Lords of Pain (The Royals of Forsyth University #1)(6)

My angry tears spill over, making hot tracks down my face. Tristian keeps his eyes locked on mine, but brings his hand to my cheek, thumbing them away. “Don’t cry, now. We’re just having a good time. You want us to have a good time, don’t you?” My only response is the way I stare at him, wet-eyed and full of hate. He sighs as I suck him. “I don’t get it, Killer,” he says, talking to my stepbrother. “Used to be, we could show a girl a little attention and she’d trip over her own feet to be ours. Nowadays, all these bitches do is fuck around.”

He fists a hand in my hair, yanking me deeper onto his dick, glazed eyes flashing. It makes me cry harder, because that, combined with what Rath is doing to me, is making my hips want to grind into Rath’s hand, and god.

It’s the worst part of all of this, knowing that Rath could be right.

Maybe this is what I am.

A magnet for creeps, something to be used, and a slut for all of it.

Tristian’s head falls back, eyes falling closed, and I’m grateful for the reprieve when the sharp, building ache between my legs reaches a full crescendo, clenching as Rath moves with the movement of my hips. The reprieve doesn’t last long. Tristian thickens and pulses in my mouth, his thick, salty release surging against my tongue. He cups the back of my head and presses me close, holding me there as he empties himself between my lips.

Behind me, Rath grunts, yanking me against his chest, and I’m caught in the middle of them, being pulled two different ways. I hear more than see Killian finish, his rough, breathless groan startling me.

Tristian pulls out of my mouth, but not before he grabs my hair and rasps out, “You know what to do now, don’t you?”

Rath takes his hands out of my shorts and grabs my jaw, forcing my chin up. “Swallow him down, pretty girl.”

It takes me three tries to do it without gagging, but I hold Tristian’s gaze as I obey, swallowing his release. I hope it looks like how Killian had before—hostile—a warning—instead of showing this lost, aching thing in my chest.

“Good,” he says, stroking my cheek. “You’re so good for us, aren’t you, Cherry?”

I don’t know how I manage to get my feet under me, but I do. I clamp my hand over my mouth as I bolt away, the sound of their breathless chuckles following in my wake.





1





Killian



Three Years Later



There’s a knock at the door. “Yo, Killian, time for our first interview.”

“Yeah, give me five minutes.” I grimace. “Maybe ten.”

“Martin isn’t going to wait ten.” It’s Tristian’s voice. He must have just returned from the job on the South Side. “And neither am I.”

I look into my dresser mirror, taking in the rippling hard muscles I’ve spent the last three years refining as starting quarterback on the Forsyth University football team. My body is a work of well-crafted art, and I’m not even talking about the ink covering my arms and chest. It’s designed to dominate. My eyes then shift down to the girl in front of me, bent over the flat surface. Between her big, possibly fake tits, the gold charm from her sorority necklace bounces with every thrust of my hips. Her teeth bare down on her bottom lip.

“Five minutes,” I say again, but it comes out in a grunt that Tristian may not have heard. I don’t give a fuck, slamming into her harder. The mirror bangs against the wall, and the girl—I think her name is Cheryl, possibly Sherry—lets out this sharp, pained whimper. I smirk at her reflection. “That hurt, honey?”

“Y-yes,” she squeaks, brows squeezing together. “A little.”

I grab a bunch of her bleach-blonde hair in my fist and yank it back, growling, “Good.”

It’s getting harder and harder for me to come without a little pain added to the mix. I’ve been pounding into this girl for forty minutes and only now do I feel the tingle in my balls that lets me know that my orgasm is finally building. That whimper, the pinch of pained upset on her face, is swiftly getting me there.

I close my eyes and set my rhythm. Despite the blonde under me, my mind conjures up long dark hair, pale creamy skin, and blue eyes filled with just as much hatred as fear. The ache in my cock builds, tension coiling tighter with every thrust. I reach around to—maybe Shanna’s—chest and grab her tits, pinching her nipples between my fingers.

“Killian, stop,” she begs, trying to pry my hands from her flesh. She squirms, twisting in an attempt to get away, and that finally triggers the orgasm. I pump into her hips, slamming hard and violent into her from behind. Her cunt squeezes around me. Well, as tight as her well-fucked pussy can manage. I’m in the middle of my final thrust when the door opens, Tristian’s head popping inside. His eyes go to the girl’s tits first, then up to my face.

“Killer, all the applicants are downstairs. We’ve put this off long enough. We have to find our Lady before the semester starts tomorrow, so stop fucking around.”

Placing a hand on the sorority girl’s back, I pull out roughly, leaving her bent and breathless across the dresser. My dick feels nearly raw from taking so long. Maybe if her cunt wasn’t so worn out, I could’ve come faster.

But probably not.

Blondes stopped doing anything for me years ago.