Page 54 of The Trap

I move to Colson’s side, instinctively running my hand down his broad back. His temper doesn’t settle at my touch. If anything, I can feel his pulse skyrocket.

The woman charges over to where Brett is seated, still bound. She raises her gloved hand to him, smacking the bloodied flesh of his cheek. “Contéstale,” she demands, lifting her hand for a second before smacking him again. Blood and drool slip from his mouth as he slowly parts his lips to respond. “I don’t know what the fuck you said, you crazy bitch,” he spits. Bad move, becausethe slaps to the face she gave him are nothing compared to the pain he must be feeling as she drives a forceful kick to his balls.

As Brett moans in pain, I address him, keeping my hand propped up on his brother. “She told you to answer her.”

“The fuck,” he stops, fighting back crocodile tears. “Just kill me already,” he breaks, pitifully.

As much as I want nothing more than for him to croak, it feels too easy. This prick before us deserves to rot, certainly, but not before he endures just a sliver of the torture he’s inflicted on others.

“So, Brett, how does it feel to know that your plan backfired? That all your scheming literally did nothing but bite you in the ass?” I seal my taunt with a shrill laugh, but he doesn’t respond, he just cries even more.

My lips part as my imagination runs wild trying to catch up with my mouth so I can unleash a host of cruel taunts against him, but Colson stops me.

“I’m not surprised. You always were a sore loser, you’ve always seen me as a threat instead of a brother,” Colson begins, and I can sense a shift in him. “Thing is, I let you win half the time, so I didn’t have to deal with how whiny and miserable you were. I let you be you, just so I could have some peace. But that wasn’t good enough for you, was it?” His question is rhetorical, as his raspy baritone continues with added vigor to it. “I can accept that you hate me. I can even understand why you wanted me dead. You’re weak, of course you did. But newsflash, asshole, I don’t care about the money, the power, or my fucking life. Want to know what I do care about?” he asks another rhetorical question. “Well, I’ll fucking tell you.” He pauses. Pivoting toward me, he closes the menial space between us. Reaching for my chin, he captures it in his suddenly possessive grip. “I care about watching you suffer,” he says to Brett, but his eyes are on me. “I care about watching your ego burst into a million littlepathetic pieces while you watch, helplessly, as the two people you wanted dead more than anything fuck right in front of you, enjoying every second of it, knowing that once my cum is coating her pussy,” he stops to turn his head to look at a whimpering Brett. “Excuse me,mypussy,” he corrects himself, lowering his hand to cup my center, “we are going to gift you with a brutal, prolonged, and agonizing send-off to where you belong…in the fucking ground.” He spits at the ground, looking at his pitiful brother, and I’ve never been so fucking turned on in my life from his possessive declaration.

Anger suddenly paints Brett’s already crimson face, but he’s not looking at me, he’s looking at his brother. “Of course, that’s the part that has you upset. Not the part about mom cheating with an enemy of our family or that she betrayed the man that raised you, you ungrateful fuck. It’s that I was going to have that piece of pussy killed. You two deserve each other,” he spits.

“Don’t you fucking talk about her like that,” Colson seethes, pressing his calloused palm harshly against mine.

“Ha, which one, your whore mother or the whore that won’t let you get past hand holding? You’re pathetic, Colson. You don’t deserve the Cromwell name.”

Colson’s lips part, but I don’t give him the opportunity to speak before I yank him to me. Without hesitation, our lips crash and find a home in one another. In an instant, I feel the torment swarming every inch of Colson’s body melt, directing that anger, angst, and betrayal to me, where it belongs, instead of fighting a pointless battle with his brother.

I’m faintly aware of Brett saying something, but neither of us turn our heads. All we can focus on is our lips dancing together. My mouth falls open just enough for his tongue to dart in. Finding my barbell piercing, his gentle kiss shifts as he pulls at my tongue, sucking it into his mouth.

Heat pools at my center. I’ve never been so aroused by a simple kiss, but just as I’m about to lose myself in it, he pulls away, releasing me.

He presses his forehead against mine, reminding me of how much bigger he is than me. He towers over me.

“I’m not going to let him get away with this,” he breathes before pressing an unexpectedly gentle kiss on my forehead that sends a violent throb to my clit. Stepping away, I bring my hand to his stubbled jawline, tipping his head so his gray eyes lock with mine.

“I know, but not right now,” I grin, squeezing his beautiful fucking face so my nails dig into his skin. “Fuck first, kill after.”

A primal grunt escapes his lips, which is enough to make me want to come right here and now. But I won’t, not until his lips or cock are in place to capture my release.

“I love how bold you are,” he hums.

“Says the man who just said he owns my pussy that he’s going to coat in his cum.”

“I do,” he breathes, running his thumb at my lips, keeping me close to him.

“Colson, please. That arrangement is just a piece of paper, get a grip,” I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies he’s giving me making me uncharacteristically giddy.

His finger brushes my chin. “No, Raiden, I do own that pussy of yours. I’ve owned it since the first day we saw each other, and you know it.”

“How can you own it if you haven’t properly fucked me yet?” I point out, trying to not pant.

Leaning into my lips, he hovers over them. “Is that what you want? For me to fuck, you? Claim you? Prove to you that youaremine?” he asks with a swoon-worthy level of cockiness that suits him.

I shake my head, pulling him closer. It’s not lost on me how crazy this is, how we’re literally prolonging our escape–and his brother’s death–just so we can fuck, but this release, this moment we’ve been tip-toeing around for far too long, is worth it.

There are so many unanswered questions swirling in my head. But the one thing I do know is that we were predestined to each other. Not by paper, or even circumstance but by fate. Because without knowing what our father’s planned for us, we still gravitated to one another.

Our mouths teasing each other, I dart out my tongue, showing off the surgical steel bar. I flick my tongue against his lip. “Yes,” I whisper. I’ve wanted nothing more than to submit to him, so I can finally lose myself in someone and something other than what I’m forced to always be…in control.

Slowly, Colson steps back, creating space between us. “I’m warning you,” he breathes, continuing to grab the chair in the corner of the room. “Once I fuck you, it’s over.” His voice trails off as the chair’s legs grate against the floor.

Lip between my teeth, I chomp on the plump flesh, mulling over his words. “What will be over?”

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