Page 47 of Tarnished Embers
“Fuck, Cinders…” Cas moans, thrusting hard and burying himself deep inside me as my orgasm pulls him under.
Oct thrusts once, twice, then he’s pushing Cas deeper as he, too, finds release with a sexy fucking groan that prolongs my climax, my nails biting into Cas’s shoulders.
“Open your eyes, baby,” Cas commands in a rough voice. “Look at Kit and Prince. Watch how you undo them, how Prince lets Kit take control just because he knows it turns you on.”
My body reacts before my fevered mind has caught up, and my eyes blink open, showing me a vision that I know will be burned on my retinas for fucking years.
Kit has a tight grip on Prince’s hair and is using it to fuck his mouth with brutal force, Prince grasping Kit’s thighs and taking it, tears streaming down his cheeks, but neither of their eyes are on each other. No, both are laser-focused on me, and then Cas’s fingers move again on my clit.
“Shit! Cas, I c–can’t,” I sob, my body wriggling to get away, but he doesn’t let me, Oct pushing down on us both and trapping me.
“Just one more, baby. For Kit.” His words are a rough command, and I’m helpless to deny his request.
Kit growls. “You don’t look away from me, Ember. You hold my gaze while he makes you come again.”
Although my body trembles and my nerves are fried, the orgasm is wrenched from me as I keep my eyes on Kit’s, his intense stare demanding me to come for them again.
And I do.
I scream, my entire body going white-hot and molten as my climax tears me apart. I can’t see Kit anymore, I can’t see anything, blinded by such exquisite pleasure that I’m not sure I’ll ever come down from the high. My body writhes as my nerves are set ablaze, my orgasm unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.
Then the weight lifts off me, Cas’s dick slips free, and I’m lifted into arms that smell like rum and leather and feel like home. Prince’s lips come down to mine, and even with my eyes closed I can feel how puffy and swollen they are.
He kisses me softly, reverently, like I am his entire world. He tastes like Kit, and I slowly lick inside his mouth, chasing the taste of my other stepbrother.
“You are so fucking perfect, Sugar,” he whispers against my lips. Goosebumps cover my skin, the slight chill of leaving the warm dining room forcing me to open my eyes fully to find that he’s headed for the stairs.
“I–I have to clean the breakfast things,” I say, my voice all kinds of hoarse. I guess that’s what having multiple orgasms will do to a girl.
“The others will take care of that while I take care of you, darlin',” he tells me softly, his own voice husky and rasping. “We’ll help you with the guest rooms too.”
I snuggle closer in his arms, warmth filling my entire body.
I am no longer alone.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
“OLD MONEY” BY LANA DEL RAY
KIT
The party is tomorrow, and I suspect I’m not the only one who feels sick to my stomach about what will happen. Prince told us what Odette said, that if we didn’t comply, she’d use Ember as one of the principal attractions.
I wasn’t the only one to throw something against the wall when he delivered that blow, and what’s worse is we can’t do a fucking thing about it, because we have nothing. No jobs. No money. Fucking nothing. It’s taken Ember coming into our lives to hit that point home.
It’s a fucking shitshow, and I don’t know how to get us out of it.
“Hey,” Prince greets, slipping into the wicker chair next to mine on the patio, the tinkling of water from the fountain in front of us filling the air. It’s warmer today, the spring sun shining down, and although it’s nowhere near the temperature it gets to in Cali, it’s pleasant. So we sat outside for a bit, looking out over the vast garden. It’s looking a little wild, and I wonder how long it will be before Odette suggests Ember takes care of it as well as the house.
My fists clench in my lap.
“Kit.” Prince sighs, reaching over and grasping my shoulder. “I’ll find a way, Kit. I just need more time—” His voice sounds as frustrated as I feel.
“How?!” I shout, the birds startling in the trees and taking flight. I leap out of the chair, spinning to face him, my vision tinged red with pent-up anger at our situation. “How the fuck are you going to get us out of this, Prince? She has us by the fucking balls and there’s shit we can do about it, just like always.”
He flinches, and guilt makes my throat go tight at my insinuation. That somehow he’s to blame for his mother’s behaviour. I know he used to be taken with the idea of free pussy, even if it was older than we would have chosen ourselves, but free and we make some money from it? We all signed up without worrying too much about the stain on our souls.
Plus, Odette always made it seem like not a big deal, and that we owed her for taking us in after the death of our fathers. My chest tightens as it always does when I think about Dad, about how different our lives would have been if he hadn’t got in that car to pick us up.