Page 91 of Deviant Need

“Look at yourself,” he says, forcing my head up so I have to meet my eyes in the mirror. “Look at how wrecked you are on my cock. Drooling into my hand, your own cum dripping out of you while I fuck you open.”

I moan, and my eyes roll back, the image of us reflected in the mirror burned into my brain. His hand is still clamped over my mouth, and his other hand reaches around to wrap around my cock. He strokes me rough and fast, matching the brutal pace of his thrusts.

“Come for me again,” he demands.

A few more strokes and I’m coming again, spilling over his hand and the sink while my hole clenches around him. He buries himself deep and grinds against me as his own orgasm hits, filling me up with his cum mixed with mine. We’re both shaking, gasping for air, and he doesn’t pull out until the last aftershock fades.

He removes his hand from my mouth, and I sag against the sink, completely spent. We’re still catching our breath when we hear voices getting closer outside the bathroom.

We pull apart so fast we almost stumble over each other, frantically yanking our pants up and trying to make ourselves look presentable. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand while Mikhail tucks his shirt back in, and we unlock the door and slip out as casually as we can manage.

We’re barely past the stairs when we walk straight into Yulian. He looks us over, pulls his brows together, and shakes his head. “Come back to the couch. We have more to talk about.”

We exchange a look before following after him and settling onto the couch. Mikhail’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out, glancing at the screen before angling it toward me so I can read the text.

Vincent:

Meet me at the arena tomorrow around noon. Don’t be late, this is important.

Why would Vincent reach out now?

He shrugs. “Can you come with me? I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just about the viral video from my last fight or something.”

“Of course,” I whisper.

Something feels off. Vincent doesn’t waste time on old news, and “important” doesn’t sound casual.

Chapter 21

Mikhail

The arena is empty when we arrive, no one here at all. Daniil looks at me, confused, and I try to give him a reassuring look, my little finger reaching out to brush against his before pulling quickly away. It’s probably just a quick meeting, and then we can leave.

We walk down the steps slowly, looking around us. The cage sits empty in the center of the room, but there’s something white lying in the middle of it. Some sort of note. We come to a stop next to the cage.

“I don’t like this,” Daniil says carefully, his voice tight.

“Me neither. I’ll go look at the note. You can wait here.”

He bites his lip and nods, then walks over to seats near the cage. I head up the metal stairs, the sound echoing in the empty space, and open the cage door. It creaks as I step inside and walk over to pick up the note.

I know what you did.

Written in Russian, nothing else. Not even a signature.

Blinking in confusion, I glance toward Daniil, my mouth opening to ask if he has any idea what this means, when I see our father standing next to him with a gun in his hand. He grips Daniil’s shoulder roughly and shakes his head at me. “I hope you got whatever you needed from my office.”

My entire body freezes. My mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out.

“That little stunt you two pulled at lunch made your mother upset,” he continues. “You both know I don’t tolerate seeing her upset, and I especially do not tolerate my own sons being the cause of it. She has given you everything, and she doesn’t deserve to be disrespected like that.” He pauses, his grip tightening on Daniil’s shoulder until I can see him wince. “Causing a distraction while you slipped upstairs was more strategic than I expected from either of you. Now you will tell me exactly what you were looking for?”

He knows. But how? I don’t understand how he always figures it out. Every single time. How does he keep doing this?

“So, what is it, Daniil?” He looks down at him, the gun points at his head. “Was it that news article? The one about the German family?”

I freeze.

“Father,” I start, taking a step forward.