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EMERSON
I started this to prove to her that I’m a bastard. That I’m evil. That I’m a terrible man, just like my father. I wanted her to know the depths of my depravity, but it’s turned on me more than I thought possible.
The air in the room is supercharged with Daphne’s sweet, lovely darkness and the absolute, unrestrained trust she has in me. The game slips between reality and illusion. It’s so real. And it’s a raw form of play. My brothers, drinking like we’re actually in a gallery. A private showing. And Daphne, her pussy wet on my fingers.
Half my mind is here with her. Lost in her eyes. The other half struggles to sort and frame my feelings. I hate having people in my house. I want my brothers to be here. I have never liked games. I love this one with Daphne. I told myself that I didn’t give a fuck if my brothers understood me, or if they understood too much. But I don’t want to be alone. There’s a limited amount of my life I can share with them because of the way I am. But this? This?
I can’t help but share it.
It’s the most complex thing I’ve ever tried to untangle.
So I focus on Daphne.
I’ve done that since the moment I saw her on the street. At moments like these, she is the only real thing. The rest of the world is art, or else it’s emotion, closing in fast. Jealousy, for one. My brothers are looking at her. At my piece. Mine. I’ve never felt jealousy about showing a part of my collection before.
But my jealousy is superseded by Daphne.
I kept my fingers inside her while I spoke. I didn’t need to. I could have put my hands in my pockets. I wanted more information, and I got it. She’s still wet. Still soaked. Her pussy tugs at my fingers.
She likes this. Daphne seeks me out, finding my eyes for comfort when she feels overwhelmed, but she blushes whenever she looks at Sin and Will.
My little painter is hot for exhibitionism. She might even crave it. And if she likes it, I want to give her more. If that means I have to tack jealousy to the wall with a hundred nails, then so be it.
Aside from that, observation increases value. In this case, it won’t make Daphne worth more money. I will never sell her. Not at any price. But what we have between us is heightened by my brothers’ presence. I don’t just want her behind closed doors. If it weren’t for her family currently hunting for her, I’d announce this acquisition to the world.
I push those thoughts away and turn them into abstract art for the time being. There is nothing worth considering outside this room. Daphne is in my frame. Daphne is here with me. And she’s not done for the night. Her chest rises and falls in a quick rhythm. Her eyes are bright. She has more to give me.
I have more to take from her.
I pull my fingers out of her. A silent question flashes over her face. Are you leaving me? No fucking way. I’ll stay close. When I don’t move, relief crosses her eyes. Another irony. Our story is to be irony upon irony, because Daphne wants me nearby. She wants the man who kidnapped her to protect her from his brothers.
It only takes half a step to make more space in front of her frame. “Sinclair,” I say. “Why don’t you take her down?”
“Are you sure? She looks good in her frame.”
“You can turn her around and get a better look.”
Also, Daphne shouldn’t spend too much longer bound the way she is. It’s putting pressure on her delicate wrists, whether she feels it or not. I won’t have her damaged. Not even for the sake of the game.
Glasses click on one of the side tables, and Sin approaches. He stands next to me at Daphne’s frame and holds up his hands.
“May I?” He directs this question to me, not for her, and the flush on her cheeks intensifies again. I nail down a bolt of jealousy. Her eyes are on his face now, which is understandable. He’s the one who’s about to touch her. Sin seems to understand that contact with Daphne is a delicate business.
“Yes.” I put my hands in my pockets. “Keep her value in mind.”
Sin takes a moment to survey Daphne’s bindings. He starts with her ankle first, bending down to release one foot, then the other. She wriggles her toes on the frame. Stretches her calves. Sin brushes her skin with the backs of his knuckles as he unties her. Daphne shivers every time he does.
He reaches for the rope around her waist. Daphne bites her lip, glancing at me like she needs permission to be touched. I don’t say a goddamn word. Sin already has my permission.
My brother unhooks the rope at the top last. “Emerson.”
I come forward and lift her to the floor. He keeps the end of the rope and hands it off to me when her feet are secure. I move her a few steps out from the frame to give us more space.
Sin peers down at her. “You gave her quite a few markings,” he comments.
“Yes.”
“Did she like it?”
