Page 45 of The Knucklebone Brothers

I leaned back, a low moan escaping my lips. It was a sound of pure pleasure, a sound that even she could hear. Her eyes widened, and something flashed in them—a mix of shock, desire, and something else. I couldn't quite place it. I was trying to analyze it, trying to figure out what she was up to, but I was too busy watching her hand move, too caught up in the sight of her pleasuring herself.

I watched her, my eyes glued to her face, drinking in every little detail. Her hand was moving faster now, a steady rhythm against her clit, her fingers digging in deep. Her breath hitched, a ragged gasp escaping her throat, but she was trying to keep it down.

I could see the tension coiling in her body, her muscles straining, her back arching. Her mouth fell open, a silent scream trapped in her throat, and she bit down so hard on her lower lip that her teeth sank in. The skin turned a dark, angry red, almost purple, and I could see the teeth marks pressing into the soft flesh.

I thought about biting her right there, sinking my teeth into her lip, tasting her blood as it mixed with her own juices. It would be so sweet, so intoxicating. I wanted to mark her, to claim her, to own her completely.

My hand moved to my crotch, my fingers digging into the denim, rubbing against my hard dick.

I couldn't take it anymore. The silence was suffocating me, and watching her try to stifle those sounds was driving me insane. I grabbed her by the throat, my fingers digging into the soft skin, my grip firm and unrelenting. I leaned in close, my face inches from hers, my eyes burning into hers.

"Let go!" I growled, my voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I want to hear those sweet moans. I want to hear you come. Let go, Aurora. Let yourself go."

I watched her, my grip on her throat tightening just enough to cut off her air, her face turning a lovely shade of purple. Her eyes were bulging, desperate, as she clawed at my hand, gasping for breath.

"Let go," I commanded, my voice a low, dangerous growl right against her ear. "Don't hold back. I want to hear you scream. Come for me, Aurora. Let that sweet pussy get what it wants."

Her body arched off the mattress, her back bowing like a taut bowstring. With a ragged cry that was finally loud enough to satisfy me, she let go. She slammed her fingers down onto her clit, rubbing furiously, her hips bucking against her hand. Her body convulsed, her eyes rolling back in her head, and a loud, guttural moan tore from her throat, shattering the silence of the trailer.

I released my hold on her throat, letting her gasp for air, but I didn't pull back. I watched her ride out her orgasm. I stared at her mouth, open and gasping, her lips swollen and red. I looked back down at her hand slow down between her legs. It was a beautiful sight.

I slowly backed up, the wood of the stool scraping against the floorboards with a screech that seemed to echo in the quiet room. I stood there, looming over her, a slow, crooked smile spreading across my face under my mask. It was a look of pure, unadulterated satisfaction, the kind a cat gets after swatting a mouse around. But I knew she could see it. I saw the flash of annoyance in her eyes, the defiance replacing the dazed, blissful look she’d just had. She knows. A dark thrill running through me. She knows I won. I was pleased with myself. I had broken her down and put her back together again, piece by piece.

I looked down at her, her chest heaving, her skin flushed, and her eyes blazing with anger. "You're welcome," I said, my voice a low, teasing drawl. "Glad I could help you out."

She glared at me, her mouth set in a hard line. "Fuck you for that," she spat.

I chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in my chest. "Now, now," I said, stepping closer again, invading her space. "You should be thanking me."

She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing. "I should be thanking you?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "For you dragging me here, for treating me like this, for spitting on me and forcing me to do that? Yeah, right."

I grinned, my eyes twinkling with amusement. "You're welcome anyway," I said. "I'll be back to check on you later."

Chapter 16

The rhythmic thwack of the axe splitting wood was the only sound that mattered. Each swing was a prayer, each splintered log a testament to the coming cold. The Georgia heat was a bastard, thick enough to drink, but I kept swinging. Gotta get the wood stacked. My arms burning with the effort. Winter don't care how hot it is today. It'll be here soon enough, and we'll be burnin' this to keep the chill off our bones. My mind was drifting, though, drifting back to Rory. The way her skin had flushed under the belt, the sweet sound of her cries. She's a fighter, that one, I thought with a dark grin. Gonna be a real joy to break.

I brought the axe down one last time, splitting a particularly stubborn piece of oak, and leaned the handle against my shoulder, wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my glove. That's when I saw him. Maverick, strolling out of Rory's trailer like he found the candy stash. He pulled that creepy clown mask off, his face slick with sweat, a look on him that was part satisfied predator, part lunatic.

"Well, look at you," I called out, my voice a low gravelly hum. "Finally come up for air? Leave anything for the rest of us?"

Maverick just shot me a look, his eyes dark and hungry. "Just makin' sure she knows who's in charge," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "I'm obsessed, Blythe. I wanna eat her alive."

Before I could make a joke about him being a lovesick pup, the sound of frantic footsteps came crashing through the woods. It was Knox, his massive frame barreling towards us, his face a mask of panic. He looked like he'd seen a ghost, or worse, a cop.

"Boys!" he wheezed, skidding to a halt in the dirt, his chest heaving. "Stop your damn foolin'! We got trouble!"

Maverick's smirk vanished. "What is it?"

Knox pointed a shaking finger back towards the main road, his voice dropping to a terrified whisper. "The sheriff's here! Sheriff Duffy's cruisin' up the damn holler right now!"

Maverick just snorted, kicking at a loose rock by his boot. "That ugly piece of shit," he grumbled, the annoyance clear in his voice. "Ruinin' my come down, dammit."

I let out a low chuckle, leaning my axe against the woodpile. "Sheriff Duffy," I said, spitting on the ground. "That man's had a hard-on for our family since before I could grow a decent beard. Wants to either put us all in the ground or lock us up and throw away the key. We been beatin' him off our backs for years, but the fucker just won't quit. He's like a tick, fat and full of our trouble, but he just keeps digging in."

Maverick looked at Knox, then at me, a wild, unhinged look in his eyes. "Well, shit," he said. "Let's go see Momma, I reckon."

Knox's eyes narrowed, his face a mask of confusion and anger. "What the hell do you think he wants?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.