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The thought leaves a sour taste.
I hear the sound of a zipper, stark in the quiet of the room.
“I’m not in the mood for you to fuck me right now,” I say.
“I’m not fucking you, Mackenzie. I’m going to come all over your ass and hairbrush. It’s still sticking so very prettily out of your pussy.”
He grunts, and he must have been primed because I only hear a couple of strokes before hot, sticky splashes hit my skin. He comes with a long, drawn-out groan, and then all I hear is his panting. I turn to look at him, and he’s staring at me, admiring his handiwork like the freak he is.
Then he takes his phone out and snaps a shot of me like this.
“What the actual fuck, Kirill?” I shout. “I thought I’d made myself clear about how I felt about you guys taking videos and pictures of me without my permission.”
He stares at me, his eyes glittering with anger. “Don’t worry, Mackenzie Doll, it’s only for Dom and Tino. They need to understand that I am part of this, too.”
I realize immediately that if he sends that picture, it is going to be World War Three between the men. They have this strange, fragile balance between them. This thing could so easily fall apart, and Kirill doing this shatters the illusion that it’s all happy families between us.
“No, Kirill, don’t.” My voice is laced with panic.
“Mackenzie. Chill. I will tell them if they share this then they are indeed dead.”
His English isn’t the best in this instance, but I know what he means. “That’s not what I am bothered about. I mean, I am. Any of you share it, and I’ll kill you. That’s not an empty promise.”
He puts one big hand on my lower back. “Christ, Duchess, don’t say things like that. I’m getting hard again. I love that you say this thing and you could do it. It is such a turn-on.”
“Kirill, if you send that, you’re going to spark a big fight between you three, and they are your best friends.”
“You don’t know us as well as you think you do,” he says. “They will like to see this. I am marking my territory. This is allowed in our rules.”
Then he hits send because I hear the swoosh sound of a message going.
“God, untie me now.” I pull on the restraints again.
“I will, but first I must ease your discomfort.” He pulls the hairbrush gently from me and pets my pussy as if he’s soothing me. “Good girl,” he murmurs. “Now wait there.”
It’s not like I have much choice. I’m still tied up. He vanished into my bathroom, and the hollow trickle of water running meets my ears. A moment later, he returns with a wet washcloth.
“First, I clean you.”
He places the cloth on my skin. It’s still warm from the water, and he carefully uses it to wipe his cum from my skin. He’s gentle and caring, watching me adoringly with every stroke.
Then he unties me. When I am free from the restraints, I turn on him. “Sometimes, Kill, you’re a fucking sociopath.”
“No. I am not. I can feel empathy, and pain, and hurt.”
“I don’t know if that makes it worse.” I get dressed quickly.
“Mackenzie. I wanted to claim you after you gave yourself to them for a night each. I take this you have given me as a gift. Now, I must go meet with my father. He might kill me. I don’t wish to go while you are in this mood.”
“Mood?” I shake my head. “I’m not in a mood, Kirill. I’m trapped in a lunatic situation with three lunatic men.”
“You hate me.” His face is so sad I almost laugh.
I don’t, though. Instead, like the idiot I am, I sigh and take hold of his face. “I don’t hate you. I don’t hate any of you. I do think you’re all kinds of fucked up, though.”
“Kiss me,” he says, suddenly sounding lost.
I do. I kiss him, gently and long. It’s not passion and fireworks but long, lazy summer days, and warmth and happiness. The kiss is oddly innocent when juxtaposed with what we just did.
