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They still haven’t held some promises they made. The kind they taunt me with and hold over my head. Like the two of them inside me at the same time.
Ethan has started becoming more demanding, showing me the ways he likes to use me, and I can’t stop thinking about it. This morning, he made me kneel on the floor of the kitchen in nothing but my choker and a small skirt while he was having breakfast. He hand-fed me and made me thank him afterward. My eyes couldn’t leave the bulge in his jeans the whole time. He teased me with it, but ultimately didn’t give me what I craved.
I slam the hood of the van closed, my thighs squeezing. Ethan’s degradation is somehow always perfectly balanced with Elliot’s praise. I’ll never get agood girlfrom Ethan, but Elliot was right there this morning, caressing my hair and telling me how proud he was for listening to his brother. And he fucked me to reward me. He focused on my pleasure, on how much I deserved gratification.
It's a strange balance, yet so perfect.
I walk around the van, taking in the details. I know what it looks like from the inside out, having built in every single add-on to make it faster. There wasn’t much I could do about corners, but this thing is going to do exactly what I need in a straight line, which is the main concern anyway. Enough speed will get anyone off our ass.
“Shit,” I murmur to myself. “You’re done, you little beast.” I tap the hood and go to the kitchen.
Every time I cross this doorway, I remember discovering Ethan covered in blood. This time, it’s only Elliot cooking some noodles for lunch.
I walk past him, going directly for the sink to wash my hands, but his long fingers wrap around my upper arm.
“My love,” he drawls, dropping the wooden spoon he’s holding into the pan. “Don’t ever walk past me without giving me a kiss.”
I giggle like a teenage girl on a date with her crush and push onto my toes to kiss his cheek. He hasn’t shaved in a few days, a blond stubble covering the lower half of his face.
“Scratchy,” I tease as I walk to the sink. He comes behind me, hugging my waist and dropping his head on top of mine.
“Wanna shave me?”
“You’d trust her with a blade near your face?” Ethan walks in, holding a bottle of water and twisting the cap back on. “A desperate need to die, maybe?”
With a snort, I grab a tea towel to dry my hands. I turn around in Elliot’s arms, my back now resting on the counter. “I have good news.”
A hand sneaks to my side, grabbing my jaw and pulling my head until Ethan can drop a kiss on my lips.
“I’m listening.”
“The van is done.” I smile brightly at both, feeling giddy. “I want to take it for a ride. A race, more specifically.”
They pause, eyeing each other and doing that thing where they communicate silently.
“Hello. I’m right here. Care to share your thoughts?”
Ethan nods subtly, and Elliot takes a step back, running his hand through his hair. “Well, the last time Ethan went to one of your races, someone died. It was ugly as fuck too.”
“He said some really rude things to her. What was I meant to do?” The way he says this sounds like a child justifying giving the dog candy because it looked like it wanted some.
“Not kill him?” I suggest, right at the same time as Elliot says, “Clean up your own mess?”
Right, it seems we have different ways of dealing with things.
“I have to test that van in a straight line, and there’s nothing like a drag race for that.”
“We’ll have to bet some money so we don’t have to give it away if we lose,” Elliot says.
I look up, narrowing my eyes at him as I cross my arms over my chest. “I do notloseraces, Elliot. That word isn’t even in my fucking vocabulary so take it back before I cut your fucking tongue.”
Ethan whistles. “Damn, our girl is feeling feisty today.”
Elliot chuckles, grazing my cheek with his knuckles. “Yeah. I think the effects of her humbling session with you this morning didn’t last into the afternoon.”
My heart drops to my stomach, my thighs tightening out of my control. I drop my arms to my sides as my feet shift, but I can’t step back since the counter is behind me.
Elliot laughs when he notices my reaction. “Still feeling like snapping at me?”
