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A glob of cum follows it.

Pace is there before it can fall, two of his slender fingers guiding it back inside.

Verity is quiet now, her chest heaving with these little hitched sobs. She’s still looking away, her wet eyelashes clumped together as she stares unblinkingly into the distance. There’s snot on her face. Red cheeks. That bead of blood smeared over her mouth. She already looks absolutely fucking wrecked, and my chest swells with an odd, primal pride–the pride of knowing I’m the one who did it.

Nodding at Pace, I say, “You’re up.”

29

Wicker

I’ve never had a girlfriend.

Probably the closest I’ve ever come was this chick in eighth grade who lived behind our boarding school. We saw each other five times, making out behind the batting cages until her porch light came on. A lot of second and third base references that spring. I never even knew her last name. She wasn’t pretty. She was just available. For boarding school boys, that basically makes any girl the center of his universe.

But somehow Verity rose to the top of that very short list.

She’s never been my girlfriend. She’s my responsibility. My obligation. My duty. But there for a blink, I found myself wanting something from her besides sex, and I don’t even know what that thing is. Comfort? An ally? A confidant?

No, I have my brothers for that.

I wanted something else from Verity–even sought her out that day I learned about Mayfield. I wanted to look at someone and feel that spark of optimism and promise. I wanted her to look back at me and see someone strong and… what was it?

Worthy.

That’s it.

It’s not that I liked Verity Sinclaire.

It’s that, there for a second, I wanted her to like me. I wanted to know how it felt to have her on my arm. To know what the fuss is about at the end of the day, when a man sinks into a woman he shares a life with. To understand this spark of excitement in my chest at the thought of her wanting to know those things too.

And it was a lie.

Not just for her, but for me too.

The truth is, I’m not made for that. Never was. Those five times behind the batting cages with the groundskeeper’s daughter were a fluke, and this last month with Verity was just the pathetic result of my own lapse in judgment.

Which is why, as I watch my brother shove the gold plug into Verity’s mouth, saying, “Maybe we should’ve used this to keep your fucking mouth shut instead of your pussy,” I feel nothing.

Well, in my heart. My cock is steel, because I’m still a man. And nothing gets me harder than a traitor getting what’s coming to them. Especially when it’s this personal.

He’s been at it for at least twenty minutes already, his hips driving into her as she lays there on the table, thighs spread obscenely wide. Lex is on the other side of the table holding her down, her wrists clenched in his fists. Predictably, Pace is taking his time, drawing this out to last as long as possible. Not everyone is as refined at the art of denial as he is. Two guys in the front row grit their teeth, probably one stroke from spilling their load. They wouldn’t dare, though. It’s against therulesto waste their seed tonight, and it’s beyond satisfying, watching the frat get a taste of what I’ve endured these last few weeks.

Pushing my resentment aside, I step next to my brother, looking down at her pussy. Lex’s cum coats Pace’s cock–nature’s lube. Verity looks up at me, mouth stuffed with the gold plug, and I see her green eyes glazing over. “Stay with us, Red.” I snap my fingers over her face, jolting her back to reality. “You don’t get to fade out before I’ve had my turn.”

But Verity’s worn-out pussy getting hammered is something she’s used to. Day in and day out, we pump into her, hoping our seed will take root, making this all come to an end. That’s not the motive today, though. For once,creationisn’t our primary focus.

Punishment is.

Unzipping my pants, I pull out my cock and pump my hand up and down as I take in the scene. It’s a shame, really. Verity has a fantastic body, when she actually uses it. Right now, it’s all scuffed up with red marks and her overworked flush. She’s not fighting against Lex’s grip anymore. She’s just laying there like a fuck doll.

I step between her legs, hip to hip with my brother, and say, “Maybe this will wake you up and remind you who you belong to.”

Pace makes room for me without needing to be asked, his cock dragging in and out as I nudge mine into her folds. I nearly come when I feel the slick heat brush against my tip.Not yet, I tell myself. Fuck no. This girl, this punishment–it all belongs to me.

I grab the base of Pace’s dick to feel his rhythm, then I push in with my brother, stretching her with both of our cocks at once.

Eyes slamming shut, she screams, the sound muffled around the plug. Her body shudders, a conflict of tension and release, knowing if she fights us, it’ll hurt so much more.