Page 8 of Bred Hard

“Look at you peeping like a dirty whore.” He leaned in, his teeth catching on my earlobe. “Like mother. Like daughter.”

The deep timbre of his words coated the air, captivating yet dangerous. An inexplicable allure that sent shivers down my spine and hitched my breath. Still on my toes, Silas’s hand found their rightful place, and he slipped a finger inside.

“Open those legs for me, you little shit.” He teased, shoving another thick digit inside my pussy. “That’s it. You like watching mother get fucked hard as you get your jail pussy played with. Don’t you?”

I could barely control myself as he fingered me, good and hard. My legs weakened and my chest rose with each breath. Mother’s voice pierced through the window, her moans like a siren. The pool boy had her straddling him, facing cowgirl as he pumped into her like a broken hydraulic cylinder.

Silas slid his hand from my mouth down to my breast. “Are you wet because I’m fingering you or because you’re watching Mother get fucked like a whore?”

My soul was on fire. His touch and words igniting me like a wild blaze. My eyes shuttered closed as a whiff of air swelled my lungs, and Silas removed his fingers. Devastated, I opened my eyes and nearly choked as he shoved the two fingers into my mouth, forcing me to taste my juices.

"I'll fuck you so hard that you'll beg me to stop with every breathin your body," he warned fiercely, and then planted a gentle kiss on my forehead. “But I won’t stop. I promise you.”

With his last words dangling in the air, he retreated down the opposite hallway just as our father’s voice boomed around the corner. Not bothering to acknowledge Silas as he marched off, Father kept his gaze on me, and I swallowed down the lump in my throat. Fixing my clothes so he wouldn’t notice, I pulled on the hem of my floral dress and smoothed out my ponytail. I didn’t want him to know I was just finger-fucked and threatened. A hint of warmth shone in his gray eyes and he turned his attention to the unfamiliar man at his side.

The two of them talked business before breaking their conversation to acknowledge me.

“This is my daughter, Tabitha. The future head of Santoro Real Estate.”

“Nice to meet you, Tabitha,” the man said.

I forced a sweet smile and extended my hand. Just like the good girl Mother trained me to be. From the corner of my eye, I spotted a broad chest. It belonged to Sawyer, and the scathing expression etched into his features was clear as day. I placed my hands in front of my dress and turned my knee inward as I faked a laugh and broadened the faux smile spread across my lips. Wedged between my father and the mystery man, we walked to the front of the house where the car was waiting. Father asked if I wanted to come to the office with him and I gladly agreed. Anything to piss off the boys further.

As my father and his colleague strode three steps ahead, my confident stride came to an abrupt halt, interrupted by a merciless tug on my ponytail.

“Count your days, you little two-faced cock whore,” Sawyer breathed into my ear before letting my hair slip through his taut grasp, followed by a shove.

With my stride disrupted, I took a moment to regain mycomposure, feeling the throb of my scalp slowly subside. I jutted my chin to the side, far enough for Sawyer to take notice.

“I can’t wait to meet the staff, Daddy. Since I’ll be taking over soon.”

Chapter 6

Sawyer

A

s we watched Tabitha hop like a slutty bunny behind father and the mystery man, I leaned into the doorframe and eyed them climbing into the dark tinted SUV.

“I hate her,” Silas said from behind me.

I lifted off the frame and turned to face him. “I know. We both do.” Letting a smile slip over my lips, I punched his arm and headed toward the staircase.

“Wanna ball real quick? The few calls I had were cancelled, so I’m free.”

“Sure thing,” I said, as I made my way to my room.

Every time I stepped inside my childhood room, a dark nostalgia washed over me as the distant memories reared up to surround me. Old business books sat atop a bookcase, along with medals and plaques from different clubs and sports that sucked my soul dry, but made our father proud. As I approached the dresser in search of a pair of clean basketball shorts, I realized how hollow our lives were. Most kids’ rooms were filled with positive memories, and photos of them smiling with best friends by their side. Not for us, though. The moment we were born, our fates were sealed. To become part of the Santoro empire by any meansnecessary.

Silas’s room mirrored mine. His farthest wall housed business and law books, not a photo of him to be found in the large dreary room. I pulled off my business attire and slipped into the shorts and a pair of limited-edition Air Jordans. While lacing my shoes, the doorbell rang, and it piqued my interest.

“Who the hell is at the door?” Silas asked as he joined me at the bottom of the stairs.

No one ever rung our front doorbell. It was an unwritten rule in our house. Presentation was everything to my father, and that included the visitors standing on his grand stone porch. Service and maintenance used the back entrance at all times, and everyone else used the side entrance. With a mix of trepidation and curiosity, I opened the front door, and once I saw the shrewd smirk staring Silas and me in the face, it made sense. Ryker Lawson.The delinquent asshole from hell and Silas’s friend.

“You invited the mentally ill?” I joked as I brushed past Silas on my way to the courtyard.

“Well, I don’t like the sound of that. Makes me seem all unhinged,” Ryker said as he strode through the grand entrance.

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