The blade flashes.
Mark gasps as steel sinks into his side. Blood blooms dark and fast across his shirt as he slumps back with a broken, wet sound. But I don’t stop. Not when Kross’s grip in my hair tightens, shoving his cock deeper into my throat like he’s done pretending to be polite.
“Oh no you don’t. You’re going to fucking watch,” Kade says coldly. “You don’t get to fucking look away. No, you’re going to witness every goddamn second ofourAeri, choking on his cock.”
Kross laughs softly above me, low and pleased. “Hear that?” he murmurs. “Guess we should show him exactly what the fuck he’s missing then.”
His hand fists harder at my scalp and he drives in so deep it punches the back of my throat. I have to grab his jeans with both hands just to stay upright as he fucks my mouth again and again, stretching my jaw until it burns like hell.
“Breathe, little valentine,” he murmurs. “That’s it. Such a good fucking girl. God—your throat feels so fucking good.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t stop him. Don’t even think about it. Because holy shit, this might be the hottest, most unhinged moment of my entire fucked-up life. Being used like this while my cheating ex is forced to watch? Swallowing a killer’s cock while he bleeds out on a dirty bathroom floor, knowing this is the last thing he’ll ever see?
Yeah. That should probably horrify me.
Instead, I’m fucking soaked.
Like,what the actual fuck is wrong with melevels of wet. And the fact that my brain is screamingHoly shit, I like thiswhile everything in this room is objectively wrong? That’s… alarming. And also kind of fucking incredible.
“Fucking hell,” Kross grunts, slamming into me once more before suddenly hauling me upright without warning and steering me toward the sink.
He bends me over, yanks my jeweled thong aside, and drags his swollen tip through me. Swirling it through his brothers cum and my arousal. “Oh fuck,” I cry, gripping the porcelain as my eyes meet his in the mirror.
“I fuckingknewI smelled sex in here.” He smirks toward Kade, the realization clicking the second he clocks me already full of his brother’s cum. And because he’s Kross, because he can’t help himself, his hand comes down on my ass hard enough that the crack echoes off the tile.
Then he snaps his hips forward.
“Goddamn—Jesus Christ,” he groans. “You’re tight, little valentine.” He pauses just long enough to savor it, breath catching, before starting to move again. “You gonna choke my fucking cock with this pretty cunt, baby?”
Our eyes lock again in the mirror. His hand slides up, wraps around my throat, and he leans in close, breath hot against my ear.
“Eyes on him,” he orders quietly. “I want him to see exactly what it looks like when you come undone for me.”
Mark struggles again.
Kade doesn’t hesitate—another swift, punishing strike of the blade.
“I said sit,” he snaps. “And watch. I think our audience is getting bored, brother.” A beat and I can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “Give him something exciting to hold his focus before he bleeds out. Somethingmemorableand make sure you make her scream.”
Kross’s hand slides from my throat to my hip, grounding and claiming all at once, while his other reaches around and yanks my bra down. My pierced nipples spring free, the cool bathroom air hitting them hard enough to make me gasp. When he feels the barbells, his grip tightens possessive, unforgiving, and therhythm of his thrusts turns brutal. Relentless. Like he’s decided restraint is no longer worth the effort.
“Fuck—harder,” I cry, the words tearing out of me without permission, my gaze locked on Mark the entire time.
Beside him, Kade doesn’t move much. He doesn’t need to. The blade is already in his hand, already slick, already doing the work. He watches Mark the way a professional watches a clock, waiting.
Mark’s eyes find mine again, and this time there’s no confusion left in them. No anger. No entitlement. Just fear. Raw and naked and humiliating. The realization has finally landed—this isn’t a threat, this isn’t intimidation. This is the end.
Blood keeps soaking through his shirt, spreading darker, heavier, dripping down his side and onto the tile. His breaths turn shallow, uneven, each one worse than the last.
Kade glances down at the wound, then back up at Mark’s face. Calm. Detached.
“You’ve got minutes,” he says flatly. “Maybe less, if you keep fucking bleeding like that.”
Mark makes a broken sound in his throat, something wet and useless, and spits blood onto the floor.
Kade smirks at that. He wipes the blade clean across Mark’s shirt—slow, deliberate—then straightens and steps toward me. When he reaches us, he lifts the knife and uses it to tip my chin up, forcing my mouth to his.
Kross doesn’t slow. Doesn’t stop. He keeps slamming into me from behind, every thrust sharp and punishing, dragging me higher whether I’m ready or not.
