Page 49 of Restitution
My eyes close momentarily, my high building, and I grit my teeth, remembering everything he ever did to me, to us, while Kade keeps touching me, his other hand sliding up my chest, between my breasts, until he’s holding my throat.
“Hurt him with me, Freckles. Make him pay for ruining our lives.”
I barely register the blade lodging in Chris’s thigh, or Kade’s fingers wrapped around mine, both of us holding the blade’s handle now. My stepbrother cries out then grits his bloody teeth, unable to move from his restraints.
I breathe, pulling the blade out and doing it again, but Kade lets go, dragging his hand up my thigh and circling my clit while his other fingers keep fucking me.
Each time I stab Chris’s thighs, he cries a little louder, his voice croaky and dry, begging me to stop, but I keep going and going and going, until my arm gets tired. I drop the blade on the ground and wrap my blood-covered hand around Chris’s throat instead, cutting off his air.
I’m not strong enough to kill him with one hand, but the pressure building in his face brings me joy while Kade grinds his cock up against me through his trousers, dropping a “fuck” and a “keep going”.
My hand cramps, so I let go of Chris’s throat. He gasps for air, his entire body trembling as his blood pools beneath the chair.
I yelp as Kade pulls his fingers out, grabs my nape and bends me forward, my head dangerously close to Chris’s knee. He’s tugging at my shorts again, and I tense with euphoria as he finger-fucks me from behind then leans forward to circle my clit.
“She’s such a good girl for me, Christopher,” Kade teases. “Such a good, good girl.”
He goes harder, and I need to grab the arms of the chair, careful not to touch Chris as my vision blurs and warmth gathers at my core, which is clutching at the fingers pummelling into me now.
“So,” Kade continues, “back to what I was saying because we got distracted.”
He thrusts his fingers faster, and I cry out as a wave of pleasure hits me. It happens again, and again, until my orgasm overtakes the feeling, and I’m seeing stars and moaning.
“Fuck, she’s soaking and tightening around my fingers, Christopher. I bet you wish you were me. I bet you always wished you could be me. She’s fucking drenched forme. Do you know what it feels like to be loved by her? To see a future with her? To watch her grow your child, only to lose it because of a piece-of-shit jealous cunt?”
Chris is trembling, yanking at his restraints still – fighting against them to try to… what? Stop Kade from touching me? To take over himself?
No one ever knows when it comes to Chris.
“F-Fuck you,” he spits.
I gasp and tense all over when it finally gets too much. Kade pulls his fingers out and tugs me up by the hair to sit on him again as I try to catch my breath.
“You good?”
Tears sting my eyes, my lips trembling. “Can I go now?”
I’m scared. For the first time in a while, I’m scared of Kade. Not because he touched me, even if it was only to take revenge against Chris, but there’s something different about him. Like he’s fallen into a deep, dark hole and is trying to get himself out of it.
He stares at me, searching my face with a confused look. Thenhe lets go of me, and I don’t wait a second to run.
I hear the door opening – Tobias and Barry are standing there – then Chris starts calling out my name, stopping me at the stairs, but he’s silenced when Kade smashes a hammer into the side of his face.
I should be basking in his pain, but with all the blood, the thumb rolling near my feet and the other fingers on the floor… I try not to gag as Kade lifts another tool. The small hacksaw again.
Barry watches Kade lift one of Chris’s fingers and toss it aside – he glances sideways at an impassive Tobias and sighs.
Then his eyes drop to me.
“Are you okay?” Barry asks me, his gaze flickering between the blood coating my hand and Kade. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay,” I say quietly. “I’m going to my room.”
Barry nods and steps aside just as Tobias goes to the table filled with blades and grabs the largest one.
Kade watches me take the stairs two at a time, and he honestly looks terrifying. He has a saw in one hand and a hammer in the other, and his face is red with blood, the whites of his eyes the only light present.
“Don’t be afraid of me, Freckles,” he calls, spitting out blood that’s leaked into his mouth. “This is for us.”
