Page 80 of The Pact

Damian and Wesley shoot Sutton an annoyed glare. My eyes bore into Damian, waiting for an answer. “We simply talk about how we’re all feeling about the situation. It helps prevent or resolve any problems. If someone is feeling neglected, we work together to make sure that person gets some more time with you. When we told you we share everything, we meant it.”

My spoon clinks loudly against the bowl. “Shouldn’t I be a part of these meetings? Don’t I get a say?” It’s coming out harsh, but this feels wrong. We share everything. Fuck. “Tell me you don’t talk to each other about the things we’ve done.” I look between Cole and Sutton, who both glance in different directions. “You’re all perverts. Do you get off on hearing about me humping Sutton in his bookstore or riding Cole’s hand at my apartment? Because if that’s the case, I’ll just write it all down. I’ll keep a diary of everything each of you do. Although don’t be surprised if I make some notes on how you can improve.”

By the time I’m done, my chest is heaving.

“Princess, we haven’t gone into all of those details, but thank you for the visuals.” Damian smirks as he taunts me. “Like I said, we want to make sure that no one feels neglected.”

My mouth sets in a scowl. “You can’t move me around like a piece on a chessboard. Cole’s had enough of me, so give me to Sutton. Sutton’s bored, so shift me to Damian.” I’m glancing around at all of them, expecting defensiveness or remorse at the very least. Instead, they all look amused, even Wesley has, dare I say, a slight smirk tugging at this mouth. “What’s so entertaining?”

Damian steps towards me. I pull away as he reaches out. “Nothing, it’s just so damn cute watching you get all riled up over wanting to be included, princess.” He leans even closer and my breath catches. Damian doesn’t get this close to me with the other guys around usually. It surprises me.

His thumb swipes at the corner of my mouth, pulling away with a smear of whipped cream.

I stare at it. For a moment, I think about dragging my tongue over his skin, tasting that sweetness mixed with him. I imagine sucking his thumb into my mouth… Oh god.

I’m biting my bottom lip and my eyes flick up to his. He has more courage than me. He slips it between his lips, tasting that sweet cream that was on my mouth moments before.

The air between us is strung tight. I don’t care that there’s anyone else in the kitchen. I want to slide my hands under his shirt, feeling his skin under my palms as I wrap my legs around his waist. My heart and breath speed up. He notices and gives me a devilish grin.

Damian leans forward, pushing my thighs apart. He braces a hand on the island, his fingers brushing against my leg as he does. Dropping his mouth to my ear, he whispers, “Keep being a good girl, showing us how much you want this, and I’ll make sure to include you in future meetings. Sound good?”

That momentary desire for him flees. Keep being a good girl? Damian takes a step away, heading towards his room. My jaw tightens as I feel the words bubble up in my throat. I can get under his skin as much as he gets under mine.

Good girl… princess… I think it’s time to give him a taste of his own medicine. After all, Sutton said Damian likes a little push back.

I tilt my head, watching him walk away, but as his hand turns the doorknob, I call out, “Damian. Keep being a good boy, showing me how much control I have over you and I’ll keep showing you how much I want this. Sound good?” The last part I say with big doe eyes and a sweet smile.

“Oh fuck,” Sutton groans out. I think all of them are expecting Damian to lash out. He won’t.

See, I’ve figured it out. He craves control. However, without me, without his brothers, he would have none of that. We are all trusting him with it, but we can take it away at any moment. And that realization sends a rush of power to my head. He won’t disrupt the balance too much, it could cost him everything.

The kitchen has gone silent. While my gaze is locked on the back of Damian’s head, I can see the others looking between each other—tension weighing the air down.

Glancing over his shoulder, just slightly, he calmly replies. “You’re going to regret that, princess.” I’m almost terrified at the way he says it, then I catch that devious smile playing at his lips before he disappears into his room.

Fuck, I’m playing a dangerous game.

DAMIAN

Shutting the door behind me, I lean my back against it. I run my hand over my hard cock. Damn her, she knows exactly what to do to get me going. That bratty fucking attitude needs some adjusting, but I’m at a standstill until my brothers give her all they’ve got.

Until then, I have to put up with her wicked little mouth.

I breathe out. The more she pushes me, the more her punishment is going to hurt. I pull open the door to my right, stepping into my closet and turning on the light.

At first glance, there’s nothing special about it aside from the designer clothes and shoes neatly organized. At the center of the room is a large rectangular case, usually intended to hold jewelry, sunglasses, and other accessories. While I have those things in the top compartments, the lower ones hold something entirely different.

I pull open a drawer I haven’t touched in a long time. Inside there’s a row of my preferred impact tools. My fingers run over a paddle, then a braided flogger, and finally, a cane.

I smile, thinking about bending Thea over and taking that flogger to her ass. I picture her skin angry and red at my work. That will come in due time—hopefully. She has to get through Wes first and depending on his disposition with her, that might be enough to scare her away.

For her first punishment, I’ll start light. My hand will do. My fingers flex in impatience.

Thea will either learn to be my good girl—obedient and respectful. Or she can continue acting bratty and get punished for it. My actions depend on hers. I’ll enjoy fucking her either way.

Shutting the drawer, I glance at the closed door on the far side of my closet. Don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s too soon to let that kind of hope dig its claws in. I head into my room and sit at my computer.

The handful of unread emails draws my attention. I click open the one from my client—it’s probably the most important. Reading over it, I make a mental note of the issues they’re having with their software. Interface glitching. Database performance. Corrupted data. I rub my temples, trying to remind myself this is all for the greater good.

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