Page 13 of Velka Manor

I grab the nail file out of his leg and stick it straight into his throat and through his windpipe. Guess I’ll be selecting one from the body dungeon after all.

9

Octavia

“Isaid I’m fine, Rian,” I snap, my cheeks burning red, a hot flush trickling down my spine where he touched me, pressing his palm to my lower back, asking if I needed anything.

All day he’s done this. Little touches here and there, crowding me in when there was no need, reaching for things across me, pulling my chair right next to his when I refused to sit on his lap.

I’m in hell. My own personal hell.

Dorian smirks as I run my palms across my extremely short, black and white tartan skirt, my thick thighs out on display. It was the only thing hanging in my wardrobe this morning, along with a tight, black, long-sleeved top, black Mary Jane shoes, and pastel pink knee-length socks. My outfit of the day.

I’ve never been able to select my clothing. Each morning, I would wake to only one being in the wardrobe, hand selected and confirmed by my father. My brothers would sometimes sneak me different things to wear, but never a full outfit, and this had to be them. Father would never have allowed for me to be in a skirt this short or have no freaking underwear on. No,that’s not true. They provided me with a bra, a sheer black one that clasps in the front and has a lot of fabric missing. My large breasts threatening to spill out.

Three years ago, I would have flushed with embarrassment, thinking they were playing a joke on me, but after seeing them in the bathroom, watching them together, I’m flushed for a completely different reason. My sex has been pulsing all day, hoping they might not think my feelings for them are as fucked up as I believe, that maybe this outfit is a sign they could see me as something other than their little sister.

“I really need to speak to the maids about the outfit choice they left this morning,” Dorian says, snapping me out of my thoughts. His gaze lands on my hands tugging my skirt down. He purses his lips, raising an eyebrow.

Oh, well, there goes that thought.

“This wasn’t your selection?” I whisper, tugging harder now to make sure I’m concealed.

Of course, he didn’t select it. Devil, I’m such an idiot. It was probably a new maid who panicked without my father there and handed me something old that doesn’t fit my body as it used to.

Dorian doesn’t answer, simply sweeping his gaze up my body and returning his attention to his computer, dismissing me. I huff in annoyance and embarrassment, crossing my arms across my chest. He types away, humming in displeasure a few times. I’ve already grown bored, sneaking glances to see what he’s doing, but none of it makes sense. I want to get up and explore the castle, maybe go see the cooks and see if they have any sweet treats on hand.

No point in trying, seeing as I’m not allowed to be anywhere in this place without one of my brothers by my side. One is fully concentrated on work while the other is fuck knows where. I haven’t seen Bastian all day. I bet I could have convinced him to do something fun, unlike Dorian.

“Stop fidgeting,” Dorian mutters, slapping my bare thigh and clamping his hand around it.

I suck in a sharp breath at his burning touch, wetness immediately pooling between my thighs again. He swipes his thumb back and forth over my flesh, leaving a trail of goosebumps down my skin. If his hand was an inch higher, he could feel how wet I am. Just a single stroke higher, and my secret would be out.

I stop moving, grasping the arms of the chair, digging my nails in to stop myself from hitching my hips forward, wanting him to feel what he does to me. My chest rises as I take slow and steady breaths. My nipples harden, and there’s no hiding them in this sheer bra, no padding to protect them from being seen.

“Good girl,” Dorian whispers, giving my thigh a praising squeeze.

I hold my breath waiting for him to let go, closing my eyes tight, willing for his touch to release me even as I secretly wish for him not to. His thumb skates up my thigh, pushing back the fabric of my skirt, and I can feel my heartbeat in my ears drowning out everything else. I try to hold in my shiver, to not show what I’m feeling, but it’s too late. A whimper of pleasure spills from my lips, my head falling back, his thumb continuing to rise.

I don’t dare open my eyes, afraid of the expression on his face or for the chance that this might stop. His breath hits my cheek, the warmth of his lips dangerously close to my skin. All the air leaves my lungs, leaving me drowning in a fog of sin.

“Dear, sweet sister. Do you really think I would be letting you roam the castle in this outfit if I didn’t specifically select it for you?” He darkly chuckles, brushing his lips over the shell of my ear.

My thighs quiver, my whole body shaking. I suck in a gasp of air, my eyes springing open to find he’s moved in front of me.The heat in his gaze burns my soul, the wickedness in his smirk making my skin flush.

“Dorian.” I breathe his name like a dark prayer, begging him with everything I have without actually saying anything.

His smirk turns into a wide, sinister grin, stretching his lips so much, his features become manic. “Is that what you really want to call me, little sister?”

I choke on my own spit, spluttering in his face, but he doesn’t move. I shake my head, but I’m not sure if it’s an answer to his question or a denial that I want to use any other name.

He knows. How the fuck does he know?

“Say it,” he whispers seductively, moving his hand from my thigh and running his thumb over my bottom lip. My tongue moves on its own, catching his flesh, tasting him for the first time. He hisses at the contact, placing his thumb on my tongue, forcing it to stay hanging while his fingers capture my chin.

“Say it.”

The demand has my eyes wanting to roll to the back of my head, white hot pleasure moving through my entire body. I move my jaw, working up the courage to say what I want, what I’ve been dying to say for years as he removes his thumb. He keeps hold of my chin, placing his nose on mine, breathing in my breaths. The tension is so thick, it could choke us both.

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