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“Yes. He left you twenty million dollars. All to you.” Jericho’s lips slowly work against mine as his tongue gains entry. He moans into my mouth, rocking against my hips until I’m gasping into his mouth.
“Why now?” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut. “Why would I get it now?”
“That’s the problem, Kitten,” Arrow says in a soothing voice from beside me. “It was given to you years ago…”
“But you were a minor,” Jericho says.
“A minor?” I ask, furrowing my brows. “When?”
The bed dips next to us as Arrow lies back, bringing himself level with me.
“You were sixteen when they showed up,” Arrow hums, working a finger down my cheek.
“Showed up?” I swallow hard, attempting to think back to the time I was sixteen, but it’s overshadowed by my days of living in a cage. “I don’t remember…” If I was sixteen and didn't remember…
There’s only one thing that comes to mind—my monster. That's the year he took me unconscious into his basement and left me there to rot. Then, something changed his mind, and he kept me alive. I was so fucking sure he was going to end me.
Jericho rocks against me again, pulling my mind from the darkness and panic on the verge of taking over. There’s a reason my mother just handed me to my monster. Sure, he insisted I had to pay for my bad deeds, but he could have murdered me.
But he didn’t, did he? He kept me alive, training me to be his little spy. For what? My money.
“Where were you, Journey? Where did he take you?” Jericho murmurs, kissing my other cheek with soft pecks. “Tell me,” he demands, grinding himself against my core.
Fuck.
This is worse than torture. He’s winding me up and begging for answers, and I’m helpless.
My back arches slightly when his fingers twirl over my clit. Fireworks spark beneath my eyes, and I gasp.
“A basement,” I gasp out.
What basement, though? I have my suspicions. If I could hear Jericho playing his melodies through the walls, then there's only one place he could have taken me. Here. In this house..
My head fills with static when his fingers softly brush against my clit in tiny circles but not using any sort of pressure.
“A basement?” Arrow asks with confusion.
“I need answers, Little Chaos. I need you to tell me everything about that time he took you to the basement. Please,” he murmurs.
“Tit for tat,” I whine, curling my fingers into fists.
“Fair enough,” he chuckles, continuing to torture my clit. “My father tortured me, too. He left me in a darkened closet when he got drunk enough. Claimed it was for my own well-being and that it’d turn me into a better man to conquer my fears. It did none of that. It made me resent him and loathe him. But I stuck by his side until he started showing signs of paranoia.”
My eyes slowly flutter open despite the pressure building in my lower stomach. Tears form in my eyes at the injustices we’ve endured at the hands of Gabriel Viotto. Even his own flesh and blood couldn’t outrun his wicked hands.
“He locked me in a cage in the basement and left me in the dark for three whole days,” I whisper, swallowing hard when Jericho completely stills on top of me. The room fades away when his brows furrow and sadness rings in his eyes. “You played the violin so beautifully.”
Unwanted tears fall from my eyes, carving their way down my cheeks at the memories of the boy who kept me going with the sounds of his violin through the walls. Every day, I counted down until I heard his tunes.
Jericho curses under his breath, gently setting his lips on mine. “Okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay, I promise.” He leans his forehead against mine, picking up speed with his fingers until an orgasm blasts through me, and I cry out. He slows his pace, pulling his fingers away. “I married you because whatever happened, your mom sold you. Your brothers got scared your mom was only out for the money and would steal it from you. So, they put a stipulation on it and threw it into a trust. You get the money when you’re either twenty-one, or if you’re above eighteen and married.”
“You should tell her the part where you married her before you knew that information,” Arrow so helpfully points out, laughing when Jericho sends him a glare.
“Fuck off,” Jericho growls, throwing a punch that doesn’t land.
Arrow cackles, rolling around on the bed. “Missed me, Daddy Jer,” he says, goading him while sticking out his tongue.
“Why?” I ask, bringing Jer back to the conversation.
