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“Deadly serious,” Ciarán replies, with a wicked grin as he takes a step back, giving her room to move. “Show him how much power you hold over him.”
For a moment, she hesitates, her mind racing with conflicting emotions as she tries to comprehend the weight of what’s being asked of her. Slowly, she gathers her courage and approaches me, the knife held firmly in her hand.
“Okay,” she murmurs, her voice shaky but resolute. “I’ll do it.”
As she draws closer, I can feel the heat of her body, the intoxicating scent of her skin mingling with the scent of our fucking earlier. It’s almost too much, the anticipation building within me like a coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment.
“Are you sure about this, Cathal?” she asks softly, her breath warm against my ear as she reaches out a tentative hand to touch my shoulder, her fingers light and hesitant.
“Yes.”
The scars from my past, remnants of a childhood filled with abuse, are visible to Summer, and I know that she’ll be adding her own mark to this twisted tapestry.
“Get on your knees and carve your name into my skin.”
She doesn’t speak, but I can sense her hesitation, the weight of what I’m asking her to do hanging heavily between us. I keep my gaze fixed on the world outside the window, trying to find solace in the darkness that envelops everything beyond the glass.
Summer’s hands tremble slightly as she positions herself behind me, the cold steel of the knife pressing against my lower back. I take a deep breath, willing myself to remain still, to surrender to this moment and the bond it will forge between us.
“Are you ready?” she asks quietly, her voice wavering under the strain of her emotions.
“Do it.”
The first cut is shallow, tentative, as if she’s testing the waters before diving in. But as she gains confidence, the pressure increases, and the pain intensifies. Hands splayed on the cold glass, I grit my teeth, savoring the delicious agony that comes with each etched letter, knowing that this is as much a part of our connection as the love we share.
With one last cut, she completes her task, my skin a canvas for her mark. As she rises and stumbles back, I can feel the warmth of my blood dripping down my ass and legs; the knowledge that she now owns a part of me that no one else ever will, fills the dark space in my soul that has no comfort.
Turning to face her, my cock stiffening with each passing second, Ciarán grips Summer’s arms, pulling her away from me. She gasps, startled by the sudden interruption. His eyes burn with a feral intensity as he takes in the scene before him.
Ciarán spins Summer around to face him, pushing her against the wall. Her breath hitches, conflict in her eyes - torn between submitting to Ciarán or resisting his advances.
“Please,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can handle any more tonight.”
“Of course you can, Tinks,” Ciarán murmurs, his tone deceptively gentle. But I know my brother well enough to recognize the edge beneath his words. He’s not asking for permission; he’s staking his claim.
His fingers grip her hips roughly.
“Fuck,” she gasps, her body tensing as Ciarán thrusts into her without warning. He holds her up, pounding into her relentlessly as she whimpers.
“Take it, Summer,” Ciarán orders, his voice strained with effort. “Take every fucking inch of my cock. You’re ours now, remember?”
As my brother claims Summer with a raw, primal intensity, it’s both beautiful and terrifying to witness, and I feel a twinge of envy at the depths of their connection.
“Fuck, you’re insatiable,” he grunts, slamming into her even harder. The force of his thrusts pushes her against the wall, and he lifts her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he fucks her mercilessly, but she is tired and her head lolls as my brother takes what he wants from her, regardless.
Summer moans as Ciarán continues to pound into her, her hands fisting at his chest to keep from falling. I watch them, transfixed by the scene before me, my cock growing even harder.
Ciarán’s fingers dig into her hips, his cock buried deep inside her as he fucks her relentlessly. Her eyes flutter as his strokes are harsh and rough.
“Come for me,” he demands, his voice almost a growl. “Come on my cock. I want to feel you come apart in my arms.”
Summer sobs, exhausted, as my brother continues to pound into her.
“Come for me now, Tinks. I’m not waiting for you,” he goads.
“I can’t,” she stammers. “Please.”
“You can, and you will,” Ciarán grunts. “Don’t test me right now, Tinks. I’m not in the mood to be gentle.”
