Page 22 of Sip
Shock jolts him. I don’t follow his orders anymore. If I want to see Grace, I will. No one— including him— will stop me.
“I know what I’m doing. She’s fine.”
“Don’t ever do it again.”
He snarls from what I imply. Next time I will kill him. It is not a threat.
“She was freaking out now that you’re back and it’s really going to happen. I just wanted to calm her down.”
I never said I agreed but I always knew all along I would do it. How could I not? I love her. “She’s sleeping off what you gave her. When she wakes up, we’ll see if she’s still willing.”
His gaze bores into me while he shrugs his shoulders, acting as if she doesn’t have a choice. He’s wrong once again. She’s the only person who has a choice. The only one of us in control of the entire situation.
I have twenty minutes until I fuck Grace.
Shane’s prepping her while I’m trying to prep myself. Despite her repeated agreement, I know she’s terrified. I can’t let her fear me though, and I hate feeling like I’m going in blind and cold to what she wants.
I type in the code that only Shane and I have to pull up the footage for our private wings. No one else can access our cameras but I need to understand. Watching him fuck his wife is repulsive as hell but we’re already so fucked up in this situation, more depravity doesn’t matter at this point.
Although the thought angers me more than I can stand to have to see him touch his own wife. That I’m fucking jealous when I’ve never been jealous over anyone or anything in my life.
To punish myself, I start with their wedding night.
Shane helps her out of her gown, and she stands before him in just her white lace bra and panties. She trembles yet doesn’t cover herself, allowing him to take in all of her, which irritates and impresses the hell out of me.
“You’re beautiful Grace.”
She really is. Fucking breathtaking. A blush races from her chest to her cheeks from his approval, and I barely catch her whisper of thank you. That’s my girl. Still polite despite how frightened she is.
“This is going to hurt and I’m truly sorry for that. But we have to consummate our union and prove your virginity.”
Only wide eyes and a slow nod answer him back. He caresses her face. The first affection he’s given her. Yet the touch is brief and light. “Lay down and I’ll be right back.”
Once he closes the bathroom door, she quickly shucks her lingerie with shaking hands and climbs onto the mattress. She yanks the blankets to cover herself then changes her mind and pushes them to the side. I can’t fucking imagine what goes through her head as she sucks in deep breaths, her fingertips clutching the mattress until he returns. Still as a statue, only her eyes move, watching as he lays a container of lube on the nightstand.
“Open your legs honey.”
Obedient, she spreads her knees apart and yet she can’t control the quake in her small body when he strokes her pussy lips. Motherfucker. The battle rages within me. I hate him touching her almost as much as him not touching her. Shane pushes off his boxers and climbs on top of her. Killing me how tiny she looks, how petrified, how unloved. My brother treats her like a job to be done, burying his face in her neck and pushing his way inside her with only the liquid on his cock to ease his path. He thrusts again and again, without cruelty yet without tenderness as she clings to him grimacing with tears on her cheeks.
I grab the remote and fast forward, unable to stomach her agony. Only returning to normal speed when he climbs off. At least he does her the courtesy of returning with a warm washcloth and towel, wiping blood and cum from her pussy and thighs.
“You did good Grace. Each time will get better.”
After patting her shoulder, he draws the comforter across her shivering body and then leaves. Motherfucking leaves. This time I don’t speed past the images as she curls into a ball and sobs. I feed on her silent cries to make damn sure that I remember her anguish in case I get too carried away.
I pick a few more random dates and watch. Every time is the same. Every. Fucking. Time. No kissing, no foreplay. Just mounting her, releasing, and leaving. God damn it.
I know he doesn’t love her. That he only married her for one purpose, but I can’t get past his severity. As if fucking his wife is a chore. A means to an end. A necessary evil.
For as smart as he is in business, Shane is one stupid motherfucker for not appreciating Grace for the amazing woman she is.
My head droops forward as I press my palms against the desk. Attempting to generate some semblance of composure before I go to her. I cannot in any way show anger or disapproval when she’s already vulnerable from this situation.
I regret agreeing that Shane being in the room with us might be easier as furious as I am at him. I want her all to myself so I can show her how a man really should treat a woman. How I would treat her if she was mine.
Fuck. I push off the wood and stride down the corridor and upstairs to their wing. Uncertain what to expect but I’m sure I probably won’t like what I see on the other side, I push open his bedroom door. I’m not wrong— I fucking hate it.
Shane leans against the headboard, with Grace kneeling, ass to soles of her feet between his spread legs. Even with her back to me, she knows I’m here and a shudder rolls through her petite body, ruffling the hem of her short pink nightgown. I fucking hate that she’s nervous. I fucking hate that he’s here. I fucking hate myself for not planning this better.
