Page 71 of Crown of Steel

Shaking my head, I take a step back, for once not caring that I might not come across strong enough. Tonight I’m feeling too vulnerable to fight him. “I can’t,” I mutter.

“You can’t?” He huffs in mockery, clearly pissed. “Well, if you’d have actually checked your messages, you would have read the one I sent you tonight. The one in which I sent you my ultimatum.”

I blink, unsure if he’s serious or if it’s once more one of his pranks.

He raises a brow. “Judging from your look, you didn’t even check your fucking phone. Have you actually received the messages I’ve been sending you? And Mom has been shit worried about you. Because you hadn’t replied to any of your messages, I checked in with your counselor.” His eyes sweep over the window, then back to me. “You were clearly occupied tonight. And the night before, and the night before…” His voice trails off, and he lifts his hand once more, crooking his finger. “Come here.”

Balancing on one foot, I mumble, “I haven’t been checking my messages.” Guilt wraps itself tight around my heart. I hadn’t thought that my mother would get worried about me.

I shuffle to my bed, then linger awkwardly, nails dug deeply into the flannel of my pyjama pants. Suddenly they don’t feel like my favorite pair anymore, but a little silly, too colorful and all. My cock is rock hard, recognizing Arthur, and desperate to reconnect. My mind however, is a different story. It rattles and fumes as it tries to make sense of the tumbling emotions. Surprise. Joy. Lust. Fucking rage.

He pulls back the blanket and watches me crawl onto the bed, unable to refuse him now that he’s finally here. I’ve missedhim too much. He rolls me onto my side and wraps my leg over his strong thighs, tucking my head in the slope of his neck and letting his hand trail over my shoulder down to my arm, rubbing the clothed skin until I can finally let out a shuddering breath.

“What’s going on with you, hmm?” He rasps, his breath tickling my forehead. “You let me into your bed, and then you ignore me for the weeks to come?”

“You were gone when I woke up.” Pressing my lips tight, I wince at my reply. It’s stupid, and weak, and—

“Is that what this is about?” I can feel how he dips his chin onto my head, feel his jaw work when he says, “I had to go to the library early in the morning. Dad got me a tutor to help me prepare for that qualification presentation.” He lets out a heavy sigh after that and then silence falls over us. My stomach coils, a strange feeling fisting tight in its pit, and it's an unfamiliar sensation. “It has been fifteen days, Régis. Fifteen, fucking days.”

Something shatters inside me, and I free my grip from his to look up, mind dazed, and slant my mouth against his, scraping his wet, bottom lip with my teeth. Desperation clings around my heart, cradling those steel bars that are permanently ground into my soil.

“Fifteen days of hiding,” he mutters against my lips. “And I sent you a text message every freaking day. You never replied. We live in the same dorm, but you’ve been playing hide and seek for the past weeks. That game has finished now.”

“I was—”

“No,” he rumbles. “Don’t give me that crap. We’re all busy here.” He licks inside my mouth, his tongue flicking against mine, while his fingers snake up and tilt up my chin, keeping me in position. My entire body roars to life, skin heating up behind the flannel garment, cock lengthening behind its restraints. “I want you to talk to me.”

“No,” I flatten my hand against his chest to push him away,then roll onto him, reaching for my night stand to take hold of the lube that he put there. The bottle feels awkward and surprisingly light in my hands as I touch it for the first time. “I don’t want to talk.” No talking, no thinking, just for fucking once. “I just want to feel.”

I’ve missed you.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes, and something explodes inside my chest. Crawling on top of him, I plant both hands on either side of his head. I can feel his dick pressing against my ass, and I need to swallow the violent moan that threatens to spill. “This can’t carry on like this,” he rumbles, his darkened eyes fixated on mine.

“Touch me.” I grind into him, our hips connecting, our hot and hungry dicks glueing together as they rock in sync, causing bliss to tingle through my entire body. “If you can’t make me forget, leave instead.”

Arthur groans deeply, then snatches the bottle out of my hand. “You treacherous little kitten.” He opens the cap and squirts a generous amount onto his fingers, rubbing them together as he glares at me. “Fifteen days of pretending.” He slips a wet finger under the waistband of my pyjamas and into the crease of my ass. I gasp when he breaches the tight ring of muscles and scrapes unapologetically inside my hot hole.

“Fifteen days of avoiding me.” He dips another finger inside my hole and rubs my tight channel, making my toes curl, and my eyes roll back. His lips are back on mine, a featherlight tease as his digits continue to ravage my insides.

My knees buck on a mewl, hips searching for more friction as I rock them against his fingers. His free hand creeps around my neck and squeezes, keeping me in place. I let out a desperate moan against the pillow.

“Fifteen days of …what? Mom’s going to call you and ask how you’ve been doing, and you’re going to tell her what? Dad’s going to ask if you’ve joined the brotherhood and you’re going to tell himwhat?”

Pulling me up with his fingers still in me, he lets my spread thighs sit on either side of his strong legs, my back arched forward. With my ass in the air and my face still on this pillow, he caresses the skin of my nape, tracing the shape of my spine until he joins his other finger at my ass.

“What?” He repeats on a hiss, followed by a sudden strike on my right ass cheek. I jolt forward when he crooks his finger, rubbing my prostate. I let out a moan of pain, of desire.

“What are you going to tell them, Régis?” He doesn’t wait, but slaps me on my other cheek. I cry out, the pain a cruel sting to my skin, followed by the twitch of his finger.

“I—I—” My mind is swimming, and I let out another cry when he slaps me again. And again. And again. Rocking back and forth on his fingers, my ass is on fire, breath lurking in my throat.

“I don’t know.” I finally manage, then jump at yet another nasty slap.

“You don’t know?” Arthur gives me an incredulous laugh. “I thought I’d made myself clear, little stepbrother. But perhaps you need a reminder?”

“No—” I whine. “Please.” My ass is on fire, my cock hard as steel and dripping against my stomach.

Arthur caresses my aflame cheeks and I let out a shudder, trepidation building in my chest. “Please, don’t. Not again.”

---