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“Always has been,” he said, pressing my head down a little harder. “Always will be.”
Lucas’s hard cock pressed against me through his jeans. Liquidfire rushed through my veins, igniting every nerve, fear and excitement overtaking me. I kicked and struggled as if my life depended on it, as if I actually hoped for an escape.
But there was no escape. I really had asked for this.
Good girls didn’t get railed on the kitchen floor while they screamed how much they hated the men fucking them, but there I was.
“You sick bastards!” God, it felt good to scream, but I was already so out of breath. They were stronger than me, controlling me like I was nothing. Lucas tugged at my oversized shirt, rough fingers brushing over the nape of my neck before the fabric tore. He ripped through my t-shirt with his bare hands, then traced his fingers along my spine before he unclasped my bra.
“Stop!” I kicked my feet, hands scrambling against the floor. “Get the fuck off me!”
But I knew he wouldn’t. I didn’t want him to.
He tossed my clothes away, leaving only my panties, then he roughly squeezed my ass, fingernails digging into my skin.
“Cut them off her,” Manson said. There was a familiar sound, a click of metal. I sharply sucked in a breath, stiffening when something cold and hard tapped against my leg. It slid under the side of my panties, and Lucas tugged, slicing the knife easily through my underwear. He did the same thing on the other side and pulled the ruined fabric off me, leaving me entirely naked.
For a moment, one that seemed suspended in another reality, Lucas leaned down close to my ear. “Are we doing this, Jess? Still think you’re ready to play?”
I let my muscles relax for those brief few seconds as I said, “We’re doing it. Don’t fucking stop.”
Then the moment shattered, and Lucas chuckled low and dark in my ear. Manson removed his foot from my head, but it came with a command. “Get her up.”
Lucas hauled me to my feet, his fingers gripping my hair. Manson pulled a chair out from the table, scraping it harshly across the floor, and Lucas shoved me into it.
The moment my ass hit the chair, Manson caught me by the throat. I gripped his wrist, digging my nails into the scratches I’d given him. But my grip loosened as Lucas handed the knife back to him, and Manson brought the weapon close to my face.
“I can scratch too, angel,” he said. “But my scratches will hurt a lot more than yours.”
He traced the very tip of the blade across my cheek, and I didn’t dare move. I remained completely rigid, gulping hard against his hand. Lucas stripped off his vest, the numerous pins affixed to it clicking when he tossed it down on the table. He whipped his belt out of his jeans and they sagged low on his hips, showing off the muscular V that led down from his abs. He came closer, doubling over the belt and snapping it together.
“Put your arms down,” Manson said, his voice low in warning. “Or I make you bleed.”
I lowered my arms to my sides. My heart pulsed against my ribs and my stomach felt hollow as Lucas wrapped the belt around my waist and arms, then secured it behind the chair, pinning my elbows to my sides. Only then did Manson release my throat and took a step back, regarding me thoughtfully.
The butterfly knife flipped open and closed in his fingers, the weapon spinning like a toy. Lucas was behind me, lurking just out of my sight. I could hear his boots pacing slowly across the wood floor.
“Don’t feel like you should give up the fight,” he said, suddenly pulling my head back by my hair so I was forced to look up at him. He gave my cheek a few sharp, stinging pats before he released me. “I like my toys interactive. It’s so much more fun when they scream.”
“You do have the prettiest screams,” Manson said, his voicefrighteningly sweet. He came closer, and a whimper of alarm burst out of me as he traced the blade over my breast and tapped the flat of it against one of my pierced nipples.
“Sensitive, aren’t they?” He moved the knife away and pinched the hardened bud between his thumb and forefinger, forcing a shocked gasp from my mouth. “Does that hurt?”
“No.” I grit my teeth, inhaling sharply. “Not sensitive…I don’t…I don’t care…”
The fridge’s ice dispenser turned on behind me, followed by the familiar sound of cubes clinking into a glass. I jumped when Lucas’s fingers brushed the back of my neck, shockingly cold as he swept my hair to the side.
“This ain’t some Mr. Darcy courtship, sweetheart.” Lucas reached over my shoulder, clutching an ice cube in his fingers as Manson stepped back. He trailed it over my skin, cold water dripping onto my thighs. “This is payback.”
He swirled the ice around my nipple and at the same moment his lips pressed against my neck. I jolted, the burning cold almost as shocking as the tenderness of his mouth. Lips and tongue explored my neck, warm and sparking with pain when he nipped me.
Then that initial tenderness vanished. He bit me hard, drawing my flesh into his mouth, teeth digging in. I screamed in shock, but Manson was quick, pressing his hand over my mouth to muffle the cry. Lucas suckled the bruised skin as he swirled the ice over my nipples, first one and then the other.
“Are you still going to lie to us?” Lucas hissed. “Or are you ready to admit how sensitive you are?”
Manson uncovered my mouth but kept a grip on my face. I choked down the desperate, needy sounds that kept trying to escape from my mouth as he said expectantly, “Well? What do you have to say now?”
“No!” I snapped, even though the word nearly broke as Lucasused one hand to roll my nipple between his fingers, tugging lightly at the jeweled bar pierced through it.
