“Look at you,” Kross murmurs against my ear before taking the lobe between his teeth. “Taking everything we give you like you were fucking made for it.”
Holy hell.
The bathroom feels wrong now. Too tight and loud. Too fucking alive. The bass outside is still pounding, but it feels distant, muted, like we’ve slipped into our own pocket of fucking chaos where nothing else matters.
Behind us, Mark’s breathing breaks apart completely—wet, panicked, and rattling. He’s slumped against the wall now, barely upright, eyes glassy as his body starts to give up.
I finally look away and bring my eyes to Kade as he lowers the handle of the blade between my legs, pressing the cool metal against my clit. I hiss at the contact, my hips shifting away but Kross’s grip only tightens, holding me exactly where they both want me.
Kade smirks, then slowly starts, teasing, almost gentle, then faster, syncing perfectly with the brutal rhythm of his brother’s thrusts as his free hand pinches my nipple. Twisting and turning the barbell between his fingers.
Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck me.
A soft moan slips out of me before I can stop it.
Both of them catch it instantly.
Kade’s eyes flick to Kross behind me. Kross grins, feral and pleased.
“There it is,” he growls. “That sweet fucking sound.”
“Come on, valentine,” Kade says quietly. “Give it to us. Let Marky boy here see what it looks like when your pretty cunt comes at the hands of killers.”
He glances back at Mark for half a second, almost like he’s bored.
“Let that sight be the last fucking thing he sees before he dies.”
That’s all it takes.
The danger. The revenge. The fucked-up, euphoric awareness that I’m not just being fucked—I’m being claimed.Owned.The knowledge that this man who hurt me is watching his world collapse while mine explodes.
Fuck.
I come hard.
It hits me like a goddamn typhoon, my whole body spasming as Kross slams into me one final time and finds his own release. Kade’s mouth crashes onto mine, swallowing my cries and grounding me as Kross’s cock throbs deep inside me.
And then, just as I’m starting to come down from my high, movement against the wall catches my eye as Mark’s body finally gives up.
He slides down the wall slowly, like gravity is the last thing claiming him. His head lolls, as he collapses onto the floor in a heap, blood pooling beneath him.
Kade watches for a long beat. Silent. Assessing.
Then, with his cock still buried deep inside me, Kross lets out a low, satisfied hum and sings, “Another one bites the dust,” rolling his hips just enough to make my breath hitch and my legs threaten to give out all over again.
Kross finally pulls back, careful this time, hands staying on me until my legs remember how to work. Kade’s already at the sink, grabbing paper towels, wetting them, wiping me down with quick, efficient movements that feel oddly grounding after everything else.
I let out a breath that turns into a laugh that’s soft at first, then a little hysterical.
“What the fuck is this night?” I mutter.
Kross snorts, tugging my clothes back into place with a familiarity that shouldn’t exist yet somehow fucking does. “Valentine’s,” he says lightly. “Always messy.”
Kade straightens and finally looks past me.
At the body.
Blood on the tile. The wall. The very obvious, very dead problem slumped on the floor.
