Page 4 of Velka Manor

“Embrace what?”

He keeps me in his hold, not letting go even as I try to pull myself free. I huff in frustration when he doesn’t answer. His eyes bore into mine, holding me in their intensity. I can’t help my gaze flickering to his lips as his tongue swipes out close to my face.

A maid squeaks in surprise, rounding the corner, finding us all pinned together. My eyes widen in horror as I try desperately to pull myself away from them. Dorian pins the servant with his stare, not dropping eye contact as he places a kiss on my forehead, slowly releasing my cheeks.

I stumble back into Bastian, flushed and flustered, running my hands over my skirt to flatten it. It’s a nervous tick, as the skirt wasn’t raised at all. The maid didn’t interrupt a twisted intimate moment; she interrupted a brother being a confusing asshole to his sister. Only my mind is seeing it the other way because of my depraved feelings.

Bastian laughs, leaning in and kissing me on the cheek, his hand flush on my stomach. I whack him away, looking up to explain something to the maid, but she’s already gone. I push Bastian away, holding the door to my new room.

“I’ll stick to the new rules,” I mutter, agreeing to anything if it gets me away from them and my panting thoughts.

“Good girl.” Bastian grins, moving closer. “Let us tuck you in like old times,” he says, about to put his foot on the threshold, but I slam the door in their faces first.

Bastian howls loudly with laughter, and I hear Dorian’s quiet chuckle of amusement.

“Goodnight, little sister,” they say, their voices chiming together.

“Goodnight, Bas, Rian,” I shout back and then mutter under my breath, “Goodnight, big brothers.”

I never call them that out loud, never dared to whisper it because of the feeling that floods me as I do. They’re the words I call out at night as my hand is down my underwear, my fingers running through my cum, pushing myself over the edge again and again.

I’m sick and twisted, because I’ve never wanted anything more than to feel my big brothers stretching me out, filling me so deep that their cum would stay with me forever. I’m a depraved soul in a manor full of sin.

If only I could have the two sins I truly want.

4

Bastian

My dick is so fucking hard. I can’t remember the last time it was this fucking hard. Actually, that’s a lie: I totally can. It was the last time I saw my pretty girl before that bastard who calls himself our father sent her away. Three fucking years we had to wait to get her back. Three years of nothing but planning and strategizing. And blood—lots and lots of fucking blood.

Oh, that was the best part: ripping into the people who helped take her away, tearing off their fucking limbs with my bare hands and beating them bloody with them, laughing maniacally at their pleas for mercy. They were pathetic, but we don’t give mercy. A quick torture session is the nicest thing you will ever get from us, and none of them deserved that. But she’s here, she’s back! Hopefully, my twin hasn’t fucked it up.

“Bit harsh on her, weren’t you?”

I’m mean, I get it. We have people stored all over that dungeon and the south wing holds our most special revenge, but I think my brother was a bit overkill.

“She needed to be told,” he says, opening our bedroom door, the one right next to hers.

I push ahead, knocking him out the way, laughing as he mutters a curse, flinging myself onto our bed. “Yeah,Rian, but she didn’t need to be told like that. I swear, if you fuck up my chances of sticking my cock in her sugar sweet pussy, I’ll skin you alive.”

My poor dick throbs in my jeans at the mere mention. I grab it tight, giving it a squeeze, groaning in pure agony.

He tuts at my pain, and I narrow my eyes, watching him fix his suit, keeping everything in place like the controlling bastard he is. God fucking forbid he ever looks a mess; the only time he’s willing is when he’s drenched in blood, lost to the hunger for violence. Once he’s snapped out of it, he scrubs himself clean and fixes himself back up in a suit, looking like nothing ever happened.

“Not if I skin you alive first, little brother,” he promises, sending tingles down my spine, and I shudder.

“Don’t promise me a good time if you’re not going to follow through. And don’t call me little brother unless you want to do something about my throbbing dick,” I snap, baring my teeth. “Just because you’re happy to keep your five-inch wonder locked down doesn’t mean I am.”

Fucker knows I hate it when he calls me little brother. I’m one minute and nine seconds younger than him. Sixty-nine goddamn seconds, and the asshole never lets me forget it.

Dorian smirks, removing his tie, wrapping it tight around his fist in a way that has my cock jumping. I never do mind being his practice doll when he wants to try a different shibari position.

“It’s nine inches. You know that, as you made me let you measure it and then threw a fit when you found out it’s bigger than yours.”

He smirks smugly, taking off his jacket, folding it over neatly on his armchair. He’s obsessed with that chair; it’s where hereads his favourite book. I once spilled a drink on it, so he spilled my blood, slicing my hand.

“You may be longer, but I’m thicker. Don’t you forget that,” I hiss, gripping my cock tighter until my balls zing with pain.

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