by Ace Gray
How did I explain what was about to happen? What dinner meant? I didn’t think mentioning we ate sushi off Deirdre’s naked body until my father fucked her with a sake bottle last time was a good way to start.
“My father doesn’t throw conventional dinner parties.” I blew out a deep breath. “This is a game theme, complete with hunting dogs.” I sneered on the last word.
“What does that matter?”
I swallowed the anxiety balled in my throat. I could force her. With a single bellow, I’d even have help. But I glanced back at the bathtub and held onto that moment. And last night in bed. This morning she’d almost kissed me again despite everything…
And I was going to fuck it all to hell again.
Show seemed better than tell so I walked into my bedroom, leaving her holding those small white pills. I pulled open one drawer. The shame of having done this before—a few times—had never hit me until now. Until I had to explain it to her. The leather and chain was heavier in my hand than before.
I stood behind her and twisted her toward the mirror. With her eyes fixed on my every move, I pushed her hair to the side and slid the stiff leather collar into place. My fingers quivered as I reached up to fasten the metal buckle.
She yelped.
I didn’t stop. Instead, I adjusted the band and let the chain leash fall between her cleavage, pressing the silk of her dress flat to her skin, highlighting the shape of her perfect breasts. The rise and fall of her chest picked up, shaking the metal where it hung.
My dick twitched against the soft fabric of my suit trousers. Her hint of fear made me even harder.
I reached up for her strap and her eyes met mine in the reflection. She knew. Her big, wide, naive sea glass eyes, knew what I was about to do. And she could have protested—for now anyway. She could have slapped me again or kneed me in the crotch. But she didn’t. Ever so slowly, I slid her straps down. Her creamy skin was more inviting than the field of flowers I’d been imagining earlier, inspired by her dress. Her pert rose nipples were better than the first buds of spring. Every inch of her was so taut but somehow stayed soft. The shape and sway of her hips was mouthwatering, and her legs…
“They’re going to see?” Her voice cracked.
“Yes.”
“I’m the hunting dog.” She folded in on herself.
“Yes.”
“Please don’t make me.”
“It’s not my choice,” I said softly. “And even if it was, I don’t think I’d fight this.” I stroked my fingers down the valley of her body beside where the leash rested.
Tears sprung up in the corners of her eyes, the twinkle coming back to brighten up the beauty of her face. “Fuck you,” she spat.
“Maybe one of these days,” I answered as I pushed her pill-cradling palm toward her mouth and helped her kill a little of the pain the only way I knew how.
What the actual fuck?
The pain had been constant. Each breath, each swallow. And then it just wasn’t. The leather was tight against my throat, but the most appropriate word was secure. And for a moment that’s what I felt. Safe. And wanted. When Brye’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared as he undressed me, I wanted him too.
But now I didn’t know what I wanted. I barely knew who I was.
I wasn’t high. Or I didn’t think I was. Not like they showed in the movies or wrote about in books. The paintings didn’t come to life and I wasn’t on my own personal rocket ship. I was just Jell-O. And though anxiety and fear were floating just above me, they were out of reach.
“Did you drug me?” I asked both mystified and giggly.
Brye’s deep, husky chuckle rumbled my bones.
“Yeah, I did.” He adjusted his tie and my fingers ached to replace his, but they simply melted off my hands instead. “Tonight’s gonna go a whole lot better if you can’t feel a thing.”
That same sorrowful chaos that had attracted me to him held me rapt again. Whoa. I couldn’t tell if I’d said the word or not. I couldn’t tell if my lips were still there or not. Did pudding have lips?
“I don’t think I can put this off anymore.” He sighed and I watched a whole world deflate. “Let’s go.”
He reached out for me and I sent the message to stand and reach for him to my body. Again, and again, and again. Nothing happened.
“Whoa,” I said wide-eyed as I giggled until even that seemed like an effort.
“Shit,” Brye swore under his breath. “Too much.”
“You’re too much. Your dad is too much. This is too much,” I said as I loopdeelooped and my head rolled along the leather back of the chair.
“Come on,” he said as his big arms notched behind my knees and my shoulders then lifted.
I should have been shying into him, shielding my naked flesh. I should have been watching out for what came next. Instead, I was wondering if his suit was soft or scratchy against my skin; I couldn’t tell.
He carried me down the stairs and my skeleton broke apart and snapped back together with each step. The metal chain drug beside with an ominous scrape that should have sent shivers down my spine. My spine that had been replaced by an accordion.
“Filly,” he said both sharp and soft as he set me on my tiptoes. When I almost folded he shoved me back against the wall behind us. I gasped. “Filly,” he repeated. “You have got to get your shit together.”
I knew his words were important. I knew what was about to happen was going to weigh a million pounds and shove my tired soul to the floor but… But this drug. And my brain.
And Brye.
I wanted this version of him. He’d crawled into a bathtub and held me. That must mean he wanted to protect me, to wipe the pain away. He was ruthless but not with me. Or at least the drugs convinced that was true.
My body hadn’t really been mine for fifteen minutes—or was it three hours? Time warped like this and now I was leaning toward Brye without any real thought about it. His soft lips were the pillow I wanted to crash into and sleep for a million years on. I kept staring at them, envisioning clouds and feathers and harps and all sorts of ludicrous things. When my lips actually pressed to his, it surprised us both. Me because my body had decided it needed to find heaven here in the midst of hell and him because…well, that list was too long for me to recount without use of my fingers. Or feeling in my toes.
He looked up, his fingers squeezed into the crooks of my elbows as the rest of him shuffled closer. The weight of him helped my body keep its shape while the gentle brush of his tongue against the seam of my lips threatened to melt me completely.
“Brye,” I breathed as my mouth opened for him.
His answering growl before he took advantage, struck squarely between my thighs.
This. This was what had consumed me and erased my rational thoughts. Kissing him was better than that solo orgasm. It was what I craved but couldn’t convince myself was worth taking. But whatever the fuck he’d given me had taken that part of my thought process away and I could sip his particular brand of ambrosia again. And freely. My tongue found his and twisted around, relearning the shape and strength of him. The taste that was indescribable yet something that made me ravenous.
He grabbed at my hips and pulled them to his as I deepened my kiss. Exploring his lips, breathing his breath, craving more. Craving the lead pipe pressing against the hollow of my stomach. Goosebumps traveled my naked skin even as held me closer. Kissed me harder.
All too soon he pulled away.
I sighed as I surrendered to the jelly of my body and sagged into him.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he repeated as he gathered up my limp body and tried to get me to hold myself up. “Filly, are you okay?”
“You take my breath away.” A part of me knew they were stupid, giddy words. A part of me didn’t care.
He brushed his thumb down my cheek then let the pad move across my lips. “You say that now…”
His face darkened and his jaw clenched, everything that I’d wanted to kiss, to cons
ume, evaporated. His hand moved from his steady hold to the chain I’d forgotten dropped between my breasts. He grabbed it then rolled the coil around his hand until the metal went taut and the leather pulled on my neck.
The whisper of pain was back, but it hid behind the fog. When he stepped away from my body, I folded until I hung from his makeshift noose. I tried to choke out his name but couldn’t. His eyes swam just for a second but then he unwound the chain once and I crashed completely to my knees. I had to bite back a cry despite the drugs.
It would have fallen on deaf ears. My Brye was gone and the man in his place pulled me into the dining room on my hands and knees like the thing he’d turned me into. Each floorboard grit against my skin as I dragged myself toward the table where my life had changed. Where deep inside me, I knew it was about to change again.
He pulled out a chair and slid into it as he pulled me up to his side.
“Sit up,” he commanded and when I couldn’t quite manage, he hooked under my arms and pulled me upright, propping me against the ornately carved leg of his chair.
When my eyes finally rolled up, Connor MacCallum was looking me dead in the eyes. He sat at the head of the table opposite of Brye, his hands templed in front of him as he watched us. His cold gaze made every hair on my body stand on end. He waited until I swallowed the lump in my throat and blinked to let his wicked gaze rove down.
Disgust and hatred flickered in my stomach, but I still couldn’t feel the full weight of anything. When my eyes fell from Connors, I became infinitely grateful that my world was hazy, that I was detached.
Six men sat around the table, three on each side stretched between Brye and Connor. Each had a woman, a pet, collared and seated beside them. Those women sat backs straight, chests out and relaxed faces, all similar because of their downcast eyes. All of them sported small brands somewhere visible only because of their nudity. I absentmindedly considered how badly they hurt and whether the ones on inner thighs hurt more or less. Connor had two girls, one of which was Deirdre who looked like a cat that had eaten a canary.
She was the only one unbranded.
“Well now that we’re all here,” Connor began with a wave of his hand. “Dinner can be served.”
Two nude male servers started bringing in dishes, setting one in front of Connor, then Brye before moving down the table in some predetermined order. I watched, still glad to be numb and distant, as the men seated fondled the servers or turned their pets toward hardening erections. Both servers were fine specimens, and I couldn’t turn away when one of the girls took him into her mouth after a simple yank on her leash.
His ass clenched and thighs went rigid as she pulled him into her mouth. The plate in his hand wobbled and his eyes fluttered closed. I was transfixed as he arched into her with an unbridled groan. He managed to get the plate down to the table before fisting his hands into her hair and pushing into her mouth until her nose touched the whisper of hair trailing from his belly button to cock. She took it for a moment but then her throat rolled wildly. She fidgeted and her hands balled. He didn’t flinch. Only when she jerked wildly and shoved on his thighs thirty seconds later did he pull out with a deep and husky chuckle.
“I love appetizers,” Connor exclaimed with his own laugh from the head of the table.
I gasped. Or wanted to, but my jaw just melted. What had I just seen? What would I see for the rest of the evening? I couldn’t piece it together. Nor could I piece together why I liked it. And I did like it, or my body did. I was slick between my thighs.
Brye for his part stayed still, barely sparing a glance for anything but his plate. When the naked and utterly aroused servers placed a goblet of wine on the floor in front of my knees, he offered them one deadpanned look before snatching it up. The server himself offered me a far longer, far hungrier look.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Brye warned.
The naked man with the donkey dick smiled and let his hand trace up my arm as he stood. I shoved myself harder—well what little bit of harder I could manage—into the chair keeping me upright.
“Tsk, tsk, Brye,” Connor’s voice cut above the general lull of debauched conversation. “I think she’d be delightful to watch.”
“I’d rather watch someone a little more devious. Someone that might actually pique my appetite.” He slugged back the glass of wine he’d stolen from me in a singular gulp. Another arrived at my knees. Brye took it. “Maybe Deirdre?” He arched an eyebrow and she answered him with a crooked smile.
“Deirdre will get her fill. It’s our new little pet I’m worried about.”
Connor playfully pouted and a shiver involuntarily shook me. I slipped from my perch against the leg of his chair and started careening forward. A moment later, the collar at my throat went tight and made me gag. Brye’s hand brushed the skin of my neck and goosebumps spread across my naked flesh as he pulled me back to seated. I couldn’t help but gag and cough when the pressure on my throat subsided.
“She must be parched, Brye.”
A third glass of wine arrived at my knees and this time I almost reached out to take it. When Brye swatted my hands away, I remembered that he’d told me it was drugged. My mouth fell open again despite the scratch of my throat when he gulped that glass down too.
“Give her the drink, Brye.” Any jest in Connor’s voice was gone.
“No.”
“Now, Brye.” The skitter of a chair and crisp clicks of dress shoes seemed to echo through the room as Connor prowled toward me. I couldn’t hide from him. I still couldn’t move on my own. I looked up at Brye. His profile was fierce and carved from stone, putting his strong nose and sharp jaw on display as the muscles in his neck feathered.
“I will not ask again.”
Connor grabbed the goblet from Brye’s hand then fisted into my hair. He yanked my head back and my shoulder fell from its perch, my body becoming his to control.
“She’s already on something?” He laughed. “Now not only will she be powerless to stop what’s next, she’ll actually want it.”
He waited until my mouth lolled open and then started pouring. The acid of red wine burnt my throat as Connor poured the full goblet. It was automatic to swallow. I was desperate to breathe, not to choke, and I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t move.
Wine splashed to the corners of my mouth and down across my cheeks. The small rivers cascaded from my chin down onto my chest. Across my stomach and between my thighs. But most of it went down my throat. It was bitter and made me want to spit but my body wouldn’t even do that.
“That’s better.” He finished pouring and set the glass down.
His long fingers traced the trails that crossed my face as he studied me. He crouched down, still holding me by my head, half-cocked. I had to look down across the planes of my cheeks to watch him. Watch him devour me. His eyes were like small teeth nibbling at my flesh, taking their fill.
Then his hands became greedy. They traveled the tracks worn in wine. When his hands left my skin, he pressed his fingertips into his mouth and pulled my lolling head closer.
“Mmmm, delicious.”
“You said I’d get to do it,” Brye said, his voice soft but downright lethal and dripping with vengeance.
“I said perhaps.” Connor traced the last of the wine where it disappeared between my thighs. Then lower. I gasped when his fingers flicked my clit then slipped inside of me.
A lethal growl was the only warning I got before Connor’s hands were gone and my body careened down. My reflexes were slow, but my arms were finally working well enough that I could push myself up. Sort of.
And what I saw almost stopped my heart.
Well, fuck me this is not the way I thought this would go.
I thought about all the ways this had gone left while I held the serrated steak knife to my father’s throat where his hands still lingered too close to Filly. Every man around the table had stood, two toppled their chairs, one stepped closer, while the rest just watched with detac
hed interest.
I’d meant to be nothing but icy calm and cool collected rage, but then she fucking kissed me. Filly had wanted to kiss me, and from the way she watched my lips, the way she clung to me, and the dose I’d given her, she’d made her body do it.
She’d been chipping away at my harshness since I met her. She’d done her fair share of building it back up too, but with that kiss… It was the worst moment possible to go soft. And soft I was except for the raging hard-on that came with her willing affection after everything.
I’d had to choke her just to see something—anything—replace love in her eyes. The hate that had filled them by the time I propped her limp body next to me in the dining room was its own kind of armor. Too bad dad had found the chinks.
“You think I won’t?” I asked through gritted teeth as I pressed the tip into his flesh far enough for a teardrop of blood to swell and slip down to stain his white shirt.
“I think I’d like to see you try.” He stretched his neck and my blade slipped in deeper, flesh cutting like butter.
“Brye,” Emmett’s voice was just behind me, holding both warmth and warning.
“We’re all just savages. Bloodthirsty fucking savages. This was inevitable.”
My father smiled. “That it was and that we are m’boy.” He lifted his hand to rub my shaved head and my lip curled farther. But then he moved into the wound I’d inflicted. With a single finger, he traced the blood dripping down his throat much like he had the wine that had wine down Filly. He pressed the bloody fingers into his lips and purred.
We stared at each other for a moment that stretched and warped with the weight of a thousand things. Things like the knowledge that one day, one of us would kill the other. That even as father and son, we could not really coexist. Not really. I would take up his reign or be buried by it. It was that or be responsible for a blood feud and chaos. And all for a world where Filly couldn’t exist. Ryan or not.
He knew today wasn’t that day before I did.
I dropped the knife to the floor and to me it seemed to crash like a boulder. It was one of the few times he stood up silent and walked away. Only when he sat back down and eyed me, did I reach down and help Filly back to kneeling.