Page 35 of Addicted

“Okay.”

Leaning over, I place a soft kiss on her lips, tasting the saltiness of my release. Reluctantly, I curl up and get off the bed, swooping to pick up my discarded clothes, but not bothering to put them on as I head towards the door.

“Aeron?” I pause, my fingers wrapped around the handle as I turn back to look at her. She’s standing now, looking freshly fucked and fucking glorious, her hair a mass of tumbling red waves. My grip on the handle tightens. “Thank you,” she says, biting her lip and looking at me, her light blue eyes sparkling with uncertainty. They dart down to my left pec, to the Tailors’ shears tattooed there that look like they’re cutting into my skin, before she brings them back up to my face. “For the clothes, and, well…”

Something fights within me, a part of me recognizing how fucked up it is for her to thank us for giving her clothes. She should have them by rights, but another part relishes having that power over her, knowing that she is under my control.

“You’re welcome, Dove.”

Then I turn away from the siren behind me and open the door to find Jude smirking on the other side.

“You had a cuntcuddle without me, bro,” he pouts, crossing his arms over his bare chest. I blink, noting that there are no recent scars, and the tension that I always hold in my shoulders drops when I see the lack of them. I hate that my brother needsto cut himself to help when things get too much, it’s why I encouraged him to learn how to tattoo and why I was one of the first he inked up. He has a fresh tattoo though. A lark right above his fucking heart. His lips tilt upwards when he sees the direction of my glare. “Next time.”

Stepping to the side, he allows me to pass, and I turn to see him saunter to the waiting beauty still standing there, looking too fucking tempting covered in cum.

My jaw drops as he tilts her head to the side, and licks up the side of her cheek, clearing the cum that was dripping down it. Specifically,mycum that was dripping down it.

Shaking my head, I turn away from the sight of my brother licking up my release like it’s his favorite dessert and stalk towards my bedroom and the shower that’ll wash off her sweet, intoxicating scent.

It won’t help clear away the grip she has on my soul though. No, that’s hers, hook, line, and sinker.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“MONSTERS - ACOUSTIC VERSION” BY RUELLE

LARK

After Jude lapped up his brother’s cum off my face—which shouldn't be as fucking hot as it is—he swatted my ass and told me to get into the shower so that, and I quote, ‘my fine ass would be ready to do some riding of something other than Tailor cock’.

Fucking twisted bastard.

Getting out of the shower, and after brushing my teeth with the spare brush that Tarl gave me, I head into the bedroom to find it unoccupied. I can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief at being alone for a moment.

The Tailor boys consume me when they’re around, and I lose sight of who I am and what I’m doing here. All I want is their touch, their fucking approval, and I’ve not wanted a man’s approval since my father gave me away to his best friend the day after my twelfth birthday.

But I want theirs, and it leaves me all kinds of confused and messed up. Not to mention the unease that coils in my stomach at the thought of my task here.

Picking up the ointment that Jude left me, I head over to the full-length mirror and swipe some over the sore and raised skin, the calming scent of lavender washing over me. I study the design as I work, having to admit that it is beautiful, even if he’s chained me up.

And what the fuck did he mean by ‘not all chains keep you from flying’?

Fucked if I know.

Sighing, I set the pot down and head over to the bed where my clothes are neatly laid out. Jude must have picked them up after Aeron dropped them earlier before he rocked my fucking world.

There’s a henley-style, short-sleeved shirt in a delicate pink shade, and what looks like tight leggings, only they have extra pieces of thicker fabric along the inside of the legs. There’s also a set of lacy lingerie in dusky pink, and I breathe a sigh of relief at the soft lace bralette instead of an actual bra. My back is still healing, the fresh skin that now covers the lashes a little sore, my new tattoo adding to the pain.

Picking up the underwear first, I slip the panties on and can’t help turning to admire the way the lace shorts make my ass look peachy. The bralette goes on next, and even this small amount of fabric feels strange after so long without clothes.

Once I’m fully dressed, I walk over to look at myself in the mirror, turning round to see that the leggings hug my ass like a second skin.

“How the fuck did they know my size?” I whisper, looking over my reflection to confirm that everything fits me to perfection.

“We know everything about your body, Pretty Bird,” a deep, melodic voice says from the doorway and I jump at the sound.

“Fucking hell, Tarl. You scared the shit out of me!”

“Such a dirty little mouth,” he says, his tone husky as he stalks into the room towards me. He moves like a jungle cat, all feline grace and coiled danger. His mismatched eyes bore into me, and I wish I could read the emotion in their depths. “If we had more time, I would fill it.”