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Good thing we like to share—but only with each other.
“Bedrooms are upstairs. Yours will be between ours.
“I’m going to give you a lesson, little babochka, and then I’ll allow Tristan his turn.”
“Did my father…” he says through clenched teeth before he pauses, clearing his throat, leaning toward me as my harsh breathing calms slightly. “Did my father ever hit you, babochka?”
“Do you want to watch a movie with us?”
“We get to choose though, dear Alice.” “And we have…particular tastes.”
Every morning, I have to watch her flee my Escalade in that plaid school girl skirt, mouth watering and cock aching. My control is slipping, and Tristan’s is nearly gone.
We cannot share her with another. Even the thought that she may have already had a boyfriend—a selfish prick with no balls—sets me off. She deserves so much more than a fumbling idiot who wouldn’t appreciate her the way we would.
“We need beer and food,” Tristan grumbles. I roll my eyes, grabbing my keys off the hook before I even make it to the living room. I see what he’s doing, so I throw him a devious smirk. “Come to the store with me, Alice. You can pick out snacks and dinner.”
“Fuck you,” he hisses, though I can tell it is good-natured; a small grin tugs at his lips. I give a shrug as Alice comes back, pulling on her rain coat. Fuck me, she’s stunning, even all bundled up against the rain like she is.
She’s so beautiful in her fear and sorrow, so pure, just like a babochka—a butterfly.
She is color, brightness, new life, and we are rot, decay, carrion. But the beautiful thing about that? The world needs both to function—just like we need her and she needs us.
But then, a loud thud echoes through the house from somewhere upstairs, and Alice lets out a scream, diving for me, spindly arms jutting out to encircle one of mine.
Biting back the impulse to storm in and confess everything, I shove my door open and then slam it closed, locking it for good measure. I barely make it to the shower before I’m stroking my raging hard cock, her name forcing it’s way past my clenched teeth.
I set my phone aside, ringer on high, nerves fraying as my knee bounces.
A knock sounds on the door jamb. Growling, I fall back on her bed, not bothering to cast him a glance. I toss him the diary and wallow in my bliss.
Tonight, she’s going to be ours.
“The tour doesn’t stop here, little butterfly.”
Heat radiates off him in waves as he leans over me, placing his own palms on either side of my frame as my mind whirls and tilts.
“You’re a dirty girl, Alice. But you’re lucky.”
“Why?” I whisper, voice hushed as Tristan moves just behind Jameson, ever present in the tenseness of this moment. Jameson’s smirk broadens, lighting up his face like some sort of menacing demon.
“Because,” he pauses, leaning in, his chest brushing against my erect nipples, his hot lips grazing the shell of my ear. “We’ve wanted to share our little babochka for a while now.”
“Would you like us to share you, Alice? Do you want us to fuck you, lick your cunt until you see stars?”
This poor girl has been through hell and back—she deserves to have her every dark fantasy fulfilled in exactly the way she wants.
“Do you want that, Alice? Because we will give you anything you want. As long as you’re our good girl, we’ll be your fucking slaves.”
“Whatever you want to happen, baby girl,” he says lowly, his voice thickening and slipping deeper into our accent. Her eyes flash to me again before back to his. I can only watch like a hungry wolf.
“Can I make you feel good, babochka?”
“I’ll be here the entire time, little babochka,” Jameson whispers in my ear, making me shudder in nervous delight.
“Not here, babochka. We’re men, not little boys.”
“We know how to make it hurt less when the time comes,” Jameson says from behind me, his voice deep and husky.
“I want…I want to feel good, and I want you both to be the ones to make me feel good,” I say, my voice just a shy whisper.
My eyes slip closed as I shiver in this moment of pure tension. Jameson’s grip on me becomes tighter, his body fiery hot as he leans around me, the prickly feel of his scruff making me shudder as he presses his face in the crook of my neck from behind, inhaling deeply.
At the same moment, Jameson’s tongue languidly darts out, trailing along a pulsing vein in my neck as though tracing the lines to my heart.
It is electrifying, freeing, to feel his lips on mine, so eager. He’s my first kiss, brutal and fast and hungry as his grip on my throat tightens, making me see stars behind my lids.
I mewl into Tristan’s mouth, these sounds I’m making right now ones I know I’ve never made before. He rips himself away, leaving me swaying toward him, but Jameson’s hand snatches my jaw, turning my face to him so he can steal his own first kiss. I melt into him as soon as our lips meet; he’s soft, slow and sensual, his languid motions indicative of how in control he always is; this is my torture, this is his power.
but Jameson growls a harsh Niet in my ear. I shudder at his command and instead whimper, his hand pushing my face back to his. Tristan presses kisses to the tops of my thighs, fingers gently smoothing across the fronts to the soft inner skin. Jameson’s tongue slips between my lips at the same time he pinches my nipple, hard. I cry out as it sends electric shocks of pleasure down into my belly and pussy. The steady throb between my legs aches as more wetness seeps out.
“She’s so fucking wet,” Tristan growls.
“Oh babochka,” he says with a shake of his head, leaning in closer to where I can feel myself dripping. His palms splay on the insides of my thighs, pushing me even farther apart. “I’ve waited for this for too long to give a fuck about that.”
My orgasm doesn’t hesitate, but instead rips through me so fast and so hard that I turn my face toward Jameson’s neck and bite down at his shoulder junction, trying in vain to hold the scream of ecstasy between my teeth.
“You’re so beautiful, babochka, perfect. You’re such a good girl.”
“You want more, baby girl?” he asks as he withdraws his finger before slowly pushing it back in. My mind in a state of such arousal, I am moaning as I nod, the thought of being filled making me animalistic in my fiery need. I can’t even manage to use my words before Jameson nearly makes me come again with what he says.
“Be a good girl and take his fingers in your cunt, Alice. I want to watch you come again.”
“Good girl, such a good girl, come hard for us.”
“Get dressed for dinner, babochka. But your panties stay with me.”
She is ours, and we protect what’s ours.
“We won’t leave your side, babochka. And when Tristan drives us home, I’ll show you why I kept your panties.”
“For instance,” Tristan says proudly. “I like it fucking dirty and rough. I’ll choke you, spit on you, bite you, make you come even when you beg for me to stop.”
“And me, babochka,” Jameson says, tearing my attention away from my fantasy. “I like to tie you up so you cannot move, so your legs are spread and I can see how wet you get for me when I slap your little cunt, when you take your punishments like a good girl.”
“Spread your legs for me, beautiful girl,”
“Such a good listener, babochka. Now open your mouth nice and wide for me.”
