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MARIUS
Ican’t help it. I watch it again. Her deep, light brown eyes stare up in shock. Her slightly parted lips pout. Then my cum flies right to her pretty face. It’s priceless. The porn industry has never filmed a money shot as amazing as this one. Because for one, it’s completely real. Her surprise. Her amazement at my sheer size, her fascination with the way I pump my dick.
Her fear.
And yes, I acknowledge that is a turn-on, too. I never said I was sane.
One of my hands beats my cock fast as I jerk off in bed, the phone firmly clasped in the other.
It’s been three days and I must have come to that video half a dozen times already. More if you count the shower this morning, when I was thinking about her rather than watching us.
I could kiss my sister-in-law for filming us. Maybe I will, just to fuck with Magnus. He might love giving her away, but he hates sharing with his brothers.
It’s not like me to choose my hand over a live pussy, and god knows I’ll find many willing ones if I make my way downstairs.
Out of the seven houses in Rothford, the Shark House is likely the only one almost always open to the public. The rest of the twisted fuckers prefer to lock their gates and give in to their many perversions in private.
We keep our doors open nearly every day, outside of the athletic challenges we run once a month. The Shark House is well known for throwing legendary ravers better than any college party.Every damn day.
Freshman year, I loved it. Now that I’m a junior, I still do most of the time, but there’s no denying that it does get monotonous. Sometimes, a man wants a damn early night in.
But all of that to say, there are no doubt dozens of chicks who’d happily get on their knees and let me come on their faces.
They’d let me. They wouldn’t glare. They certainly wouldn’t look surprised, or afraid. They wouldn’t fight me.
They wouldn’t have her mouth or long lashes, or her fucking tiger eyes.
My door opens without warning, though guests aren’t allowed on the upper floor and my housemates know better than to come in without invitation.
What the fuck?
I don’t have time to hide my throbbing hard-on before an unbearably self-satisfied dick strolls in like the place—along with the entire world—belongs to him.
I say it out loud. “What the fuck?”
My brother—or half-brother, depending on the day of the week. Definitely half today—doesn’t spare me a glance or a word, heading to my closet.
He pulls out one of my few button downs and tosses it at me along with slacks.
“Mind telling me what you’re doing in my fucking dorm room, Markus?”
“Father called,” my little brother says, his tone final, like he needs no other justification. He is correct. “You’d know if you weren’t too busy using your phone for porn.”
Shit.
I get to my feet in record time.
No wonder he picked the kind of clothes I’d only wear when pressed. If Eriks Goltz has summonedbothof us, then we have a problem.
We could have been called for anything, from having to hide a body to having to talk our mother out of shaving her head again. And honestly? I prefer the first over the second.
“What’s up?” I ask, pulling the pants on without bothering with underwear. “Is Ma okay?”
Ma might be my biological mother, but she raised him and Magnus as her own, so she’s their mom too.She even chose their name. Marcella Goltz was previously Marcella Keller, daughter of a history professor with a fascination for all manner of panhellenic things.
Right now, I can’t imagine many reasons why our father would contact Markus and me, except for Ma’s wellbeing. It was different when we were eighteen, going through training during our volun-told gap year. But we’re not involved in his business—not yet.
I can’t imagine that things could go so badly in the bratva that he’d have to get us involved at this point in time. My father is a man of his word, and he gave us all four years of freedom.
