Page 99 of The Game

“Fuck yes,” Tristan groans, unmoving inside me as I contract and pulse forcefully because of the electricity coursing through me. Coupled with how full I feel, I am already cresting the wave of pleasure. Jameson takes it away, and my muscles loosen as I pant frantically and raise my hips, trying and failing to find the friction I need. One thrust and I’d come undone, but Tristan is strong, and he keeps me planted as I growl my anger.

Before I can make sense of anything, it lights up my nerves again, and the throbbing that means my climax is near begins to take root deep in my belly. Crying out to the night, I am so close that my eyes roll back in my skull, and Jameson takes it away, my nerves on fire and begging for that tantalizing release. I sag with a pathetic sob, my pussy clenching painfully, my clit burning.

“You’re so pretty when you cry, little whore,” Jameson growls.

“P-please,” I beg, hating how I sound, hating that they’ve broken me so quickly. Tristan chuckles.

“All you had to do was use your manners,babochka.”

His words are my only warning. He backs out at the same time that now-familiar zap flares through the sound of ragged breathing, and when he slams back into my soaked and dripping pussy, it settles over my clit. My entire body is electrified as he fucks me ruthlessly, and I come so quickly I cannot even breathe or cry out, my toes pointed, my muscles locked, and my eyes helplessly rolling back.

“Fuck, she’s gripping my cock so tight.”

“Oh…my God…” I sob, body pulsing in time with each contraction of pleasure, and I know I’ve squirted as my fluids paint my thighs and drip down the curve of my ass.

“Good fucking girl,” Jameson hisses, taking away the tingling sensation, his two palms sliding over my drool-coated cheeks and gently craning my neck backwards over the edge of the table. “Time to take daddy down your throat.”

Gulping down my fear, he loosens the blindfold, the silkiness slithering instead around my neck as Tristan languidly pumps his cock into me at a steady pace, finding his own rhythm. My watery eyes blink open, barely adjusting to the soft lighting as I squint up at an upside-down Jameson, his pierced and pearled shaft eager and dripping pre-cum into his hand as he strokes it.

“Open wide, slut.”

Sticking my tongue out, I do just that, sighing as the silky head of his cock slides across my tongue. He’s on one knee and one foot, planted in a way that he can fuck my throat raw if he so wishes. And I know that’s what he intends for me. My fingers tighten on the ropes keeping me planted on this table as he works himself in and out, as Tristan’s thumb swirls through the mess my pussy made and he plays with my sensitive clit.

“Mmm,” I moan around his cock as he works himself deeper into my mouth, toward my throat. At the same moment, his fingers find the blindfold around my neck, and my eyes fly wide as he takes both ends in one hand and cinches down, cutting my air supply to half at the same moment he thrusts down my throat, his piercing hitting my uvula and making me gag, my eyes watering so much that tears spill down the sides of my face.

He groans his own pleasure, throwing his head back as he works his cock in short bursts, tightening the blindfold with each motion. I cannot see anything, hear anything—all I am capable of in this moment is feeling, and there’s so much to feel, from pain to pleasure to fear to desire. “Make her come,” Jameson grits out. With a grunt of acknowledgement, Tristan slams into me, my skin sticking to the table and tugging painfully as I’m forced toward his twin, Jameson’s cock inching further down my throat with every thrust into my cunt.

The pressure of the blindfold lets up at the same moment Jameson backs out enough that I can breathe, and I suck in a huge breath before he cinches back down and plunges in. Tristan works my clit past the point of sensitivity, and I feel another orgasm looming.

“Think she needs…some convincing…” Tristan pants, his length and girth piercing me over and over, rubbing along inside of me and hitting that delicious spot they always seem able to find. Jameson’s answering chuckle alerts me, and a zap stings through my abused nipple as I gag and choke on his pearled cock, my body kicked into overdrive as I dangle above the precipice.

Tristan slams into me once, twice, and on the third time, the electricity zaps through my clit again, and I scream around Jameson’s cock, coming so hard that blackness dots the edge of my vision. “Yes,” he praises, stroking his cock down my throat. “Take my cum, baby, swallow it all.”

Withering from my own orgasm, all that is left in me is to obey, and so I do, ignited as his cock surges, as he groans in pleasure and coats my throat with his cum. Spasming above me, he feeds me every last drop, and I work my throat around his girth to ensure I’ve taken it all, just so I can hear their praise, hear them call me a good girl. Coming down from the high of my own orgasm, of every new sensation, I relax with a pant as he withdraws, exhausted and used.

“Such a good girl for us, Alice,” Tristan praises, and a small smile quirks my lips. I’m sated beyond belief, my body the consistency of jelly. I love being their good girl. Jameson snickers.

“She thinks we’re done, brother.”

“Oh, poor littlebabochka,” he answers as my eyes round and I whimper at the devilish grin painting his face. “We’re just getting started.”

CHAPTER 49

Jameson

The soft golden lighting of our living room paints Alice’s sweaty skin in a dewy glow. Tristan rolls out the mat we prepared earlier with his toe, a sinister glint to his eyes as our little babochka whimpers in fear of what is to come. Sealing off my emotions, I lean into that side of myself I always hid from her, the side that is ruthless and rejoices in blood, in the way a man’s eyes dim when I stand above him and claim his soul like a fucking god of old.

We’ve kept her from the darkness for far too long, and it almost killed us all. If she is to be ours, to be a Stefanov as we know she desires, then she must see us as we are, and we must break ourselves open like the shell of an egg, spilling out every fetid, evil desire we’ve ever had for her to see. Relationships require it. I don’t intend on giving her up, losing her, and neither does my twin.

So as she pants on the table, as her eyes widen at the knife clutched in my hand, as Tristan chuckles darkly, my own smile grows. My chest expands with a deep breath, one full of wanton need, and my limbs tremble in preparation for this final act.

Tonight, Alice will become ours. Tonight, she will shed her mother’s name, Winters, and she will be reborn as a Stefanov, the queen of our underworld, a woman to be feared, respected, a woman men will bow to in fear and reverence, lest we pull their beating hearts from their chests. And tomorrow night, we will hand her the very same knife, allow her the chance to take back her power, will show her the evil, evil things we are capable of.

There will be nothing left between us three save for a bond that will be unbreakable.

Tristan unties her, and against her slight protests, he holds her back to his front before sinking to the mat that covers our rug, laying down with her on top, squeezing her arms to her sides, his cock surging between her shimmering thighs. Grinning at the widening of her big, blue eyes, I sink to my knees between their legs, and she whimpers again, the sound so full of fear, so beautiful to my ears.

“What…what are you going to do?” she breathes, a tremble racking her small frame. Leaning over her, one hand planted by her head, I smooth the side of my blade across her slick thigh, her skin jumping beneath my touch as her chin wobbles and her pupils dilate. Hardening my gaze, I cast out the love I feel for this woman. I shove aside the urge to protect her. I cordon off my heart until this is over.

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