb into her swollen clit. Her fingers tighten in my shirt. “Not unless you like it. You do, don’t you? Sometimes you like it.”
Her throat bobs with a hard swallow, eyes falling closed. “Sometimes,” she breathes. “A little.”
“Okay.” That, we can work with. Still, when I take my hand out of her pants, she sort of… tips over, chasing it. I steady her, turning us around to Killian.
He looks unimpressed. “What, you’re going to be our sex referee?”
“You’re too good for it?” Calmly, I lay out the options. “Because you could stay here and fuck this out of your systems like adults, or you can go back to bickering all the time and jacking your dick in an empty bed. Your call.”
Killer was never going to turn this down, and he doesn’t bother making noises about it now. He just looks away, inhaling hard. “Fine,” he grinds out, nostrils flaring.
Oh yeah, I’m sure this is such a burden. Killian Payne is a giver.
I slide behind Story, leaning down to say, “Go kiss him.”
She stiffens beneath the hands I’m resting on her shoulders, moving jerkily when I give her a nudge. She approaches him stiffly, looking anywhere but at his face. He’s not much better, flexing his fists and pulling himself to his full height. Always trying to intimidate. There’s a second where she stops in front of him but no one makes a move, and I’m rolling my eyes because I can be a sex referee, but if they need help kissing, then I might as well just fuck her myself.
I know it’s bad when Killer makes the first move, puffing this sharp, irritated breath before ducking down to smash their mouths together. He raises a hand and fists the back of her hair, yanking her head back.
I step in, tugging his wrist away. “Easy, easy. You don’t have to hold her down. She’s a sure thing, brother.”
So he abandons her hair just to grasp at her ass, yanking her up against his body. From this vantage, I can see the way he’s kissing her. It’s so aggressive and imposing that I can’t even catch a peek of tongue. He’s just absolutely dominating her mouth. Because of this proximity, I can see the exact moment he pulls back, nipping hard at her lip.
She hisses, jolting away. “Ow! He bit me!”
Killian licks the sharp point of his canine tooth, eyes dark and hard. “Oops.”
I shove his shoulder. “Unnecessary roughness, dickwad. I think that deserves a penalty.”
“So help me god,” Killian says, rolling his eyes heavenward, “if you keep on with the referee stuff, I’m going to strangle you with the cord of a whistle.”
Ignoring him, I push my hands under Story’s shirt, working it off. She lifts her arms, letting me slide it away, and when I undo the clasp on her bra, Killian’s mouth loses some of that arrogant slant. His eyes drop, taking in her soft, bare tits. I’m the one to touch them, though. I stand behind her and cover them with my palms, feeling the pebble of her nipples as I massage.
She looks enticing like this, standing out here in the open. I let Killer watch as I squeeze her tits, feeling my cock harden at the way we must look. “You’re going to come with me over here.” I guide her to the couch, pulling her down in my lap, the pressure of her ass against my cock making me twitch. “And you,” I say to Killian, “are going to lick her twat until she’s nonverbal.”
He watches with this dumb expression on his face as I carefully slide Story’s pants down her legs, exposing her fully. I know Killer and Rath think I must be going crazy, not having gotten any in so long. They’re right, of course, but I was honest before. Story is a sure thing. I know she is.
She’s still shaving her pussy.
It’s nowhere in the new contract. She’s free to keep her pussy any way she likes it, but she’s kept it the way we like it. Yeah, I’m going to get mine. I can be patient.
Probably.
“What are you waiting for?” I ask him, pulling her hair to the side and pressing a kiss into the soft spot below her ear. I watch as he takes her in, the naked swath of soft, supple flesh waiting in my lap. I don’t know if Story gets as much out of being watched as I do, but I know when she’s hamming it up, and when she tilts her head, the writhe of her hips pulling a quiet grunt from my throat, I know her eyes are on her brother. Teasing.
Brows crouched low, he stalks over, not looking happy about it. He can’t lie to me, though. I can see the tent in his jeans and the dark glint in his eyes.
Still, Story takes a little warming up.
She has her knees pressed together, and even though she’s leaning against my chest, she still feels a little too rigid. I run my palms over her tits, trying to get her to relax, or barring that, horny enough to stop caring. She releases a slow breath and tips her head back on my shoulder, apparently committed to not watching his approach.
“Come on,” I whisper, walking my fingers down her flat belly. “Spread your legs for Killer, sweetheart.”
“If he bites me,” she says, clenching up.
I shush her, parting her thighs. “He wouldn’t dare,” I assure, giving her earlobe a friendly nip. “I’d cut his balls off, and he knows it.”
The look Killer gives me says he’d like to see me try, but he drops to his knees, anyway. I pull her legs apart, undaunted by the stiffening of her tendons and muscles, and hook her calves around my own. I don’t need to wonder what she looks like. I see it reflected in Killian’s reaction, his eyes dropping to her pussy, mouth parting at the sight of her, all spread and ready.
His fingers press divots into the soft skin of her thigh when he ducks in, licking a hard path up her pussy with the flat of his tongue. Story jolts at the contact but instantly melts, closing her eyes.
“Oh,” is shuddered out on her exhale.
“No, no, no,” I say, smoothing her hair back from her forehead. “I want you to look. You’ve got him on his knees, between your legs. Watch him eat your pussy.” I’ve always wondered if it’s the same for girls, the surge of power a guy feels when he’s getting his cock sucked. So I observe the knit in her brow when she opens her eyes, watching Killian’s mouth work between her legs. It’s probably not the same—she can’t exactly choke him on it—but it still makes her lips fall apart, hips bucking up.
Killer doesn’t give a lot of head.
He’s never said as much. It’s just that I can tell by what he’s doing—the lack of technique—that I’m working with a novice. No shocker or anything. The word ‘generous’ does not come to mind when I think of Killian and sex, and it doesn’t apply now. He’s tonguing her with no rhyme or reason, dipping low to prod at her entrance. If anything, he seems like he’s just impatient to get to the good stuff.
To be fair, Story doesn’t exactly look put out about it. Her chest rises and falls with these short, hitched breaths, and her hands might be clamped around my forearms, but her hips keep wriggling, trying to direct the pressure where she most needs it. She’s clearly used to futilely asking for things he refuses to give. Killian ignores the obvious cues, digging his fingertips deeper into her flesh as he holds her still.
Wincing, I reach down and take him by the hair, directing him higher. “You have to learn to listen, Killer. She’s telling you where to go.”
He gives me an irate glare, which is hilarious given that he doesn’t miss a beat, tongue flicking at her clit. Story’s fingers tighten around my arms, back arching as her lip gets caught between her teeth.
“You like that, sweetheart?” When she nods, I glance my knuckles over her nipple, saying, “Don’t tell me. Tell him.” If Killer needs to learn to listen, then maybe Story needs to learn to talk. Smoke signals have better communication than these two.
Exhaling shakily, she finally opens her eyes, dropping her gaze to him. He’s staring back at her, eyes still sharp with animosity. But then, in this soft, hushed voice, she says, “Oh, god, that feels good,” and just like that, all the sharpness in his stare melts away.
He closes his lips over her at the praise—oh, yeah, he’s really getting into it now—but it isn’t until I watch his fingers ease up on her thighs, skating up to feel her tits, that I relax. Story’s feet hook around my calves, using leverage to lift her hips into the things he’s doing with his mouth. When he pulls away to prod her clit with the pointed tip of his tongue, I reach down with both hands, spreading her lips apart for him, wide and obscene. He makes a gruff noise and cups the backs of her thighs, really getting in there.
See?
Teamwork makes the dream work.
Story whimpers deep in her throat as Killer assaults her clit with his tongue, thighs flexing rhythmically like she just can’t help it. I watch her face, the way her brows furrow as she loses herself, mouth hanging open on deep, gulping breaths.
“I bet you taste good,” I whisper against her ear. “She getting nice and wet for you, Killer? How sweet is that pussy?” He rumbles in response, making her thighs tremble. I pry one of her hands from my arm and guide it to his head, making her touch him.
Grabbing blindly, she knits her fingers into his hair, toes curling. “Killian.” It’s said in this long, soft whine that makes his gaze bolt right up, and I know instantly what’s going through his head.
Killer lurches up, all stunned and frantic as he claws at his fly.
But I stop him. “Keep going.”
He freezes, nostrils flaring wide as he gestures to her pussy. “But she’s—”
“Still verbal,” I note, nodding toward her spread cunt. “Job’s not finished.”
He snaps his mouth shut, glowering mutely as he gets back to his knees. Story’s forehead is already damp with sweat when I ease her head back to my shoulder, soothing her.
“You want to come, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” she gasps, Killian getting back to work. She puts her hand back in his hair, directing him lower, and then higher, and then lower. Seems she enjoys a little of everything, teeth digging into her bottom lip as she lets loose a strangled cry. At some point, Killian grows more determined than impatient, a challenge to be conquered, and he really starts throwing his back into it, lifting her up to fuck her with his tongue before rising to blast her clit. I keep her spread and ready for each return, not daring to bring her off myself.
Eventually, she really does go nonverbal.
She trembles, head thrown back as she bucks, panting, and I know she’s close when she finally pries her eyes open to look down at him.
Story is so pretty when she comes.
First, her eyes get all wide like she can’t believe what’s happening, even though we’ve been building toward it for ten minutes. Then, when the first shudder hits her, she lets out this series of nonsensical fricatives, pouring from her throat like she can’t help it. She gives this delicate little quiver, and I can just imagine what it’d feel like clenching around my dick.
The second the muscles in her thighs go lax, head collapsing back, Killian is tearing off his shirt. He runs it over the mess she’s made on his face, but it’s done hastily, an afterthought to the way he’s shoving his jeans down his thighs, hard cock springing free.
I can tell from the crazed, almost violent sharpness in his eyes that he wants nothing more than to pummel right into her.
But the second he curls close, looming over us like a horny, sex-crazed giant, I swat his hand away from his cock. “Start slow,” I explain at his outraged expression, shamelessly grabbing his dick and guiding it to her entrance. “She’s probably still sensitive. Jesus, dude, look at her. You’d be fucking her like a rag doll.”
“And?” he replies, and okay. Yeah. I doubt that’s really a turnoff, but he grits his teeth and lets me line him up, bracing his hands on the couch beside our heads. Waiting until I give him a nod, he gives his hips a little pointed jab. I don’t need to feel or see his cock slotting into her to know she’s taking him in. She arches her back, pushing her tits out, and I let Killer get a little deeper, cognizant of the knot of twitching muscle at the back of his jaw.
“Fuck,” he grits out, digging his fingers into the upholstery. “Fuck, she’s tight.”
“Yeah?” My dick gives an eager twitch, and I watch her eyes grow more alert with every slow, agonizing inch he sinks into her. She shifts around, hands hooking around his biceps, and it makes her ass grind into my dick. Hard as fucking nails here.
Killer’s cock is just as thick as the rest of him, and from the whine in her throat and the strain around his eyes, I’m betting it’s a nice stretch. Gently, I shush her. “You’re taking his cock so good, sweetheart. Almost there. Then he’s going to give you a second, okay?”
When he finally bottoms out, Killian twists his head to wipe the sweat from his brow, but his lips catch the fingers she has clamped around the muscle. For a moment, he just rests there, feeling her against his lips, eyes sliding closed.
When she wiggles her hips, making these restless, hitched breaths, I speak. “Come on, Killer, show our Lady how good you can be.” Giving him a pointed look, I add, “Show her you can be with her without making it hurt.”
He drags his hips back before fucking into her, nice and slow. Killian’s good at exercising every muscle except restraint, and I see him grappling with it now, hunger rippling through him with every flex of his hips. Story’s still boneless and breathless, but she’s present in the moment, watching him with her lip trapped between her teeth.
Faintly, she says, “I can take… more.”
This time, when Killian kisses her, he holds back, lets her tongue meet his in the middle, giving me a peek of it all, a slick tangle of pink joining their mouths. Damn, they look good together. Her thighs cradle his powerful hips like they were made for it, the dark ink of his tattoos a stark contrast to her porcelain skin. The cords of his muscles shift with every thrust, dwarfing her slender, delicate arms. They’re hard and soft, leather and satin, and I can’t help but move with their rhythm, indulging in the friction against my cock.
God, if Killer only realized how lucky he was.
But when she breaks away to gulp in a breath, wrenching her head to the side, her eyes zero in on something and she jerks her gaze away, back stiffening.
The tattoo on his arm.
Rath mentioned she wasn’t aware it was a tattoo of her. Apparently, she’d asked about it, in a roundabout sort of way, but Killer’s too much of a pussy to own up to it.
That’s only one of the many and varied things I’m burning to spell out. It’s then, as they’re lost in the zenith of their kiss and the rock of their bodies, that I put my lips to Story’s ear. “Do you have any idea how much this guy loves you?”
That’s the thick of it, anyway.
Killian rests his forehead against hers, but his face is set into a deep, sharp frown. “Don’t.” He won’t even open his eyes to catch her slow blinking reaction.
I go on, “He can’t help it. It makes him crazy. You know Killer can’t do anything by halves—least of all want you.”
“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, snapping his hips hard into Story. It pushes her back against me like a punch.
For the sake of her small, startled cry, I change tacks. “You didn’t mean to upset him, did you?”
She’s still staring at Killer, expression lost, when she breathes, “No.”
“And you’re sorry, aren’t you?” Unable to help myself, I curl my palm around the inside of her thigh, trapped between them as he pistons his hips, feeling how the two of them meet. “You know he just wants to protect you. Make sure you’re safe?”
Nodding, she reaches up to touch his rough, stubbled jaw. “I know.” Killian shudders against the tenderness of the gesture, and Story quietly confesses, “I wasn’t thinking.”
“And Killer,” I continue, easing my fingers up toward her clit. “You overreacted. You know you did.” He makes a curt, gruff sound as I press my fingers into her clit. “Tell her.”
His reply is as mindless as the way he’s fucking into her, eyes glued to her mouth. “I did.”
“There, see?” There’s plenty more to be said, but it’s going to take a lot more than one supervised fuck to cover Killer’s massive, throbbing abandonment issues. “Now fuck like you mean it. You’ve been walking around here wanting each other for god only knows how long. Doesn’t it feel good?”
Story responds by grabbing Killian by the hair and hauling him into a long, breathless kiss. Killian reaches down to roughly palm at her tit, grunting as his rhythm ratchets up. Finally, I just let myself enjoy the sight of them. The way she feels against me. The pulse of them fucking right into my body—against the hand that’s still working Story’s swollen clit. My balls ache with how badly I want to be him, but it’s almost good enough to just watch. To see the way he loses control in a different sense. The gentle way he looks at her between obscene, rough kisses. The swell of her slender throat as she struggles to control her cries. I don’t think I really understood them until right now, witnessing the turbulence of their affection for one another. It’s a fine-edged blade that’s too used to cutting.
Killian is proof that it’s possible to want someone too much. “Look at me,” he demands, voice growing as ragged and deep as the pointed punches of his hips. Story blinks her eyes open, and he slams hard into the cradle of her thighs. “This is mine.”
I wonder if she knows he’s not even talking about her pussy. He’s talking about the current that flows between them, always hot enough to burn. The way he can’t look at her sometimes. The sight of her like this, barely coherent but so fucking rapt. He’s talking about that sweet, vulnerable thing in her eyes as she gazes up at him, and the way she touches his cheek when she realizes she can’t shut him out.
Not from this.
“Show me, big brother.”
And then I watch as he unlocks his own door, letting her watch him come apart. It all makes a sad sort of sense then. Killer’s never wanted her to see how much he feels. It’s no wonder he prefers fucking her when she’s sleeping, because this?
There’s no hiding the raw, halfway wounded sound he makes as he comes. I can barely make out the curse he spits into her red, abused mouth, because it’s just as gnarled as his breaths. Story writhes between us, making a sound that’s all at once satisfied and frustrated, and I can take a guess why.
“Is he filling you up, sweetheart?” I press the question into her temple so I can feel her restless nod. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get what you need.” It takes Killian a long moment to peel himself away, red-faced and huffing as he captures her mouth, drawing out the vestiges of that connection that’s still got him gooey-eyed and uncomfortably soft.
When he finally does, it’s possible he collapses on the couch beside us, but I’m too busy burying two fingers in her cunt to notice. “Fuck, I can feel him in there. So wet. You want to see?”
She looks absolutely wrecked, pupils blown wide, flushed, chest heaving.
When she nods, I doubt she even knows what she’s agreeing to. But when I slip my fingers out of her pussy, pressing them to her lips, she takes them in, tasting what she and Killian are like together. It’s one of the best things about Story—how nasty she’s willing to get. She probably doesn’t even mean to bat her eyelashes at me, watching me with glazed, heavy eyes as I feed her the mingled taste of their obsessions for one another.
I have to know.
Grabbing her chin, I wrench her face to mine, licking into the crease of her lips. They’re sweet and bitter, her slick tongue pushing the taste into my mouth. Whatever threads of control I’ve had are rapidly breaking, and the whine she makes into my mouth isn’t helping.
Her answer when I ask, “You need some more?” demolishes it entirely.
“Please,” she whimpers, guiding my hand back to her center.
It’s only then that I notice Killian really has collapsed beside us, and only because I’m lifting her, turning to pour her into his lap this time. It feels right, arranging her there against his chest, pushing her knees to straddle him, watching as he just…takes her, folding her into him.
Frantically, I unbutton my pants and shove them down, getting my aching dick out. She looks tired and strung out as she rests her cheek on his shoulder, but when I grab her hips, hiking her ass up, she’s quick to comply, weak legs struggling to get her knees underneath her.
The noise she makes when I thrust into her is a gasp of surprise, followed by a mewl of approval.
“Hold her,” I tell Killian, who lazily pushes his fingers into her hair and cradles her against his body. I fuck her, hips pounding hard into her ass. It’s just as tight as Killian said. Only her pussy is fucking sloppy wet now, filled with his come. She reaches back to touch me, her fingertips skating over my thigh as I hammer into her. This isn’t like it was with Killian. I don’t need to be taught when to be gentle and accommodating. I fuck her hard and fast, yanking her hips into mine with every thrust, and all she can do is hang on to Killer and ride it out, burying her sharp cries into his neck. When I glance at the mirror over the drink cart, I see a man possessed, still clothed, strung tight and ready to snap.
“Damn, Tris,” Killian mutters, watching as he idly strokes his fingertips through her hair. “Look like you’re about to detonate. Should jack off more.”
I huff, already so close I can feel my balls start to tingle. “Get her off,” I grind out. “Now.”
Killian reaches between them to do just that, and whatever he’s doing with her clit is making her clench up around me, a rhythmic pulse that just drives me faster and harder.
“Don’t stop,” she’s saying, abandoning Killian’s arm to clutch at the back of the couch.
It takes everything in me to wait until she finally seizes, shoulders jerking with a delicate shudder as she comes apart around me. When she does, Killer speaks, his words hazy and indistinct, obscured by the rush of blood in my ears.
“Come on, Tris. Make her yours.”
I let go, slamming hard into her pussy. For a white-hot second, that’s all I can think about—adding my release to Killian’s inside her, cock pumping her full, making her pussy mine.
Making it ours.
“How’s that feel, little sister?” Killian is saying, holding her by the hips. “Having us both inside? Knowing you’re ours?”
“Full,” she answers, panting. “Feel so full.”
She drops her head to Killian’s shoulder and his eyes meet mine. The moment is uniquely intimate—the two of us claiming her, filling her up, making her fall apart. We’ve always been brothers, we’ve always shared, but it’s never been like this, and at the same time the warmth spreading across my chest tells me it was always going to lead to this.
I pull out and drop to the seat next to them, muscles burning in the best of ways. Fuck, but it’s been a long time since I indulged in a nice, hard fuck. Bonelessly, I take off my shirt, fully intending to clean Story up with it.
But Killian is already pushing the come back up her thighs.
He gathers it up, burying it back into her pussy with two fat fingers, and then brings them back to his mouth to lick them clean. My dick gives a feeble, satisfied twitch at the sight. She hums as he does it, curling into his lap, but reaches out to flop a hand on my chest, giving it a badly coordinated stroke.
My head lolls over, finally satiated, and I realize Killian’s staring at me. “What?”
“That whole sex referee thing was a joke, but you’re actually pretty good at it.”
“Well,” I reason, watching him casually finger-fuck our come back into his sister. “I know a thing or two about watching people fuck.”
Rath and Killer don’t really get my thing for watching and being watched, but that’s the only time humanity makes sense to me. I’m not talking about fake, over-acted porn, either. I’m talking about two people moving together, so open with it they barely notice anything else. It’s why a glance in the mirror, mid-fuck, makes my balls draw up.
Profoundly, I mutter, “I fuck, therefore I am.”
Story snorts.
Knowing my exhaustion probably shines through in my smirk, I lift her hand to my mouth and kiss her knuckles. “Just promise me that the next time you decide to go pistols at dawn over a pencil, you’ll just fuck it out instead.”
Killian lifts his fist, and I bump it with my own. These two will probably never stop fighting—they are siblings, after all—but at least now I know the best way to get them to shut the fuck up is a good, old-fashioned dicking down.
