Chapter 4

Isla’s POV~

Brock didn’t say a word at first. He just stood there, looking down at me with those dark, dead eyes. Then he reached out. His thumb was rough, calloused from fighting, and he dragged it across the corner of my bottom lip. He pressed down hard, forcing my mouth open a little.

"Go on," he said. "Suck us off. We’re waiting, Isla."

Heat hit my face instantly. It wasn't just embarrassment; it was pure, boiling rage. I wanted to spit in his face. I wanted to scream that I would rather die than touch them. The words were right there in my throat: Over my dead body.

But I looked at Slade. He was leaning against the dresser, unzipping his jeans. I knew what would happen if I said no. They wouldn't just leave. They would hurt me. They would break my fingers or my jaw just to teach me a lesson. Survival instinct kicked in.

I swallowed the hate. I swallowed the scream.

I moved forward, the carpet was rough against my knees. I positioned myself between them.

Slade and Brock moved in sync. They shoved their boxers down, not bothering to take them off all the way, just bunching them around their ankles.

My breath caught in my throat.

They were both huge. Thick. Long. The veins on their shafts were prominent, pulsing with their heartbeats. Brock’s was darker, heavier, curving slightly to the left. Slade’s was straight and angry-looking, the head already flushed a deep, dusky red. There was moisture beading at the tips. It dripped down the sides.

"Open," Slade commanded. He stepped closer, his knees bumping my shoulders.

I opened my mouth. I was terrified they wouldn't fit. I was terrified I would choke.

Brock moved to my left, Slade to my right. They didn't shove it in right away. They rubbed the heads against my lips, smearing precum over my mouth. It tasted salty.

Then Slade pushed forward. Just the head.

It stretched my lips, hot and hard. I gagged instinctively, my eyes watering.

"Relax your throat," Brock murmured, his hand tangling in my hair, not pulling, just holding me there. "Breathe through your nose."

I tried. I forced my jaw to unhinge. Slade slid in deeper. An inch. Then two. I could feel the ridge of the head hitting the back of my throat. It was too much. I panicked, pulling back.

"Uh-uh," Slade growled. He grabbed my head with both hands, holding me still. "Stay."

He pushed again. Deeper this time. I gagged, tears spilling over, but he didn't stop. He bottomed out. I was full of him. I could feel the pulse of his cock against my tongue.

And then... something snapped.

A sudden, violent rush of heat that started in my belly and exploded outward. It felt like drinking hot cocoa on a freezing day, but a thousand times stronger. The fear didn't go away, but it got covered up by a thick, heavy blanket of need.

My body betrayed me. My nipples, which had been hard from cold and fear, suddenly ached with a sharp, sweet pain. My pussy clenched desperately, getting wet instantly. I realized with a jolt of horror that I didn't want to pull away.

I started to suck.

I didn't mean to. My mouth just moved. I hollowed my cheeks, pulling back, and then slid forward again. I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock, chasing the dripping fluid.

"Look at that," Brock whispered, his voice sounding strained. "She’s actually doing it."

I looked up at him through my lashes. He was staring at my mouth, his eyes blown wide, black swallowing the brown. He looked hungry.

I felt a surge of power. A dark, twisted kind of power. I was on my knees, broken, but I was the one making them shake.

I reached out with my hand and grabbed Brock’s shaft. It was heavy, and hot. I stroked him, twisting my wrist at the top. He hissed, his hips bucking forward.

"Fuck," he breathed.

I took Slade deeper. I relaxed my throat and let him slide in until my nose was buried in his pubic hair. I hummed around him, the vibration making Slade’s knees buckle.

I looked from Slade to Brock. They had the same jawline. The same nose. The same cruel, beautiful eyes.

Suddenly, my brain misfired.

I wasn't seeing Brock anymore. I saw Maddox.

Why do I like this? I should be hating them. I should be planning their deaths. But the heat in my blood was singing a different song. Why?

The confusion was maddening. I was sucking Slade’s brother, but my heart was screaming for the third. The pleasure was overwhelming. I was getting wetter by the second, my thighs rubbing together to create friction. I liked being dominated. I liked being forced to my knees. It felt... right. It felt like I belonged there.

I sped up. I bobbed my head faster, my hand working Brock in time with my mouth on Slade.

"She’s getting into it," Slade groaned, his hand tightening in my hair. "Look at her eyes. She’s gone."

I was lost in the haze. The pheromones in the room were so thick I was high on them. I felt drunk.

Just as I was deep-throating Slade, feeling the head hit the back of my throat, Brock grabbed my chin and pulled me off.

The loss of contact made me whine.

Brock didn't look angry. He looked... possessive. He was the eldest. The leader. He crouched down so he was eye-level with me.

"You’re doing good, birthday girl," he said, his voice was rough. He ran his thumb over my swollen, spit-slicked lips. "But you’re getting too comfortable. You’re enjoying this too much."

He stood up, pulling me up with him by my arm. He spun me around and pushed me face-first onto the mattress. The sheets were cool against my burning cheek.

"We didn't say you could stop," Brock said.

I felt the bed dip behind me with two bodies.

"Spread your legs," Slade ordered from behind me.

I shook my head, the last bit of resistance flickering. "Please..."

"Spread them," Brock repeated, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Or we make you watch while we spread them ourselves.”

I spread them. I was trembling.

I felt hands on my jeans. The button popped. The zipper hissed. They pulled my jeans and panties down to my ankles in one rough motion. The cool air hit my wet, swollen folds, making me gasp.

"Look at this," Slade murmured, his hand sliding between my legs from behind. He rubbed his fingers through my wetness, coating them. "She’s soaking. She wants this."

"She’s a slut for it," Brock agreed.

I felt the heat of them lining up behind me. I couldn't see them, but I could feel the radiating heat. I felt the broad, blunt head of a cock pressing against my entrance.

I arched my back, pushing back instinctively. I didn't want to fight anymore. I wanted to be filled. I wanted the pain and the pleasure to mix together until I couldn't tell them apart.

"Ready?" Brock whispered in my ear, his chest pressing against my back.

"Yes," I breathed.

"Take it," Slade growled.

Brock pushed forward.

He was bigger than I expected. He stretched me. I cried out, my fingers clawing at the sheets. It hurt. It felt like I was being split open.

"Shh," Brock soothed, though he didn't stop. He bottomed out, burying himself to the hilt. I could feel his balls slap against my ass.

He stayed there for a second, letting me adjust, letting me feel how full I was. Then he pulled back and slammed forward.

A breath left my lungs in a rush.

"Oh shit," I whimpered.

"That's it," Slade said. He moved to the front of the bed, kneeling between my spread legs. He grabbed my face and forced me to look at him. "Look at me while he fucks you."

I looked into Slade's eyes. They were dark, swirling with lust. He reached down and rubbed his thumb over my clit, hard circles that sent sparks of electricity up my spine.

Brock set a rhythm that was hard. Fast. Brutal. The bed frame banged against the wall.

“Fuck… Isla you’re fucking too tight for a slut.”

Every time he slammed into me, I saw stars. The pleasure was building. I was moaning, loud, guttural sounds I didn't recognize as my own.

"You like that?" Brock grunted in my ear, his teeth grazing my neck. "You like being our toy?"

"Yes," I sobbed. "Yes, please."

Slade leaned down and kissed me. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a claiming. He bit my lower lip, tasting himself and me. His tongue invaded my mouth, mimicking what his brother was doing to my body.

Brock didn’t ask. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back. The pain was sharp. He spun me around and shoved me down.

My knees hit the carpet. It scratched my skin.

"Look," he commanded.

I was facing the dresser mirror. The glass was dusty. I saw a girl with wild hair, swollen lips, and eyes that looked dead inside.

Slade was behind me. I heard the heavy thud of his boots hitting the floor. He kicked my legs apart gently. I felt air hit my wet, exposed pussy. It was humiliating. I was dripping, and the cool air made my clit throb.

"Eyes on the mirror, Isla," Slade growled.

I looked. In the glass, I saw Slade’s hand wrap around his cock. It was thick, vein-roped. He spat on the head, a glob of saliva that hung there for a second before he smeared it down the shaft. He didn't use his hand to guide it. He used the head to slap my clit.

The sensation shot up my spine like electricity. I gasped, my hips bucking forward.

"Please," I whispered. I didn't know what I was begging for.

"Shh," Brock said. He stepped into my line of sight. His cock was still hard, curving up toward his stomach.

He didn't wait. He grabbed my jaw, forcing my mouth open, and shoved himself in.

I gagged. The head hit the back of my throat. My eyes watered instantly. He was too big. I couldn't breathe.

"Breathe through your nose," Brock said, his voice cold. He didn't pull out. He held me there, letting me panic.

Then Slade moved.

He grabbed my hips with hands like iron claws and drove into me.

I screamed around Brock’s cock. It felt like he was splitting me in half. The burn was blinding.

"Fuck, she's tight," Slade hissed. He pulled out and slammed back in. Hard.

The mirror shook. I watched my own body jerk forward with every thrust. I looked like a ragdoll. Brock was fucking my face, Slade was fucking my pussy.

And my body... goddess help me, my body betrayed me.

The pain in my pussy mixed with the stretch in my throat. It created a heavy, dark heat in my belly. I looked at my reflection. I looked wrecked. And I looked hungry.

I hate them. I’m doing this to Maddox. I’m letting them use me because he threw me away.

The thought of Maddox seeing this, seeing me choked on his brother’s cock while the other one ruined my pussy, sent a spike of wetness gushing out of me. It coated Slade’s thighs. This was revenge. I wished Maddox was here to witness this for himself. He would have wanted to die.

"Look at that," Slade groaned, seeing the mess. "She’s leaking all over me. She loves being filled."

He reached around and pinched my clit. Hard.

I shattered.

My back arched. I came with a scream that was muffled by Brock’s cock. My pussy clamped down on Slade, spasming so hard it hurt. I felt the wet heat of my own release soaking his balls.

"Swallow it," Brock ordered.

I felt him pulse in my mouth. Hot, salty cum shot down my throat. I gagged, but I swallowed. I had to.

Slade roared behind me. He drove into me one last time, grinding his hips against my ass. Then filled me marking me from the inside.

We stayed like that for a minute. Me on my knees, them towering over me.

I felt... dirty. Ruined. But also... powerful.

Then suddenly the grandfather clock in the house struck. It was already midnight.

A sudden, icy numbness shot up my tailbone. It rattled my teeth. My vision blurred. I winced.

And then a smell hit.

It wasn't sweat anymore. It was pine. Rain. Burnt sugar. It was the most delicious thing I had ever smelled. It hit me in the chest hard.

Brock, who was still softening in my mouth, went rigid.

Slade, whose knot was still buried deep inside me, stopped breathing.

I looked in the mirror.

Their eyes.

The brown was gone. The hazel was gone. Their pupils had blown out until their eyes were solid, abyssal black.

They both inhaled at the same time.

"What..." Slade’s voice wasn't a growl anymore. It was a terrified whisper. He buried his face in my neck, inhaling my scent like a drowning man finding air. "No. No, that’s..."

Brock pulled out of my mouth, his chest heaving. He looked at Slade. Then he looked at me. His hand, which had been gripping my hair, started to shake.

"Isla?" Brock choked out.

"MATE!" They shouted a primal, guttural roar together that shook the windows.

“Holy shit!” Slade cursed. “It’s… Her!”