The rhythm’s growing ragged. Braden’s getting close.
So am I.
He hasn’t made her come yet.
That’s the thought that draws me forward, makes me bend over her. Eliza’s eyes open wide. She drinks in the sight of me standing over my stepbrother as he fucks her, and it’s my name lingering on her lips.
I keep jacking myself off as I reach between them to flick at her clit. The bead is hard against my fingertips. My brother’s hips bump against my hand, forcing me into a faster rhythm.
Now she’s getting close, too.
“Oh God,” Eliza says. “Galen.”
Braden fists his hands in her hair. Yanks her head back to expose her throat. “Braden,” he says, as if correcting her, and then sinks his teeth into her throat.
I’m about to come. We all are.
Her mouth opens wide, and I know what she’s asking me to do.
Braden orgasms with a shout against her neck, and I mirror him. My body pulses. My blood throbs. My spine stiffens, arching, and my fist clenches tight around my dick as I erupt.
Thick ropes of cum shoot over her lips and into her mouth, gaping wide as she orgasms.
My brother and I, we fill her at the same time—mouth and pussy.
She’s perfect.
Eliza. My Eliza.
***
Eliza
Don’t ask me how I got onto their private jet.
I don’t even know.
One minute I’m getting fucked in the changing room of a high-end dress store, and the next, I’m being buckled into my chair by a stewardess wearing a low-cut uniform and wondering if I’m going to be ordered to pleasure her next.
I feel stunned, outside of my body. I’ve gone far beyond whatever I might have experienced that time my asshole of an ex slipped me a roofie. I had thought that must have been the most surreal experience humanly possible. Having such a huge gap in my memory with only fleeting glimpses of what I experienced had been strange, disorienting, upsetting.
But now I have entered a permanent dream state. I am drifting through a surreal landscape of a private jet with platinum fixtures and men wearing custom suits created by exclusive Italian designers.
Someone is slipping a diamond tennis bracelet around my wrist. The seat belt buckles. I don’t even know if I’m clothed.
Yes. I am clothed.
The dress fits perfectly, and I am numb to look down at myself and find that it hugs my curves excellently. It’s not like the tiny things that Leanne had me trying on at the store. It looks like it was made for me.
“I had your measurements taken while you slept last night,” Galen says. It’s only then that I become aware he’s sitting beside me. There are no window or aisle seats on the private jet; every seat is cushioned and spacious. He is only just near enough that we could hold hands if we wanted to.
“You got my measurements and had dresses tailored for me in…what, ten hours?” I ask. It’s a small miracle that the words come out of me coherently. I can still taste both Galen and Leanne on my tongue and feel Braden’s body moving inside of mine.
“Eight hours,” he replies.
My body has been opened in so many ways, but still fewer than my mind. The g-forces press me into the chair as the airplane takes off. The engines roar. The echo of the Blood brothers roaring in tandem orgasm echoes throughout my skull, never to be forgotten.
“Eliza Downey,” Galen muses, gazing at me with his chin resting on his forefinger and thumb, like a male model shooting steamy gazes from the pages of a high fashion magazine.
“Downey?”
That’s Braden. He steps out of the cockpit, and I see that he is wearing a suit almost twin to that of his stepbrother’s, the only difference being that it is white rather than charcoal.
And he looks furious.
“What?” Galen asks.
“Did you call her Eliza Downey?” Braden asks.
“That’s her name.”
Braden’s laser-sharp gaze zeroes in on me. He looks furious.
My mouth goes dry.
He recognizes that name.
It should be impossible. There’s no way that he could know why I picked that name, or what I’ve done. If he knows, everything will end immediately—this beautiful dream of sweating bodies and ultimate pleasure and unimaginable riches.
Worse, I will probably be arrested.
He can’t know.
I open my mouth to speak, but can’t find any words.
“Downey,” Braden says, and the way that he says it makes one thing clear:
Braden Blood knows my secret.
And he’s about to tell Galen.
***
Episode 3
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Blood Brothers: A Dark BBW Dom Billionaire Stepbrother Menage Serial (Stepbrother Billionaire Games Book 2) Page 4