Page 87

Chapter 32

I will never get over his vision.

Cain sees the world in brush strokes, light, and movement. Turning what the world sees as raw, gritty, and disturbing into something hauntingly beautiful. His realism is a gift many artists would kill for. Particularly his pencil drawings. I’ve seen some of his sketches where, if you didn’t know otherwise, you’d think it was a photograph.

He’s my twisted artist, and I’m his favorite canvas.

Cain brutalizes and carves the pain straight out of my flesh, then tends to the wounds with the utmost care. Until I’ve completely healed, leaving me entirely renewed.

Wrapping the blood-stained sheet over my shoulders, I rise and walk to get a closer look at his sketch. Cain got new bedding after our session; however, some drops made it through his bite marks in the night. His sketches take the brutality and sadism out of it all. To anyone else, the marks on my back look like tattoos. Or just a niche art form. The sketch is clean, with fine lines and perfect shadowing. His graphite work to make the smoke adds a dreamy quality.

BANG!

I jump, turning around on my heel. Dean laughs as he stumbles through the door like he’s been shoved, and I tighten the sheet further around me.

“Dean, what—” I look over Dean, who, as usual, is only in his boxers; then my gaze jumps to Cain. I swallow, his eyes narrowed in on me, his movements slow.

Like a predator.

“Get the fuck over there,” Cain says as he shoves Dean again. Dean walks into me on purpose, gripping one hand over my waist and one around my neck.

“Ready for some fun, Zvyozdochka?” My breath hitches as he leans in, but Cain grabs him by the nape and throws him against the wall next to me.

“Dean, what did you say to him? Ah!” I yelp as Cain grabs my waist and spins me around, pressing my front against the wall.

“I may have embellished a bit.” Dean’s head falls back on the wall, biting down on his lower lip as he watches me with his unreal eye contact.

Nothing makes him uncomfortable.

“Do you have something to confess, Kitten?” Cain fists my sheet, spins it around so it opens at my back, and tugs it down to just above my breasts. I swallow, my gaze flitting from Dean to the wall in front of me.

“I-uh…” I freeze, fighting through my quivering breaths.

“It’s alright, go on. Tell him about us.” Dean’s voice is so close; he’s leaned in. Fingers brush over my neck, then Cain grabs his wrist and slams it to the wall next to my head.

“No touching!” He growls.

“We kissed!” I stiffen when I feel Cain’s hard cock rubbing against my ass. “C-Cain… What are you—” My words are stuck in my throat.

“How many times?” Cain fists himself, controlling the motion as he teases my entrance.

“I-I don’t know!” My words fumble, tripping on my tongue on their way out.

“How many times?” He repeats.

“Uhhh.” My voice. No, my entire body quivers beneath his rough touch and Dean’s unwavering gaze. “On the cliff. When we got back.” I swallow, remembering the night Dean fell into his feelings, got drunk, and climbed on top of me. “The night Dean was drinking… Ahh.” Cain slides his cock inside of me, and I melt against the wall. That was far too easy. How am I so turned on by this? Aren’t I uncomfortable?

“Mmm make her whimper.” Dean’s breathy voice is lowered, heated. If Cain’s goal was to punish Dean, I’m not sure this is the way to do that. He sounds like he’s enjoying himself. I steal a look, then shoot my focus back to the wall. Dean’s eyes are burning a hole in my side.

“Cain… He’s watching me.” I whisper.

“What did you think would happen if you two got together?” Cain grabs my hip to angle me better as he thrusts in and out in a deep, controlled motion. Cain fists my hair by the roots and slams my cheek against the wall, angling my head towards Dean. His chest covers my back, and his tongue licks up and down along the shelf of my ear, then he bites down on the lobe, and I yelp.

My gaze flits over Dean, my mouth opening in a small “o” when I see he’s tenting in his boxers. My gaze flits to his eyes for a beat before I focus on the wall as best I can through Cain’s grip. I feel the heat rise in my neck and over my cheeks. Dean sucks through his teeth and chuckles.

“I knew you liked me, Zvyozdochka.” Cain grips my hair harder at Dean’s words. “You sure you don’t want me to slide over, druzhishche? I don’t have to fuck her; I could just use her pussy. I bet she’ll like it.”

“Shut up—Mm!” I whimper when his fingers slide along my inner thigh, then Cain grabs Dean by the neck and slams him back against the wall next to me. My gaze shoots there, his grip firm around Dean’s neck.