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"This is my clit to play with. No other man can touch it. God help them if they try."
My body tells me to quit fighting. Squirts shoot out of me, spurting onto Brock’s hand. Rook sucks my tit the entire time, igniting sensations inside me that I wasn’t aware I could feel.
Rook’s been beating off this entire time. His mammoth cock spurts on my face. Cum shot after cum shot splashes into my mouth, nose, and eyes. I try to suck in a breath but it’s like breathing underwater. I can’t breathe. Panic fills me as my chest heaves. My heart hammers.
Rook kisses me. The cum clogging my lips vanishes. He swirls his tongue around my mouth, then feeds me a chocolate cupcake.
"Here."
I take a much-needed bite and realize that it’s time.
Now.
I must tell them about Nate.
"I have to get something off my chest."
I push out a breath. "Neither of you know much about my past. I assume you’ve done some research, but research can only get you so far. My family isn’t like most families. My mother passed away years ago right when I was becoming a teenager. I’ve spent my entire life trying to make her proud. She was brilliant but career options for women weren’t as open as they are today back when she met my father. She wanted to pursue a master’s degree as an adult as soon as she could afford it. My father’s small business was doing well at the time. Then, she got sick and passed away."
Brock glares at me. "I can’t believe she went and died on you. That’s not nice."
"My stepbrother took that as an opportunity to grow closer to me. His name is Nate. After showering, he’d slip into my room and take off his towel. He’d settle onto my bed, talk to me as if everything was all right, and give me a full view of some adult male things that I didn’t want to see."
I tell Brock and Rook everything. From the way Nate told me that I could feel comfortable showing him my body if I desired to the way he showed me his pre-cum from his soft dick that one time.
Brock and Rook’s eyes grow dark. "Did your stepbrother rape you?"
"No. He didn’t actually touch me."
"Did you touch him?"
"No. He didn’t force me to."
Brock foams at the mouth with fury. "Your stepbrother is a piece of shit grooming asshole who had some nerve being such a fucking creep around you when you weren’t even into him like that."
I clutch Brock’s hand. "I wasn’t into him like that at all. I saw him as my stepbrother. He wasn’t supposed to show me his bare dick."
Rook glares at me. "Don’t fucking lie to us. We’ll find out one way or another."
Tears pour down my cheeks. "I’m telling you the truth."
Brock and Rook snarl. "We’ll murder him."
TWENTY-TWO
COLT
My father has always been aloof.
That’s why it’s been so difficult to come to him with anything that I’m feeling.
That’s not the way it’s supposed to be. Brock’s French father has his issue, but he let Brock know from an early age that they could chat like grown men about serious topics. Pussy. Heartbreak. Liquor. Weed. That’s what fathers should do with their sons. Not be pussy ass bitches who can’t even access their own emotions.
My father is Mr. Cold and Unfeeling. You could tell him that his only daughter had been raped and murdered and he wouldn’t bat an eye. Oh, fucking wait. That’s what happened ten years ago.
How did he react? In the most pathetic way possible. He didn’t start drinking. He didn’t start gambling. He didn’t even go postal and blow up his workplace. That’d at least be understandable. It’d show that he felt something even if it was nothing more than pure destruction.
My father chose to shut down his emotions. He doesn’t discuss them. He doesn’thavethem. No matter what goes on around him, he’s the same.
