Page 6 of Crown of Steel

Dad…I miss you. I’m so scared of these people. I don’t trust them. Not even my mother. I want to go back home. Let me go back home. I promise I won’t try to stop you if you hurt me. Scream at me, punish me. I don’t care. Just . . . let me go back home.

“Pierre Amadou’s mother told Dad that they are going to nominate this guy Pascal for thePrix d’Honneuras well,” Arthur says, his husky sound thick with disdain. His fingers still on my thigh.

“Yeah, so I heard,” Louis replies. “He’s going to be tough competition.”

Arthur’s fingers add a hint of pressure on my upper thigh, the only sign that thisPrix d’Honneur,the most prestigious prize Saint-Laurent yearly hands out to its best performing student, matters to him. “Well, it’ll be one I enjoy accepting.” The aloofness in his voice is a contradiction to the touch.

Louis snorts, his eyes on his vibrating phone. “Always so humble, brother. Well, I’ll come and watch you take that prick down. He’s a weird motherfucker.”

Arthur sniggers raspily. “That he is.” Fingertips brush further up, crawl under my jacket as they make their way toward the insides of my leg, leaving a gentle trace of tingles. When he leans in, his strands touching my temple, I can’t help but shiver. He has never been this close before, and I find myself squeezing the bottle in a death grip as I wait for his next move. His mouth smooths over my hair close to my ear.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me…” His voice is soft as silk, keeping everyone out of our conversation. “Is this what you want me to do, little stepbrother? Does this make you feel hot?” His words are sharp as a razor, and they make my insides shudder. The bottle in my hand trembles when I put it against my lips again. Ignoring the mocking chuckles and encouragement from Louis, I drink. The taste is sharp on my tongue and even more bitter in my throat, but I can’t stop.

“Oh, yes it does make you hot.” Arthur’s chuckles are velvety while his fingers creep over the bulge in my pants, making my body jerk at the touch. No one has ever touched me there, no one apart from my own hand. And he—what’s he doing? I place my fist over my jacket and on my lap, in an attempt to make him stop.

He doesn’t.

Instead, his fingers pop the button of my dress pants, and before I realize what is going on, Arthur is unzipping my fly. I whip my head to the side and our eyes meet. His are dark, a little hooded as he watches me intently.

When his tongue peeks out to lick his lips, my gaze drops to catch the movement. Somewhere in the back of my mind I can hear Louis chuckle at something on his phone, and in the front the two bodyguards are quietly talking between themselves, purposefully ignoring what’s going on here.

I can’t help myself. I have never allowed myself to look atanyonethat way before, but now that he’s got my attention, I can’t seem to undo this electric tension crackling between us. A wolfish grin tilts his mouth.

Stop. I want to tell him.

Louis’s phone vibrates again. “The ceremony has finished. Why don’t you start the party, we’ll shortly be there. Dad.” Louis reads.

Arthur releases a low chuckle, sending chills down my spine. “Seems that our little Régis here has already begun,” he murmurs. I watch in fascination how his mouth moves.

And then his hand dives into my boxers and he grabs hold of my dick. I’m hard, I realize with a flush of embarrassment. My hand squeezes the jacket while I swivel my head back and stare straight ahead. I can’t—but he—I can feel his eyes on my face,leaving a scorching trace of pure, shameful desire. This is mystepbrother.

And he strokes me leisurely, secretly, under the jacket on my lap. I reach for the bottle, but Louis snatches it out of my hand. “Uh uh, don’t want to get you all wasted at the party,little bro.” He takes a swig and sends me a filthy wink. “I hope Marie’s going to be there too. Please tell me that Marie will be there too.”

“Marie will be there too,” Arthur deadpans, his hand keeping a steady stroke. It’s too slow for me to climax, I think, but it’s enough to make me slowly lose my senses. I clench my jaw forcefully in an attempt to keep any gasps from tumbling out of my mouth. I won’t give him that. Won’t give him anything.

But my hips buck when his fingers graze my balls.

Oh God.

He rolls them in between his palm and my own nails now dig into the flesh of my palms, my fingers clammy and aching from the tight fist they are scrunched in for too long.

His fingers skit up over my shaft to where they form a tight ring for my leaking tip.

“Yes!” Louis cheers next to me, his eyes still glued on his phone. “You were right bro, she’s coming.”

“You sound a little desperate,” Arthur murmurs, his words only meant for me. The raspy sound trickles through my ears and spiral right through to my cock.

Oh God oh God.

“I—” I heave, then clamp my jaw shut. But my hips…I can’t make them stop as they grind into Arthur’s fist, now serving as a perfectly shaped fucktoy.

“I can check what time Mademoiselle Dujardin arrives, sir?” Amadou asks.

Oh God oh God oh God.

“I think any minute now,” Arthur whispers. “If I don’t stop.” It’s so soft, I’m sure no one else heard. And then he removes hishand, leaving me shaking and out of breath, my body balking in confusion. I let out a startled moan and bend forward, desperate to compose myself from the unrelenting high Arthur has left me in and keep the frustration of being prevented from climaxing at bay. I need to safeguard myself from this brutal attack on my carefully built defenses. No one gets this close to me. No one gets to crawl right into my skin like this. How has Arthur managed to breach my defenses? How could I have allowed it to happen so easily?

I wanted it.

---