“Yes, Zeke.”
“Beg for it.”
Brax’s lips clamped shut and I held my breath, waiting.
“If you don’t beg, I’ll stop the machine while that toy’s lodged in your ass. You want that? To be stuck there impaled on that fake dick?”
Again, Brax didn’t respond, his eyes narrowed, his anger apparent.
“Beg me, fuck toy!” Zeke commanded, his voice deeper than before. “Fucking beg.”
When the toy inched forward again, Brax moaned, the strain on his face lessening.
“Please,” he groaned.
“Not enough, fuck toy. I said beg!”
“Shit!” Brax cried out, his body jerking within the restraints. “Please, Zeke. Fuck! I need more.”
“Tell me,” Zeke barked.
“Oh, fuck…” Brax moaned. “More. Please. More.”
“You want that fake dick to drill you harder?’
“Yes. Please.”
“Faster?” Zeke asked.
“Yes. Please, Zeke. Give me more.”
Christ. Just hearing Brax’s tortured pleas drove me damn near insane. Almost as much as watching Zeke kiss him, acting as though it didn’t mean anything. It meant a hell of a lot more for me, that was for sure. I could get lost in Brax’s kiss for hours. In fact, we’d done that before. Making out like teenagers on the couch on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Kissing, groping, fondling. I’d almost say I enjoyed those moments more than any other.
“Harder!” Brax cried out. “I need more.”
Zeke moved around to the machine. He picked up the lube and squirted it on the toy, coating it liberally as it retreated from Brax’s ass. When he stepped back, the machine sped up, pushing into Brax and retreating over and over. He was impaled on that damn thing, unable to move from the restraints. His hands were balled into fists, his teeth grinding together as he moaned and groaned, begging Zeke to give him more.
I watched in awe, loving the way Brax gave himself over to it, hating that I needed this.
Suddenly the machine slowed and Brax groaned.
“Tell me, cowboy. Tell me you won’t let your petty jealousy fuck this up. Tell me you understand I’m not here as your lover or his. I’m using you both. Taking what I want when I want it. How I want it. It means nothing to me. When it’s over, you and the pretty boy can go back to playing house all day long. I have no interest in that. Tell me you understand that.”
“I understand, Zeke. I’m your fuck toy. That’s all.”
The machine picked up speed again, this time drilling into Brax again and again.
“May I come, Zeke?” He growled low in his throat. “Please let me come.”
“Yes.”
A few seconds later, a few more solid thrusts from that machine and Brax was crying out as his cock jerked. He came on a low growl, his eyes rolling back in his head.
I stood there motionless, my breaths coming in almost as rapidly as Brax’s.
Zeke turned to face me, his eyes cold, his expression masked.
“He’s your responsibility,” he bit out before heading to the stairs. He tossed a key my way. “Get him off that thing and the two of you can go meet the movers.”
He didn’t wait for a response before he jogged up the stairs.
Out of sight, out of mind.
At least for him.
NINETEEN
ZEKE
Friday, October 19
“THIS IS A FIRST,” JAMIE said when I walked into the diner that morning. She was already sitting at our favorite table, sipping apple juice. “I was surprised to get the text last night.”
In an effort to avoid her feeling the stress that was a living, breathing thing inside my house, I had shot Jamie a text last night letting her know I had an early meeting and that I would meet her at the diner. While I could’ve forgone breakfast altogether, I hadn’t wanted to miss the opportunity to spend time with her. There were too many excuses one could come up with not to spend time with those they loved. I wasn’t about to make up one at this point.
“Sorry,” I said as I took a seat across from her. “Busy at work. Got a day full of interviews.”
Jamie stared back at me and it was obvious she didn’t buy my bullshit.
“Or you didn’t want me to have a chance to talk to your toys,” she stated, her tone curious but not quite questioning.
I kept my expression masked. The last thing I wanted was for Jamie to worry about me. She might’ve been my kid sister, but I knew she worried about me as much as I worried about her. And after the debacle with my ex four years ago, she was always touchy when she thought I might be getting close to someone.
Not that I had. Not before the fuck toys and not now.
“So, how’s school?” I asked after the waitress had delivered my coffee and confirmed my order.
“Good.”
Of course it was.
“I have a question for you,” she finally stated after a few minutes of strained silence.
“What’s that?”
“Have you ever wondered why someone would need the pain you dish out?”
