by Molly Molloy
He was the man who claimed my mouth with his tongue. I should have known. Why hadn't I recognized him?
“But she knows everything,” Josh says. “I told her you're not my father.”
“She already figured that out when the police came back here with the DNA report.”
“What DNA report?” Josh's eyes stretch wide with excitement. Rather that fear of arrest, he looks enthralled with the thrill of the chase.
“They took a glass and ran tests for a match to the fabric shreds under the fingernails of the girl you took at carnival,” Mark says wearily.
Josh laughs, extreme pleasure at how they've outwitted the carabinieri.
“Didn't Josh leave after I met you at carnival and go back to London?”
“Josh rarely goes back to London. He goes to our Father on an island in the lagoon.”
“Is that why the comandante asked where your father was,” I say still fighting to make this all fit together. The two men lock eyes and something passes between them. Something they silently agree to keep from me.
“You have to be more careful now,” I add. And they both stare at me for an impossibly long time.
They're so surprised by my collusion, they've completely forgotten I'm tied up and stark naked, spread wide under their control.
I'm a little surprised myself but I don't want anything ugly to happen to Josh any more than Mark does. He's too fragile, too beautiful and damaged to cope with police cells and prison-can you imagine how they'd rip his ass to shreds, someone that perfect.
“No, this has to stop Josh. They're getting too close,” Mark says.
“I don't understand why you pretend to be father and son,” I say.
It's amazing how comfortable I am being spreadeagled naked and bound for these two brothers. One, if not both of whom are murderers. My body craves their touch and their admiration and I'm not remotely afraid of them. It seems so natural to trust them. I know they not only want me, they need me and I've finally found where I belong.
“We're not related by blood,” Mark says. “Nobody in Venice knows that though. And I promised our father I'd keep his golden boy safe.”
“You're adopted,” I whisper. It's slow as syrup falling into place.
“I told you she was smart,” Josh says as though he's created me.
“Hmm,mm.” Mark nods and a flicker of pain shoots across his handsome features. “I was a boy when Carlo Capello took me in. Later he got together with-with Josh's mother and the golden child finally arrived. Carlo adopted me. Because I was the perfect scapegoat to use as his favorite's alibi. But as we grew and the abductions began, my coloring was too obviously different for the alibi to stand up.”
“So you pretend to be father and son so the DNA test doesn't match and they lose the trail?” I ask.
“Best case scenario.” Mark says, the rage pulsing barely contained by the darkly patterned surface of his skin. I see know Mark and Josh have the same black tribal patterns inked on their shoulders.
“Worst case?” I ask, turmoil mounting in my core rather than clearing.
“He goes down for me.” Josh says with too much glee for my taste.
Mark has been shielding him his entire life and he's ready to drop him straight into jail in his place if it comes to it.
“Your father knows about-all this?”
Mark nods minutely. I detect the pain in his face as no one else can as he moves to the other side of the bed and unshackles my hand.
“My father taught us well.”
“He adopted you as an alibi for Josh, his golden boy?” I whisper, feeling the wrench of grief for Mark who's suffered at least as much in childhood as I have. He's been used far worse though. As a tool, a substitute. Not because his parent is jealous, but because he doesn't give a fuck.
“He made us share everything.”
“We always share everything,” Josh repeats.
“He trained you?” I say.
Mark and I have our eyes frozen into each other loaded with significance at every unfolding horror.
“He was the first one to serve labia at dinner,” Josh buts in, eager for the attention as he tells the story with a wide grin. As though he's being offered a second slice of cake at a birthday party.
“Labia?” I hear my voice from far away, a pathetic whimper of horror as the realization flows over me like a vicious tide. “He fed you labia.”
“He forced us to eat all the various parts of his victims but the sensual areas are his favorite delicacy.”
“You fed me that girl's-” I turn my horror to Josh.
“Pussy. Delicious wasn't it? You agreed with me then so don't take it back now. They always do that.” Josh gets petulant in the face of the smallest contradiction.
He twists my nipple between spiteful fingers until I gasp.
“I said let her go,” Mark tells him, his voice deathly dark. “I'm not stepping aside for this one. She is mine and I'm keeping her.”
His shocked face says his brother's become a stranger to him and Josh lets me go.
Mark & Josh
I'm surprised she doesn't hurl. We can't resist telling her and relishing the shock fluttering across her face when she realizes how she gorged on another woman's clit. A dead woman's lips served up as a delicacy at the dinner table in the special sauce our father always demanded. How she delighted in the tender meat and licked her lips lasciviously.
Those beautiful lips made to wrap around a mans' cock.
She's stronger than I imagined. In fact I've watched her get stronger and stronger through all this. The realization that we're the Venice Ripper. Of course she thinks it's only the two girls from the news reports.
She has no idea that we've been torturing women for years in this grand old palazzo, keeping them down here teasing them with our stimulation tools until they can't hold back.
We're massively infatuated with how women can feel fear and pain yet still be sexually excited. We like to lift them to the peak of their hunger before slicing off the engorged clitoris.
“Let go of her now,” he says.
It's obvious beautiful Rye loves the possessiveness in his voice. It makes her glow.
“You drugged me?” she asks again, not angry though. She's thinking this all through and she looks unbearably sexy and vulnerable on our table. “Not because you wanted me to stay.”
“I wanted you to stay,” he says. “It was me that came to you when you needed me. When he left you.”
“How did you get out of this chamber?” he wants to know. The agitation – the defeat in his face is worth it all.
“Daddy didn't let you in on all the secrets.”
“So you tell me now.”
“Maybe he's an apparition or a ghost,” she says like they're ganging up on me together, trying to leave me out on the sidelines.
“I have a secret passage. Daddy built it for me hidden behind the St Andrews crucifix. Well it's been there since the fourteenth century for the smugglers and the sexual doings between the aristos so he didn’t build it he just took advantage of it. For me.”
They're both afraid now. The terror is shining from their eyes like a searchlight even though they're fixed onto each other trying to eradicate it with their soppy mutual support.
“You're safe now still. With us,” she says. Her voice is like a promise of happiness that I remember from a long time ago. But I don't think I believe her.
“It was me. That threw the green velvet into the canal so the carabinieri couldn't test it.” She turns to Mark. “Sorry if the statue I used for a weight was priceless but I had to take care of you guys.”
“Never mind that fucking statue,” he growls.
We remove our hand from twisting and curling on her inner thigh as she convulses with a series of pulsations. We both look at her with deep inquiry.
Chapter THIRTEEN
Riley
The lust in the dark pools is palpable. Josh is still gazing at my spread sex, hungry for me an
d reluctant to let me go to his brother. I have never felt so desired and hungered after in my life. Never could have imagined this was possible. I am mindless with lust for the two fake brothers. I want it to go on forever. This obliteration of myself to their need for me.
My free hand drags up my soft stomach to my swollen breast and I pinch my hard nipple while both men watch. Then I mound and squeeze my breast for them while my hips thrust forward, as much as possible under the bindings, letting them know what I want. I cannot believe my wanton abandon. I would never have had the esteem to ask for one man so far out of my league, but two – what has come over me since Venice Carnival?
The pressure builds up again between my thighs and the urge to throw myself over the edge is insatiable. I reach for the clasp on Mark's leather belt and tug it free, the button of his jeans, the zipper, then I tug his iron hard shaft out of the opening in the black shorts.
Still pinioned by the three ties at my ankles and wrist, I crane my head around and lick the head of his gorgeous huge cock, sucking it between my lips as he thrusts forward.
I love his heavy pole so much, I actually want it in my mouth. It's not a chore as it was with Dwayne, my ex husband. Giving a blow job has become a delightful gift of pleasure to a beautiful man. I want to taste it and lick it. I kiss the very tip as they both gaze at my lips with greed plastered all over both of them.
Mark slips up onto the table beside me and I take the length of his cock deep into my mouth, letting him push deeper into the top of my throat before sliding halfway out. I make my tongue flat and taut as he grazes back across the length of it. Then cling to the head of his prick with the tip teasing at the opening, tasting his juice.
Josh loosens the ties at my feet and I roll onto my knees, bent over Mark and swallowing him deeper as I move my head up and down. He fists my hair and holds my head onto him so I breathe in the musky aroma. I shudder on his dick as Josh strokes the length of my slit from behind, my ass stuck high in the air while he stands at the end of the table.
I bob my head up and down faster on Mark's cock, taking him deep into my throat. With a grunt every time his head rams down my tight channel, he reaches inside the lace cups and tugs my avid breasts free. They sway in front of him, teasing his clasp around them.
When he clenches his thighs in a spasm, he clamps his hands around my head, keeping me immobile long enough to hold off his explosion. Then sits up on the table and pulls me forward onto his lap. I wrap my legs around him and raise my pelvis so he presses his gorgeous cock at my entrance.
In one smooth glide he shoves all the way inside me and I almost contort into eruption right then. We sit on the table with me impaled on Mark's long blade while he tugs my breast into his mouth, licking and nibbling the aching nipple.
Josh moves behind and tugs my other hard peak possessively between his fingers twisting it until I gasp. He's like a child snatching a toy-with my body his toy. The flare of pain is a relief from the ecstasy of pleasure coursing through me with so many hands and fingers tweaking my ravenous body. Josh's solid chest presses into my back, pushing me closer into Mark's firm pecs.
“Is this what you want my angel?” Mark lets go of my nipple to whisper into my neck.
I murmur a hungry pleading moan of agreement as Josh scoops some of the wetness leaking from me to circle and probe at my rear entrance. I clench and tense against his touch. No man has ever touched me there and shafts of hot energy fire through me as he stretches and forces a finger inside. The first impulse of repulsion is immediately replaced by rockets of ecstasy firing up through me onto Mark's hot blade.
They share my full breasts and my secret tunnels. I have never felt so completely wanted and taken, filled by the two hottest men in Venice. My dark lover moans as he laps and tugs at my breast in his mouth. His killer sibling, the white haired angel shoves all the way into my back passage making my whole body expand with fullness.
They wait while my panting calms just enough from the double invasion. I take the time to relish being filled to capacity and riding on two massive cocks. We three hold there, pressed tight together feeling the rapture ripple through our connected forms. Mark moves to rub my pellet nub standing hard in my slickness and I immediately explode with the most tumultuous climax of my existence.
As the rapture explodes in my core, a sweet gush of nectar flows over his broad cock making my deranged ardor more intense so I thrash and buck wildly. Josh groans loud as the pulsations echo through my tight hole, along his pole. He moans in my ear and pounds faster, hitting the tip of Mark's head deep inside of me. I am the safe harbor for both men, the one they'll always need. They'll never let me go now.
I grind down onto Mark's blade by circling my hips, which sends more deep sensation though Josh and both men convulse into jolting release, exploding streams inside of me almost simultaneously.
Mark circles my dripping pussy again, eliciting another series of mind-blowing aftershocks of bliss rattling through me and we are all spent. The force of the two solid torsos pressing on either side of me is the only thing preventing us from keeling over.
“You can't ever leave me now,” Mark murmurs.
“I never wanted to. You're safe now.”
Epilogue
Josh finally goes back to architecture school in London and comes every weekend to visit us in Venice. We go out on the town, visiting the bars and restaurants like before. Every eye still roves across me, inquiring what I've got that holds two such divine men to my bosom.
If only they knew.
The brothers were trained to share from early on.
Letting Josh share me with Mark keeps him happy. And if Josh is happy, he's not slicing up women he snatches from dark alleys and keeps in the basement like pets. Mark's happy, relieved and unburdened from protecting the golden child, so that makes me happy.
There's only been one downturn that brought Alanzo Guerra, the Comandante back to the Palazzo with his intrusive suspicious questioning. Another girl was found in Venice. Almost a year after the events recounted here, a year when no women were tortured and killed, they found a new case.
Of course they found nothing to incriminate anyone at our palace but I found it odd that the girl's time of death was placed at a moment Josh wasn't with us. He'd been back in London two days already at the time they determined.
You can bet I informed el comandante of that fact in no uncertain terms. Drawing myself up in regal posture that comes easily to me now. Especially when I tower above him in my studded six-inch platforms.
“We think it may not be a serial killer committing these atrocities. As we have three different sets of DNA to match. One from each of those poor victims.”
“Must have been a copycat,” I say. Turning my back on the commander to lead him back to the massive door. “If you'll excuse me, I have to dress for dinner.”
“A copycat you say, Signorina?” The comandante turns back to me getting all Poirot-like at the door, rubbing his chin and shit.
“Obviously. It's the only logical deduction. And it's Signora now, Inspector.”
“Ah. My congratulations.”
The Commander walks away shaking his head and I slam the door shut .
Is it wrong that I keep two amazing men for myself when I would have been stunned in my previous life to entice even one like them?
I think not. I do it for Mark. It's the only way to keep him safe from the demons he needs to keep housed in his enormous home. And in return he keeps mine at bay. Have I mentioned before that I would do anything for Mark. Absolutely anything he wanted of me.
We're bonded in our guardianship of the golden child whose real father, the one who started his sons down this demonic path is still absent. He's close by apparently, on an island out in the lagoon, close to Torcello and Burano where the tourists visit. But I've still never laid eyes on him and in truth I'm not eager to. Mark doesn't seem keen to have him over for dinner and didn't invite him to our beautiful wedding.
It doesn't hurt that I get to live in a palace and have the two gorgeous stepbrothers inside me at the same time, feeding hungrily on my ample body as though their lives depended on it.
Perhaps they do.
RIPPED is a two-part romantic suspense. Both parts of the series are now published and although the story is complete, that doesn't mean that Riley, Mark and Josh won't be back. Riley seems to have a lot more she wants to say.
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A bit about Molls
I'm a wanderer. Rootless. A slow world traveler. A visit is never enough for me to fully experience different cultures. I have to stay and make like a local. I've lived in different countries all over the world for research, great food and no end of adventures. Naturally, all my stories feature mysterious alpha males in exotic locations. What better kind of lover is there?
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