Page 8 of Bathed in Blood

“You need to control yourself around Jax, Lana,” he admonishes.

Because I’m the problem.

I just nod, leaning back before sinking underneath the water, wishing maybe, just maybe, the hand he’s using to wash my chest will press down, taking away my choice to resurface.

He doesn’t, and eventually, my lungs demand it. I pop from the water with a gasp, my eyes burning from the oils they like to bathe me in. It’s probably their mothers’ tears or something like that. Vince hums to me softly as he forces me to my knees in the tub, forgoing the loofa to clean my ass with his bare hand.

A strangled sound leaves my throat, the pain making my hands shake. His touch is far from delicate, but it’s welcome compared to Jax as he parts my cheeks and prods at the damage. I do my best to ignore the blood tinging the water. He stops cleaning me only long enough to feed me his cock.

I choke on his length, my red hair pulled taut in his fist as he stuffs himself deeper than my body wants to allow. My nose is stuffy from the cold rain, and each inhale is forced, making a whistling sound as I’m forced to swallow him. Tears prickle in my eyes as he holds me there, unmoving, his dark eyes gazing down at me with something akin to admiration. It’s the way you’d stare at your prized racehorse after it broke its leg on the track.

Seconds before you put a bullet in its skull.

My hands squeak against the edge of the tub as I grip it, my knuckles popping with the effort to hold me still. When he finally moves, backing out of my throat, the breath I drag in is ragged. Anton discards the plate of food he’d walked in with at some point, the sound of his buckle nearly drowned out by my coughing.

The bruises on my face throb in tune with everything else as Vince grasps my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You’re going to make tonight up to us, right, Lana?”

Dread pools in my belly as Anton makes his way behind me, inspecting the damage.

“She can’t take you like that,” Vince snaps, roughly jerking me from the warm water, crashing my body into his clothes. I can’t help but flinch. Vince is cool, like an ice storm, and every bit asdeadly. His rage comes all at once with an unhinged lethality I’ve only seen a few times.

That was enough.

Anton whistles. “Damn, baby, he really tore you up this time.”

“Wow, I hadn’t realized.”

Vince smirks, finally releasing me from his chest, his chipped black nail polish shining as he snakes his hand down my front. Deft, well-practiced fingers find my clit, and I focus on the pink-tinged water, the way the bubbles swirl as he thrums. It feels better with Vince than with his brothers. Somehow, that has always made it worse. At least Jax doesn’t want me to enjoy it. Anton just wants me to pretend to, but Vince…he can tell the difference. He won’t stop until my body relents, forcing more from me, the betrayal of myself.

Anton takes up station behind me, shoving his cock against my hand until I take it.

This time, when I relax into Vince, it’s not some harlequin knight in shining armor I picture, with his rippling muscles, long blonde hair, and azure blue eyes. This time, as my belly tenses, my hips rolling in tune with his fingers, despite the painful tug in my ass, the knight has moss green eyes, dark wet hair. It drips onto my face as he teases my clit in tight circles, stopping to run his long fingers up my slit, teasing but never pushing in. His white button-up shirt is clinging to him, molding to every groove, letting me glimpse the expanse of tattoos underneath.

“Fuck, Lana,” Anton moans, now content to use my hand as a pocket pussy.

Christian watches me intently as my lips skim his jaw, my tongue darting out to taste him. Vince’s moan almost ruins it until Christian pulls me back, his free hand tweaking and pulling at my nipple.

“I need you,” I whisper, giving myself over to the fantasy. When that tight line bursts within me, it’s not the gentle releaseof pressure: it’s an explosion. I’m lost to it, carried away by the blast. I don’t feel the ropes of cum hitting my back as I bite down on Christian’s shoulder, moaning and whimpering so loud, it echoes in the large bathroom.

All too soon, the waves pass, Christian’s hands replaced by Vinces as he gently—too gently—removes my head and teeth from his shoulder, forcing my face towards his. What I see there in his dark brown eyes is wrong. His hand raises, prodding the angry, raised flesh.

His eyes never leave mine and they’rewrong.

So terribly wrong.

“Leave us,” he growls.

Anton bristles at my back where he’d been rubbing his cum into my skin. “No, I want to dress her. You did it—”

Whatever look Vince flashes him is enough, and Anton storms out of the room with a slew of curses. I can’t focus on a single one because now, I’m panting. When Vince directs his forehead against mine, ice floods my veins. When his lips touch mine, I die inside.

He kisses me for the first time, his lips deceptively soft and… needy.

“I- I need you too, Lana.”

Oh fucking hell.

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