Page 21 of Wounded Wing

The challenge in his tone is clear. I am part of the asking price or he walks away from this deal. My spine straightens, not daring tomove a muscle. Ren’s jaw ticks ever so slightly before his legs part, seemingly unbothered by Atticus’ words.

“I don’t thin–”

“Do as I say, wife. Go sit on his lap!” Atticus shouts.

Scrambling closer to Ren, his body heat licks across my skin in waves. His slacks stretch against his tense thighs as he patiently waits for the touch of my legging-clad ass. Body tense, I lower myself on Ren’s lap. I spare a glance towards Atticus who looks entirely too pleased that I followed his directions.

“I think my dear friend Ren knows what I’m planning now,” he hums, walking towards his desk.

Uncertainty wraps its claws around my throat, unable to remove myself from Ren’s tense legs. Like Atticus had spoken a command and turned us both to stone. Silence falls between the three of us. Only the tedious ticking from a brass, mechanical clock hanging above Atticus’ desk can be heard. Ren’s muscles twitch underneath me as he grits his perfectly set teeth.

Scoffing, Atticus rolls his dead, gray eyes. “I thought you said there isn’t a price that you’re not willing to pay? Besides,thispayment is five years overdue, wouldn't you say?”

What is he talking about?

Then it hits me. My breath catches in my throat. Five years ago was the first time I experienced Atticus in a fit of rage.

“Thosecouillonsstole from me. Me, of all people! Two perfectpapillon, gone. They. Were. MINE,” he seethes as he whips his flute of champagne against the wall, sending shards of sparkling glass to the floor.

“I could tell from the moment you looked at her, you wanted her,” he continues, “Mae is my wife and I want you to…enjoy her.”

Ren’s coiled body relaxes briefly before striking. Long, fit arms wrap around my upper body, pinning my back flush with his chest. His low groan tickles against my ear as he settles my ass against the growing bulge in his slacks.

Biting my lip in an effort to stifle any sound of appreciation, I clench my hands, nails cresting inside of my palms. Our hearts beat together, yet wildly out of sync.

Atticus approaches us slowly, similarly to a wolf stalking its prey. His pupils are blown, leaving only a trace of their grayish color in sight. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was strung out.

Fuck.

Maybe he is and this was his drug.

Digging his icy hands into my thighs, Atticus steals a whimper from my throat. Ren’s heated breath brushes the base of my neck offering me some form of twisted comfort.

Leaning down towards my face, Atticus licks his lips. “Mon petit papillon, how do you make this sight so perfect?” His breath coasts along my lips. “Both terrified and horny. So small, yet, you are the center of this stage.”

His pale hands creep up from my thighs and settle around the waistband of my dark athletic leggings, peeling them down inch by inch until they reach my calves. My face heats uncomfortably as Ren’s breath puffs against my neck. Atticus opens my legs, hooking them over Ren’s, revealing my naked cunt.

As fast as he came to torment me, Atticus returns to his desk sitting, away from hisstage.Fear, humiliation, and want work in tandem, causing my pulse to thrum in my ears while my nipples stiffen to peaks against my thin sports bra. Ren must feel the shift in my breathing, taking it as a sign of defeat, or maybe permission.

His soft lips meet my neck with a languid kiss, trailing to the sensitive point behind my ear, causing me to arch my spine. Releasing his tight hold from my arms, his heated hands drop to my thighs. Where Atticus’ icy skin left me whimpering, Ren’s has me relaxing.

Sucking my earlobe gently, Ren coaxes my head to turn closer to his mouth. Little nips keep me aware as his tongue traced the stinging away. His lips press against my ear as he cups my swollen heat, coaxing a moan to vibrate its way through me.

“I can see why my brothers are invested in you,” he whispers, grazing a long finger between my slick folds.

My breath catches in my throat, the wetness between my legs growing.

Who the fuck are his brothers?

Turning my head, I watch Atticus lean forward, splaying his fingers over his desk. He licks his lips devilishly as Ren toys with my pussy. “Spread her open, Kudo,” he commands, taking control. “I want to see how wet my wife is for you.”

Cool air flows past my puffy cunt as Ren follows Atticus’ demands. Closing my eyes, I hide from the embarrassment of being exposed, the scars from my last interaction with Atticus now on full display. I hate them and their ugly discoloration, the texture rigid in places that are meant to be smooth.

“Fuck, that’s a pretty sight,” Atticus rumbles.

Ren’s arms tense as he swipes the pads of his fingers over the tissue. Biting my lip, I fight to keep my degrading thoughts at bay as fingers stroke the blemishes burned on my sex.

Lifting his hips, he grinds his covered cock over my ass. ”Be a good girl and play along a little longer,” he hushes in my ear, making my heart skip a beat.

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