Page 41 of Mischief Mayhem

Castor softened his features and held out his palm to spit in it before holding it out to me, a symbol of our youth. When we were kids, we’d seen the spit-shake in a movie and, to this day, there was no terms of agreement more sacred between me and the twins. I did the same and slapped our palms together, sealing the deal.

“One of my clients tried to abduct me. . . when I was in the city.”

“Fucking hell, V.” He sighed and ran his hands back through his dark, curly hair. “Tell me everything.”

I did, explaining to him how Curtis followed me to the club, terrorized me outside of my house, and eventually trapped me with far worst intentions than what had actually happened. It was the reason I’d packed up my bags and come home.

“He had that look in his eye,” I said, rubbing a hand over my scar.

“The soulless eyes? Like old man Robbers?” Castor asked, mentioning the recluse that lived down the street from our childhood home. He likely had been an aging widower who could no longer care for his house, but as the building deteriorated around him, our childish imaginations ran away with us and turned him into our own real-life version of Boo Radley.

“Yeah,” I said. “Except he actually fucked me up, instead of just looking scary.”

Castor shifted his focus to me. “Why don’t you want Dad to know? We shoulda taken care of this fucker as soon as you got home.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t want Dad involved.” I sighed and went to the cabinet, retrieving bread so I could make lunch for both of us. “The Roses don’t know the meaning of the word ‘subtle.’ I just want to forget it ever happened. I didn’t think he knew who I was or where to find me.”

“You’re on the internet as a domme,” he said. “Anyone can see anything they want.” He didn’t mean the words to be vicious or condescending, only truthful.

“No one knows my real name,” I said. “No one sees my face. Ever. He shouldn’t have been able to find me. He shouldn’t know where Crimson headquarters is.”

“Give me a few minutes.” Castor went into hyper-focus, ignoring me while he worked. I made us both sandwiches and placed his down in front of him before pouring chips next to it. We ate in silence while I scrolled on social media, and I tried to hide my excitement when a text from Hollywood came through.

Hollywood: Are we still on for tonight?

I bit my lip and replied back.

Me: Yes.

Hollywood: I have to swing by the clubhouse. Will you be there?

“Are you heading to the clubhouse after this?” I asked my brother.

He furrowed his brows and muttered a quiet, “Yeah,” while he typed on my laptop.

Me: Castor and I are heading over in a little bit.

It would have been easy for me to leave well enough alone and wait until I got to the clubhouse to mess with Hollywood, but where would be the fun in that?

Me: Were you a good boy today?

Hollywood: The best.

Me: Hmm, show me.

The response bubbles appeared . . . then disappeared. My heart sank. Had I stepped too far? Had I been too pushy? Just as I went to type a retraction, explaining he could show me later, a video came through. Not even thinking about it, I hit play. Hollywood’s moans filled the kitchen, and I hastily clicked the power button to shut off my screen, my cheeks burning, my eyes wide. But it was too late; the damage had been done.

Castor stared at me, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead. “What the fuck was that?”

“Nothing,” I said, shooting to my feet. “Let me know when you’re leaving. I’ll go with you.”

“Okay, weirdo,” he said with a laugh, returning to his mission with my laptop.

I walked to my bedroom, into my bathroom, as far away from my brother as I could get, and turned the volume down low on my phone. Then, I hit play again, my eyes glued to the screen as I watched Hollywood stroke his cock.

“This is what you do to me, Mistress,” he moaned, his fist sliding over his velvet skin, yanking on the tip to scoop up his precum before going back to the shaft. “I can’t wait for you. I need you.” His moans grew louder as his fist worked his dick harder until finally, he let out a deep groan and spurted all over his hand. My lower stomach constricted and I twisted my legs together to soothe the ache, knowing I’d get a firsthand view of that tonight. Then, he flipped the view on his camera so I saw his face as he said, “It’s all for you.”

I took a deep breath to calm the arousal coursing through my veins. I’d certainly seen my fair share of men whacking off, but none had ever made me as instantly turned on as this one video. Growing up in a house with three brothers had desensitized me to cocks at an early age, which probably explained why I could do my line of work. But watching Hollywood come for me had been magical, and the heat in my cunt and the rush in my chest only made me want it more.

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