Page 56 of Stone

The guilt rolls off her in waves, and it shouldn’t make me happy. My cock shouldn’t be getting harder by the second at seeing the pain on her face, but I am, and I can. I fucking revel in it!

Pre-cum drips down my shaft and into her small hand attempting to encompass my girth. I wrap my thick palm around her fingers, forcing her hand tighter as I pump myself harder, quicker. “Wrap your lips around my cock and cry for me.” Heat springs to her cheeks, and I drag my tongue over my teeth as her mouth struggles to cover the head of my leaking cock. She gags when I thrust up, and my nostrils flare with desire at seeing heron her knees crying and pleading and desperate for me despite my scars. She has me feeling on top of the world. Ownership ravages through me as I thrust into her mouth. My ass lifts off the chair as I push inside her warmth. She bobs her head up and down, then I tighten my grip on her and unleash to fuck her face. She gargles and chokes and tries to push off my thighs, but I hold her in place. The softness of her unblemished skin against the distressed marks on my own is an aphrodisiac. “You’re so fucking perfect, Sienna,” I coo, and stroke her head between each powerful thrust. “So perfect.”

The vibrations of her throat as I plunge into her mouth make my balls spasm. “I’m going to fill your mouth with my cum, Sienna. Then I’m going to use your little pussy to take what I want.” I deliver the words cooly, like I’m not unraveling inside with a torrent of need.

Her throat closes around my cock, pulling me in, and it forces my cum to shoot out with powerful aggression, leaving me dazed at the force.

After my heart rate settles and my cock slips from her swollen lips, I finally relax.

Her head falls onto my thigh, and her chest heaves with gasps of air while my fingers remain tangled in her locks. Only now do my strokes become slower.

With her head in my lap, I’m open and exposed, yet I’ve never felt so free.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Stone

A loud pounding on the door has me jumping to my feet, forcing Sienna to scramble behind me. “Go into the bedroom and take a shower. Dress in my T-shirt.”

Hesitation flashes over her just-fucked face, and worry swims in her eyes as they flick back and forth toward me and the door. I use my thumb to trail over her bottom lip as it wobbles precariously. “Baby. You’re safe.”

Her small body relaxes on my words, and she gifts me with a serene smile. A familiar warmth I only feel around her seeps into my chest. “Okay,” she whispers, and glances back at the door before chewing on her lip and disappearing into the bedroom.

As soon as the door clicks shut, I pull on my boxers, then walk over to the door and slide the latch off, opening it wide to welcome in the men waiting on the other side.

Their don, Bren, steps inside first, and if I had to say which one I looked most like, it would be him. Mr. Personality follows behind, then the one I know to be Finn.

Finn sniffs the air like a greyhound. “Stinks of sex.” He grins and waggles his eyebrows.

“Jesus. This is a shithole. I told you I would provide funds. You just couldn’t wait, could you?” Mr. Personality spins on his perfectly polished heels while grimacing at the small room.

He rests his hands on his hips but remains standing while the other two take up the entire sofa. “I’m not sitting on that.” He points toward the chair, and I lift a shoulder and plonk myself on it.

It’s clear the jumped-up little prick was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. This is like fucking luxury compared to some hellholes I’ve slept in. This is better than the only bedroom I’ve ever known.

My mind instantly wanders to Sienna, and my gut twists, knowing this isn’t good enough for her.

“What happened to you?” Finn’s Adam’s apple bobs while he stares at my chest. His face pales as his eyes flit over the dozens of scars, from lashes, injections, burns, and bullet wounds. He freezes on my chest, no doubt taking in the iron mark over my nipple, and for the first time in my life, I feel discomfort in my body, besides Sienna seeing the worst of it, of course. “And remind me, why the fuck does he look like Bren on steroids?” His gaze slices to Mr. Personality with accusation, a sneer on his lips. “What the fuck has happened to him?” he demands, his tone rising.

Bren pinches the bridge of his nose, and I stifle a laugh at the scene playing out in front of me. Something familiar about it causes warmth to swell in my heart, but I refuse to acknowledge it. The unknown is easier to absorb.

These men may be my brothers, but I’ve yet to feel it. They’re a means to an end, and that end is to protect me and Sienna.

“I explained this already and, to be perfectly honest, it’s draining repeating myself. Bren, do the honors, will you?” Mr.Personality huffs and throws his hand out toward Finn. A mixture of anxiety and frustration rolls off him in waves, as if he’s unable to deal with Finn and his questions.

“Kid was in the compound.” Bren’s words are blunt and to the point. They’re simple, but the horror on Finn’s face tells me he knows just what compound he’s talking about, and he nods slowly.

“He was given supplements and additional hormones. An array of steroids and chemical enhancers,” Mr. Personality explains, unable to help himself, and my eyes volley between them, taking in their conversation as if I don’t exist.

“Well, what about the scars?” Finn’s voice is a broken whisper, and it makes me shift uncomfortably on the chair at knowing I’m affecting him so much.

“He was in a fucking compound used to torture people, Finn. What the fuck more do you want me to say?” Bren bellows, and even I flinch at his abrupt tone.

Finn paces. The way his chest rises and falls tells me he’s on the brink of a breakdown. “What the hell did they do to him?” Then he flicks open a penknife, closes it, and opens it again.

“Jesus. Here we go,” Bren grumbles.

“He’s having a meltdown,” Mr. Personality states the obvious, and I nod.

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