Page 5 of The Devils of Saint City

Releasing a deep breath, Manson sits up straighter in his seat and shakes his head, but he isn’t looking at me. He’s looking at my step-demon.

“Is that what you’d appreciate,pet?” Ash leans in a little closer. “I don’t remember asking. You don’t want to be a burden? Then stop clinging to some semblance of control here, because you can’t have any. You seem to be struggling to keep up here, so let me lay it out for you plainly. I don’t want you to pay rent, I want you to be my fucking slave. That’s the only way this is going to work out, and if you think you still have the option to walk out that door, guess again. You’re stuck here. I own you now, Rhea. You’re not like your mom? Prove it. Bend for me or fucking break.”

So I’ll be taking it off then. Got it.

I’ll bend to save my own life, but I’ll never break. Not for him. “And what will you do when that’s still not satisfying enough, Asher?”

He shrugs. “Then I’ll move the fuck on and we won’t be any different than we are now, will we?”

“I think this is a good idea,” Manson interjects a little too excitedly. “Yeah, it might not change anything, but what if it does? What if Ash finally sees for himself that you’re not like her?”

“Shut up, Manson. You’re reading too far into this.”

For being dangerously hot grown men, they’re seriously stupid sometimes. I don’t understand how me waiting on them hand and foot will prove I’m not a criminally insane murderer. Actually, I do know. It won’t. He’ll just continue getting revenge for something that wasn’t my fault, and he’s throwing out a lifeline by suggesting that maybe this time, it’ll be enough.

“Fine. What exactly do you have in mind?” I ask. “I already agreed to cook, clean, and do laundry. You’ve made it clear Ineed to serve you your food and drinks. Anything else? Do you need me to hold it for you while you pee?”

Manson laughs darkly as Ash grins. “Yeah, that too. I have to piss right now actually. Let’s go.”

He stands up and walks toward the bathroom without waiting for me, and Manson stands too. “I’m not missing this. Come on.”

What the fuck? What the f— “No,” I blurt out. “You’re my brother, I’m not touching your dick. You hold it.” I point to Manson. “You t—”

Manson’s hand wraps around my wrist tightly as he tugs me in. “Play along, pet,” he hisses. “This could be fun for everyone if you stop overthinking everything. You don’t share blood, and it’s a nice dick. Trust me.”

Trust him. So maybe those suspicions weren’t that far off base. I don’t care, but god, it complicates things if they’re even closer than I thought. Any chance of Manson ever taking my side is gone. “He’s only doing this to embarrass me. I know that, you know that, he knows it too.”

I wrench out of his grip and stomp to the bathroom, shoulder-checking the gigantic dickhead standing over the toilet as I reach around him. “Where is it? Is it an innie?”

Snorting, he lifts up his arms to give me better access as his stupid fucking friend leans against the door frame to watch. “Have you ever unzipped a zipper, genius? Take it out.” I can’t see around his huge frame, so I have to blindly feel around to find it without any help.

“Well, now you’re just trying to get him hard.”

Manson isn’t lying, I can feel it growing as I slide his zipper down. It actually makes me happy. That may not be the right word for what I’m feeling, but it’s close enough. If he’s turned on by me, by the power... I can use that. “Do you want me to goslower?” I whisper, toying with the button of his jeans before I pop it open. “Like this?”

“Stop,” Ash growls, but his body doesn’t seem to agree. “Just get it out so I can piss.”

I feel the way his hips move forward in search of my hand even though the movement was small enough for him to deny. Sick fuck. “That desperate for me to touch it, hm? Have you thought about it, Asher?” My fingers brush his shaft as I wrap my hand around it and pull him out. “Does it feel like you thought it would?”

He doesn’t respond. How can he when whatever the hell he wants to say would be a lie? He reaches down to help me aim where it needs to be, and I have to ignore how hot and heavy it feels in my grasp.

When he begins actually going, I have to admit it’s... different than I thought it would be. I know this is meant to belittle me, but it doesn’t feel like that at all as he tenses and I grip it a little tighter.

I could rip it off right now if I wanted.

He has to lean forward and brace his arm on the wall to keep it aimed down thanks to his semi, and when he finishes. I feel Manson step in behind us. “My turn.”

“Wait, asshole. It’s still dripping.”

Is it? Or does the man who hates me simply not want me to stop touching his cock?

“I have two hands, but I think you’re done, Ash. Shake it twice so you don’t dribble.” I let my fingertips glide over it as I turn to Manson. “Come on, then.”

The shuffle around the small space is awkward, but Manson moves in happily and places both of his hands on the back of his head like he’s getting arrested. “Come on, mama. It’s not gonna drain itself.”

His dumb, fake country accent makes Ash laugh as he washes his hands, but it’s better than pet or slave. I study his dark hazel eyes as I take him out with both hands, exhaling quietly when I feel how thick he is. His cock is shorter than Ash’s, but not by much. At least I have some good memories to call on to make it easier with him. “Go ahead. Let it out.”

He groans when it starts, his gaze still locked on me with an expression I can’t read. The second he finishes, long, meaty fingers ghost along my chin. “Good girl.”

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