“Jude can do you next, if you like?” I suggest in a breathy voice, feeling my release inch closer at the idea. I never said I wasn't a sick bastard too. Jude's vision must be spotting by now, but I feel his lips lift at my comment. He likes to bait his brother just as much as the rest of us.
“Fuck off,” Aeron snarls, slamming his glass down hard enough to shatter, the pieces skittering across the polished wood floor, before storming out of the room. I don't miss the hard length in his own pants, or that he heads to the basement door.
I finally let Jude up to breathe, and he gasps down air, chuckling before sucking me down again as he works my base with a corkscrew motion that he knows drives me wild.
“You two have a fucking death wish,” Knox says, shaking his head as he adjusts himself, setting his glass aside.
“Don't let us stop you from taking care of yourself,” I groan out, my head falling back as I let the waves of ecstasy that Jude's mouth is causing flow over me.
A few moments of the slurping and sucking sounds that Jude's making fills the space before I hear a mumbled, “fuck it,” and I crack my eyes open to see Knox pulling out his impressive length and gripping it in a tight fist.
I buck my hips at the sight, appreciating the erotic image as he watches us, pumping his hand up and down his hard dick.
My hand tightens in Jude's hair, my hips thrusting forward as I pour my release down his throat and he swallows every damn drop like he's desperate for it. My chest heaves and he doesn't let up, licking and sucking until I chuckle and push him away. It's just too damn much.
Sitting back on his heels with a smug as fuck grin, I see his own climax glistening on his beautiful, chiselled stomach, his dick softening in his lap.
“Oh, fuck!” Knox grunts out, and we both look over to see hot cum spurt out of his tip, covering his abs and chest, his T-shirt raised. It's a beautiful sight, the pleasure on his face is almost enough to make me hard again.
“Want me to clean you up, big boy?” Jude asks, licking his freshly fucked lips. Knox huffs out a laugh, his own closed lids lifting as a sexy, satisfied smile graces his lips.
“What is your obsession with my dick?”
“It's just so big and pretty,” Jude pouts, then faces me fully and bats his lashes. “Variety is the spice of life, after all.”
“Brat,” I tell him again, leaning forward and placing a kiss on his puffy mouth, loving that my taste lingers there.
Knox just laughs again—cocky fucker—before getting up.
“I'm going to go clean up,” he tells us, heading to the stairs that lead up to our rooms.
“Nightingale will get him to share the cock love,” Jude says aloud, getting up himself and cracking his neck. “You coming to bed?” He looks down at me, and I shake my head. “Suit yourself,” he replies with a shrug, turning around and heading upstairs too.
I wait for a long time in the darkened room, my eyes locked on the door to the basement, but Aeron doesn't emerge. Eventually, I give up, going to bed in the small hours with dreams of a small, beautiful bird of paradise trapped in a glass cage.
“PANIC ATTACK” BY LIZA ANNE
LARK
I lose track of time, lying in the darkness with just my monsters to keep me company, caressing my soul with their vile fingers. There's something about being in a coffin, a glass coffin with my name on it—well, my new nickname anyway—that allows my demons freer access. I drift between realities, losing myself in the dark nightmares of my past.
The day my mother was murdered by Tailor pigs plagues me, and I'm transported back to the time when I lost more than a beloved parent. My innocence was taken then too, I was foreverfucking changed and discovered firsthand the demons that men possess and unleash on the unsuspecting.
A whimper escapes my lips, the sound bouncing back off the glass and sending me further into my spiraling thoughts.
Like a reel from a movie, all the times my father used my body as a reward for his gang members flashes in my mind's eye in brilliant technicolor. I can't stop them, the feel of unwanted hands and cocks ghosting over my body until I'm trembling and sweaty all over.
“Please,” I beg in a broken whisper, my fists clenching in the soft silk at my sides as my panic takes root and spots dance in my vision. “Please leave me alone.”
I don't know why I bother, my pleas have always fallen on deaf ears before. My heart pounds and tears leak down the sides of my face as I see more men, all taking what was never freely given.
“Breathe, Dove,” a deep voice murmurs near my head, and I turn to stare out of the glass, but it's too dark and I can't see.
“I–I—” I start, gasping for breath. “C–can't.”
Silence greets my ears, just my rasping as air saws in and out of my straining lungs.
“In, Dove,” the voice orders a moment later, the tone firm and enough to penetrate the panic fluttering at the edges of my vision. “And out. That's all it is. Follow me.”
