Page 7 of The Twins

It’s not like Remo does any damage to my body.

He has a wild streak; he just takes it a little further on my body when I invite him to.

On an emotional level, Remo is overwhelmed by what I ask him to do, but he does it anyway. He needs me as much as I need him. I keep his secret, this haunted lake, and he keeps mine—until we one day grow strong enough to let our secrets go.

When his hand drops from my tits, and his warmth travels further south to meet the junction between my thighs, I quiver in his arms. He parts my creamy thighs. “How hard do you want it, Grey?”

I don’t tell him what I want, but I give him the gift of my presence. Every touch he gives me, I react to. He fists my hair? I purr. He lays me to the ground to tower over me? I pant while feeling every inch of dirt that he’ll later help me wash off.

“Remo, please,” I beg him, but he doesn’t touch my pussy. He knows that this is the one thing he can be cruel on. I want it to hurt because that gives me comfort. It’s like the old days, as much as the thought makes me shiver.

We’re the bad kids in our family. Vegas and Charles shouldn’t allow us to roam free.

If it weren’t for my dead womb, I’d already be pregnant. Remo doesn’t bother to prepare me at all. He doesn’t wear protection. He spreads my legs, and I see the curiosity in his eyes as he strokes himself. His cock’s a size too big, like all my fucking men are. I wouldn’t take these shafts inside of me if I were a normal person, but to my luck, I’m as absurd as one can be.

When it hurts, I gravitate towards it. It doesn’t always have to hurt. Don’t get me wrong. The recovery from an abusive relationship is multi-faceted, and Remo and I are sidetracking a whole chunk of it.

Remo’s on good terms with my pussy when we’re in LA. But today, Remo will make it hurt.

And fuck, it hurts when he pushes inside.

I’ve asked him to make it last, so his strokes are deep and slow. He’s not in a hurry. In fact, Remo plays with the idea of choking me, but he doesn’t cross over the threshold. Instead, his fingers graze over my scars, and I cry out because even if his cock is tearing me apart, what his fingers do to my neck ambushes me. He finds the spot I need to go feral, and he provokes me until I shake for him with need.

When Remo comes, he finishes deep inside of me. I can’t hold back because when he finishes, I do, too. I’m programmed that way.

Remo’s mind clears of the fog I induce whenever we’re alone and I ask for painful sex. He picks me up, whispering sweet words of devotion at me. I climb on top of him, and he secures me with his arm. With my head against his chest, we make our way back to the cabin.

I listen in on Remo’s heart, but I can’t hear it.

Why does it have to beat for someone else?

I have separation anxiety. My therapist warns me against this need I feel inside.

You see, I’m supposed to be my own person.

I shouldn’t rely on Remo, Vegas, or Charles to be happy.

The three men in my life shouldn’t be my anchor. I should trust myself, the process of healing.

It’s sweeter to be addicted to three men who dote on me, cherishing every detail of my tormented recovery process.

* * *

My fingers are intertwinedwith Remo’s as he drives me to work. After three nights of cold, he’s warm today.

I had my work suitcase with me during our stay in Lake Arrowhead, saving us the time of going back and forth in the morning. That’s not why he’s in a lighter mood today.

“It’s going to be a tough night,” Remo says, but he fights his grin. He shouldn’t. I like seeing him happy. “We’re getting somewhere with the work we’ve been doing.”

“I’m glad,” I tell him, squeezing his hand. His eyes are on the road as I keep my gaze on him. “Will you be home more now that you’re finishing up with the task force?”

Remo shakes his head, a low chuckle ripples out of him. “It’s one part of an entire organization we’re taking care of today. There’s more work to be done.”

He speaks in riddles, but this is a riddle I’ve been introduced to. The Pedo Perv Task Force, as Vegas named it years ago. Neighborhood after neighborhood, this task force works with locals to end sex trafficking of minors.

Charles, Remo, and Tara have previous experience, but it doesn’t count in the big city. The military and spy agencies Remo and Vegas used to work for have entangled my family into a new scheme of sorts.

To the LAPD, my men and Tara are cops. Remo’s a disgraced vet. Well. He’s not considered a vet with his record. That’s what Vegas says when Remo’s not listening. Vegas is the one to explain it because Remo doesn’t talk about it.

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