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I don’t say it, but I feel it to the very pit of my being.

In a rare show of frustration, he bites out, “Don’t be difficult, Whitaker. It’s been a long day. I don’t enjoy the thought of sending you there, nor do I appreciate being made to enjoy it even less.”

I couldn’t make my voice less sarcastic if I tried. “Sorry if this is difficult for you.”

He slams his hand down on the desk. “That’s enough insolence! Or should I call one of your brothers in here?” The threat isn’t as potent as it should be. The truth is, Lex and Pace would accept the punishment if they understood why they were getting it. I’d feel guilty about it, but not guilty enough to cave.

Father must sense this, because he snaps upright, holding himself in a perfect, stick-straight posture. “Perhaps I’ll invite your Princess, too.”

This brings me up short. I’m half-convinced it’s a bluff. He’d never really hurt her. She’s too important now, full of our cum and ready to bake that bun.

He’d make her watch, though.

Taking a deep breath, I reply, “What time?”

He doesn’t look nearly as suspicious as he should, re-taking his seat. “Eleven sharp. Your tuxedo will be waiting in your room.” He punctuates the discussion by picking up a stack of papers and tapping them hard on his desk. “I don't know why you insist on pushing me, Wicker. I’ve favored you against your brothers, although god only knows why. I’ve spoiled you to the brink of rottenness. I’ve given you every opportunity to excel in this town, and you continuously spit in my face.” His lips purse tightly, the skin around his mouth going white. “My only hope is that someday soon, you’ll experience what fatherhood is like. Maybe then, you’ll understand the hell you’ve put me through.”

“I’m sorry, Father.” The words are stiff and automatic, my mind too busy racing with a solution to this problem to feel appropriately ashamed.

With a flick of his hand, he dismisses me, not meeting my gaze again.

I take the walk back to Lex’s bedroom with slow, measured steps, but it doesn’t matter. I still get sidetracked darting to the powder room by the landing, the bile rising up my esophagus like claws as I slam onto my knees, heaving my half-finished dinner into the toilet.

I reach out clumsily to flush it down before rising to my feet, grabbing the sink basin to hold myself up. It takes a while for my stomach to feel… not settled, but less violently infected by this sickness roiling around inside of it.

When I flick my eyes up, I catch a glimpse of myself.

My skin is ashen, eyes rimmed with red, hair disheveled and errant. I kick into action, blasting the faucet as hot as it’ll go. The water stings inside my mouth as I swish it around, burning my hands as I frantically scrub them clean. For my eyes, I switch the water to icy cold, splashing it onto my face with prickling palms.

I don’t leave until I look perfect.

Unfortunately, when I arrive at Lex’s room, they’re already gone, their empty plates stacked beside the bed. I find them in Pace’s room instead, Effie skittering excitedly up and down the desk’s edge.

“Gentle,” she chirps, bobbing her head.“Gentle hungry bird.”

The voice is almost an exact echo of Verity.

I blink at her, voice a thin rasp when I ask, “When did that happen?”

My brothers startle like they’ve just been caught whacking off. Going by the image on the computer monitor–a video of Pace spooning Verity in her big bed, his hips rocking as he fucks into her–I’m probably not too far off base.

Pace glances at the bird. “Uh, last week. She gave her some treats. Now everything is gentle-this, gentle-fucking-that.” Rolling his eyes, he returns his focus to the screen. “I was just telling Lex about the plug.”

Right. The plug.

Wiping my palms on my thighs, I sink into the leather couch, remembering a couple days ago when I helped Pace pick it out. I had to talk him out of getting the widest flared base.So she’ll still be tight for me, I argued. I got my way, but the thought of pulling the plug from her just to find Pace’s river of jizz leaking out is…

Actually, pretty hot, now that I think about it.

I’d reach down to adjust my growing boner, but I know I won’t find one–a testament to how revolting the thought of Father’s request–order–truly is.

Without looking away from the screen, Lex asks, “What did he want?”

My stomach flips. “Another escort job.”

Without even looking, I know Pace’s shoulders go tight. He hates the things Father makes me do, sometimes even more than I do. “Who’s this one for?” he asks.

“Just… another one of the usuals.” It’s halfway into being a lie. The truth is, I haven’t seen Mrs. Moore since high school. “Hey, do you remember that Wallis job from a couple years back?”