Page 81 of The Game

Through the darkness, Jameson’s demonic eyes blaze down at me, his smile so sinister it rivals that of Lucifer’s. When he speaks, utterly calm, a knot forms in my stomach.

“You should know well enough by now what happens when you run from us,babochka.”

Breathing in to scream, I thrash against his hold, all of my air suddenly cut off as the familiar stickiness of duct tape is slapped over my gaping mouth. Fear jolts my veins when I feel Tristan’s shivering body behind mine, Jameson’s eyes darkening, descending into the very pits of hell. There is no love, no softness, no sign he is anything other than a machine built for destruction—mydestruction.

With a sneer that hits me square in the chest, he shoves me away into his twin’s arms. There is hatred in his eyes, betrayal in the set of his jaw. He crosses his arms, stoic as Tristan’s hands pin my forearms behind me against my futile struggles. Zip ties cinch my wrists painfully together before his hands wander down my body without an ounce of hesitation.

“You’ve made me wait a year before,babochka. I’ll be damned if you ever make me wait for this fucking cunt ever again.”

One giant hand slithers up my stomach, over my chest, settling heavily over my throat, my head craning back automatically to prevent what it knows is coming. His other hand snakes down my stomach, cool fingers making my skin jump as he tugs up my shirt and slips his fingers into the waistband of my leggings. My pussy throbs, my legs trembling, my chest heaving. I kick, strain away from the pleasure already building at one touch, my mind warring with my heart.

It’s why I ran, why I forced their hands; if they cannot take me, mold me, reshape me here and now, I’ll never be wholly theirs again. Teddy takes what he fucking wants, and they need to take me back.

Jameson’s eyes burn with rage, with hatred it’s clear he’s been hiding behind his soft veneer all this time. This is the man I knew, the one I fell in love with, the one so in control of his own emotions that not even he can recognize them at times. But right now? I feel it, I see it, and I know he does, too.

Tristan’s fingers slide over my flesh to my slit, my wetness already seeping out and covering them. My eyes slip closed in shame, for how they take me gets me off faster than any other way. Moaning like a whore against my every wish, Tristan chuckles, fingers clamping down ever so slightly on my throat, his other fingers pressed over my clit but not moving. Twisting my hips to gain friction, he withdraws at the same time he cuts off my air supply, my eyes bulging.

“You think because we make you wet that you’re allowed to come, little slut?” he hisses in my ear, his words a menacing promise of what’s to come.

There is no bargaining my way out of this, but as my eyes catch Jameson’s, vision pulsing around the edges, I smile against the tape. It ignites his eyes, his shoulders tensing, jaw grinding. I am not the same Alice, and now he sees it.

Tristan relents, and I suck a breath in through my nose, my heart racing and my head rushing. In the same moment, he kicks my feet apart, places his hands in the back of my leggings, and wrenches them apart, the tearing of fabric splitting the night. Today was a bad day to not wear underwear.

Shivering as a blast of air hits my bare skin, Tristan fists my hair and forces me to bend over at the waist, the bite of his metal zipper my only warning.

“Bad little whores don’t get to come, Alice,” he says lowly, teasing my entrance with the thick head of his cock. The familiarity of his skin against mine jolts my veins, tears thickening in my throat. I’ve missed him so much it hurts, but guilt soon overshadows this reunion. When he speaks again, though, I have a feeling I will soon be absolved of my every sin.

“Good thing for you, I like to feel your little pussy get tight around my cock, so we’re not going to be done until I think you’ve learned your lesson,da?” he hisses, yanking on my hair to crane my neck up and deepen his slow strokes. My eyes roll back, my arms aching at this angle, my body not yet fully healed. I can tell he’s being cautious for my benefit, and I have to be grateful; being so filled is as blissful as it is painful, my insides clenching and throbbing at the intrusion.

The notion that I’ve changed from the inside out—literally—hits me full-force in that moment, and I am soon fighting back more tears as his thrusts slowly build in their intensity. As much as I want the pleasure he’s promised to give me, I want to reject it, for I feel so unworthy of them, their love, their attention. Knowing them, though, they will force that pleasure until it is all I know.

So as my first orgasm builds and I do my best to fight it off, Tristan’s sadistic chuckle snakes its way to my ears, and I shiver as he plants himself deep into me, his hips radiating warmth against my ass. “You don’t get a choice this time.”

His words are a vehement promise, his fingers skimming across my hip bones and finding my aching clit, his thumb rubbing slow circles around the little bud as I gasp and buck in response.

“See what I can make you do,babochka? Your body already knows it is forever mine,” he growls, pulling out to slam back into me, all while toying with my slippery clit. I cry out against the duct tape, unable to move as my legs lock and my breathing kicks up another notch. “It’s time to be a good little slut and come for me.”

As soon as he says those words, my pussy clenches around his cock, his fingers working my clit in faster circles, his cock pounding into me as I moan and cry out and allow that bliss to wash over me from my head to my toes. The familiar throbbing of an immense orgasm takes root deep within me, cramps flaring and surging to morph and mingle with the pleasure, my body unbalanced, transformed with its missing ovary and deep scars painting my stomach.

Panting as my legs twitch and spasm, I come down from the high with a whimper as he stands me up, refusing to pull out. Arms wrapping me tightly in an embrace from behind, he lifts me up as Jameson steps forward, eyes burning into mine, his hand snapping out to trap my cheeks.

“How did that feel, little slut? I think you like this even more now,” he spits, his fury engulfing and searing, his demons more visible than I’ve ever seen them. It kills me, flays me open, but I’d reach into my own chest and offer him my bleeding, beating heart if it meant we could find that love for one another again. His nose twitches with his sneer as his zipper descends, Tristan’s cock surging inside me, and I understand what it is they will do to me. The very same thing that cemented our relationship all that time ago.

“Are you ready to take daddy,babochka?”

With a keening whimper, I shake my head, struggling against Tristan’s unrelenting hold. There’s no fucking way I can, and yet I know there’s no stopping. His biting grin and unhinged glaze to his eyes proves that, the pierced head of his cock slipping up and down against my sensitive clit.

“Hurry,mudak, she feels too fucking good.”

Jameson snorts at his twin’s impatience.

“Little sluts always feel good,” he responds, pressing his cock to my soaked and already filled entrance as I wriggle like a fish on a hook. His eyes are trained downward as he toys with me, fingers slowly inching their way inside and stretching me painfully wide. I’ve taken both their cocks in my pussy before, but this is different; I am sacrificing myself to their needs in order to find that connection that was severed by my own doing. As much as I know they love and care about me, they just as badly need to find their own way back to me. As unconventional as it is, it’s always been that way with us—and I’d never change it. They can use me in any way that brings them joy or catharsis.

“Fuck, so tight,” Jameson groans, two fingers thrusting shallowly into my filled pussy. Tristan stays as still as possible, but every shudder that runs through him is proof he’s holding back. He withdraws his fingers, replacing them with the thick head of his pierced cock, Tristan pulling slightly out so he can push in. I whimper against the tape, leaning back into Tristan and turning my face toward him, burying it under his chin against his neck. In that same moment, Jameson pushes the head of his cock into my clenching cunt, and I breathe in sharply, inhaling a scent so familiar it snaps me right back to the corn maze, and tears pool in my eyes.

Jameson slowly feeds me a few more inches, the pearls lining his cock strumming along inside me as Tristan pulls further out to make more room.

“Still our little fuck-doll,” he says behind me, his voice rough with his desire and need to dominate. “You’ll always be ours, Alice. Even in death, we’ll fucking find you and claim you again and again and again,” he swears, his oath cemented as he circles his hand around my throat and clamps down. At the same time, Jameson feeds me another few inches while Tristan pushes back in, stretching me so wide it burns.

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