Briony
Grabbing a kitchen towel, I quickly wipe myself as clean as I can, careful to wash the fresh cut on my thigh by wetting the washcloth to remove the smeared blood down my inner thigh.
My body is still vibrating in the aftermath of my insanely electrifying orgasm as I make my way around the island to open the door. I’m light-headed and feeling entirely flushed while I look back to ensure Aero is hidden, as well as the knife and mess we made on the floor. If all goes as planned, we’ll have the church and community crumbling around this controversy in no time. Being the sacrificial lamb for the cause has never sounded more enticing.
Running my hands through my black, freshly fucked hair, I inhale deeply, attempting to calm my sudden nerves. Realization is hitting, and the weight of my impending actions is making my stomach twist into a knot.
When I open the door, Saint turns to face me on the porch, his hands in the pockets of his slacks, his crewcut hairstyle looking sharp as ever. His blue eyes are brighter than before, yet pinching tight in the corners as his full lips part. Those Westwood genes run deep and strong.
“Briony,” he whispers, taking a step closer, concern laced in his tone. “Are you alright?”
He approaches me at the door, his hand instinctively touching the side of my face, his thumb wiping under my eyes. It’s then I realize my mascara is still smeared down my face, giving the illusion I’ve been crying, not choking on his brother’s thick cock like I was only seconds ago.
I sniff, leaning my head into his hand. “No,” I say honestly. “I’m not.”
He quickly rushes into the house, closing the door behind him, and embraces me in his arms. A gentle caress finds my head, and he presses my cheek to his chest, his heart thumping within.
My tears fall freely as an unknown emotion takes over. I’m not sure if I’m just releasing pent-up tears after the intensity of the orgasm that just cycled through me or if I’m feeling the weight of unsuspecting guilt, but I get a strange pinch in my chest at the thought of what I’m about to do to this man.
My arms wrap around him again, seeking that brief glimpse of familiar comfort I gained at the school, and his arms follow suit as I melt in his hold.
“Come here,” he says tenderly, crouching.
His arms reach around to the back of my thighs where he picks up my wilted frame, my thighs circling his waist, and my arms lacing around his neck. I silently hiss at the friction against my fresh wound. Holding my limp body to his chest, one hand cradles my neck and the other gingerly cups underneath my skirt-covered bottom.
He carries me, walking us over to the couch in the living room to sit down with me on his lap, continuing our embrace.
“Shh.” He brushes his hand over my hair, combing it down my back. “It’s okay now. There’s no need to be scared. We’ll get everything sorted out, Briony. You’re safe with me. I’m here now.”
I lean back on his lap, wiping my eyes with the cuffs of my uniform shirt. He gazes at me with nothing but soft concern in his eyes while my world spins, knowing we are being watched closely.
“What would your father think of you being here, Saint?” The words fall from my lips before I can even attempt to withhold them.
Saint shifts in his seat beneath me, his hands resting softly on my outer thighs as he licks his lips.
“If I’m being completely honest,” he pauses, running a hand over his short blonde hair before wiping his palm down his face. “He wouldn’t like it.” His blue eyes find mine and I feel his sincerity. “At all.”
I stare back at him, looking for the obvious answer. Needing to see the truth written there that he’s one of them. He’s on their side. He isn’t like us. But my vision is cloudy and my mind is swirling, endless questions plaguing me.
It’s my naivety that’s loosening me, my control faltering before the presence of the establishment meant to end me. Then, as if Aero suddenly slipped into my head, I blink, and am reminded of the men who ruined him.
“And yet…you’re here,” I declare.
My fingers graze his exposed forearms, meeting the rolled-up cuffs of his uniform. I continue sliding my hands up and over his tight biceps, and his hips shift slightly beneath me. He clears his throat, flexing his jaw, clearly trying his hardest to keep it together, but my hands find the soft, warm flesh of his neck, and the raging pulse beneath it screams for more.
He sighs, dropping his head back against the couch, his eyes searching mine beneath heavy lids.
“I can’t stay away from you,” he admits. His hands find my thighs again, his thumbs sweeping just under the cotton of my skirt, toying with the idea of more. “Something about you draws something out of me. I just…” He shakes his head, looking down at where I’m sitting on his lap, then back up at me. “I just can’t place it.”
The sexual tension is palpable. Our hearts are both racing with the knowledge of how close our sexes are. A few layers of fabric, and the entire corrupt dynasty ends.
“I know what you mean, it’s like a chokehold,” I whisper, nibbling on the corner of my lip.
His eyes are drawn to it immediately, and his hand comes up, his thumb pulling my lip free of my teeth. I gasp at the sudden move, surprised by his action.
“Don’t do that,” he warns, his voice laced with something I can’t place.
My lashes flutter, understanding how it affects him. I see his jaw flex and his pupils dilate before me. It’s clear he can’t seem to control himself around the temptation that I am to him. I am his Satan and salvation, and this man can’t decide which road to take.
Instead, I lick my lips and flip the rest of my long, black hair behind me. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, the softest groan exhaling from his throat. His hands find my thighs again as his fingers indent my skin beneath the tights.
“I just…I just have this strong urge to taste you again,” I whisper, leaning forward ever so slightly to place my hands on the couch behind his head, my hips shifting over him in the process.
I can feel his cock lengthen beneath his slacks. He swallows, entirely aware of it, too.
“I’ve been wanting that, too,” he answers, gazing back at my lips as if imagining it. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it. That kiss.” He nods his head back. “This kitchen.”
His hand reaches up and cups the side of my face, his thumb stroking near my lips. Leaning into the embrace, I release a light hum from my throat. I turn my head and ever so softly wrap my lips around the tip of his thumb. I kiss it gently while his eyes stare intently with fascination. Opening my mouth, I suck on it before my tongue slips past my lips, gently licking up the side of it in a slow, seductive manner.
“It’s wrong of me to even proclaim.” His eyes flutter and his chest rises and falls between us. “But your tongue,” he says quietly. “It felt so good against mine. So warm and wet. Your mouth, so inviting.”
I’m hoping Aero is recording and not silently plotting out how to gut Saint from neck to balls as he discusses the details of our intimate kiss.
I shift my hips, rolling them slightly into his, my skirt tenting out so only my soaked panties remain sealed to his lap. I can feel Aero’s release still leaking out of me as I straddle his brother, and the thought has my body igniting with a heat that burns low in my belly.
It shouldn’t excite me how it does. I should feel bad. Guilty. Horribly reckless for my actions. And yet, all I can think about is how disturbingly aroused this makes me.
His other hand slowly slides up my thigh, over my tights, and his fingers finally graze the skin of my exposed ass. A breath of air leaves his parted lips.
Asses are his weakness. I know this much already. His hands have wandered slightly south before, and I’ve witnessed him correcting his behavior before he’s done something stupid. But here, in this house, all alone with his temptations…will his strength falter?
“I’ve thought about you, too. That kiss. This kitchen,” I admit shyly, pushing my limits. “Many times.” I bite the corner of my lip again. “In my bed. By myself.”
He stares blankly, as if in shock, clearly understanding the statement.
“I know it’s wrong, and it’s awful that my mind even goes there, but—”
“What were you imagining?” he interrupts abruptly.
I look down at his chest, absentmindedly toying with a button on his shirt, pretending to be embarrassed. “I imagined your arms around me, holding me safely. Protecting me. I imagined the warmth of your body surrounding me…behind me.” I swallow. “Above me.” I take a breath and continue in a soft, sensual tone. “I imagined the weight of you crashing down on me. Gentle hands, slowly exploring…”
I close my eyes as a breath escapes me. My hand comes up to my neck, my fingers trailing down between the buttons of my uniform.
“What else?” he says quickly, urging me on, his hips shifting slightly beneath me again.
“I imagined those fingers.” I open my eyes, dropping my hand from my neck to grip the wrist of his wandering hand.
Pulling it before me, I line our palms together between us, his eyes following my every move.
“Those strong, large hands wandering places they shouldn’t. Touching me where I’ve been taught not to touch, and making my body come alive in a way I’ve never known.”
Without warning, Saint’s palm drops from mine, and he grips my wrist. His fingers tighten around me with a painful squeeze, and his hard eyes lock onto mine. I gasp at the move, and his nostrils flare. I’m unsure of his intentions for the moment, but I assume he’s putting a stop to this, knowing he’s likely coming to his senses. But his grip softens, and he finally blinks, those lust-darkened eyes finding me again.
“Show me,” he demands.
My eyebrows raise at his words, surprise written all over my face.
“Show me what you did when you were alone and thought about me.”
He stands abruptly, causing me to gasp and clutch onto his neck. Gripping my bottom in his large palms, he walks with intent towards the staircase, somehow knowing exactly where to go.
It appears he’s found his loophole. His safety net. His gateway to committing these sexual acts that we’ve been told by our all-powerful God were unforgivable before marriage.
He can watch me all he wants, but his safety net has a hole. One I’ll surely wrap around his ankle to pull him into the depths of the dark deliverance to which I’ve succumbed.
