Rough Exile

“Pathetic.”

Ilya got to his feet and kissed my forehead, then turned and disappeared up the stairs, leaving me hanging and alone with Bron.

“Let me guess—we were having fun, so you just had to interrupt.”

“I wanted water. How was I to know you would be trying to seduce my charge already?”

“What happens between two consenting adults is none of your business.”

“You don’t even know why you’re here,” he said harshly.

“He told me.”

He grumbled something in Russian and paced the kitchen.

I put the dishes in the sink and ran the water, expecting him to stomp off. Instead, he grabbed the counter on either side of me, trapping me. My body was still frustrated and responded to him even though I didn’t want it to.

“Fuck off, Bron,” I snapped, dousing a plate in soapy water and scrubbing it harder than I needed to. The dish water was too hot, but adding cold felt like it would be a display of weakness.

He grabbed my hair and leaned me forward, making me hover over the hot water. I dropped the plate into the sink, and it clanked against the bottom. Hopefully, it hadn’t broken.

“Bron, no.”

With his free hand he tugged up my dress to expose my bare ass. He smacked it hard enough to rattle my teeth.

“No touching each other without my permission.”

“What?”

He speared a finger into me, finding me wet and frustrated. When had he even let go of the countertop? He trapped me, his body crushing me against the counter’s stone.

“You heard me. The two of you need supervision.”

“Why?”

He spat. I thought it was a commentary on what he’d seen us do.

“Were you watching us, you fucking pervert?”

His hand moved between us, and he bared himself.

“No!”

“Shut up.” He’d slicked his fingers with spit and moved them to my ass.

I tried to get away, but he was far, far bigger than me. I wasn’t used to feeling so small and helpless, even after so many tours on the Island.

His fingers were too sure of themselves, and he convinced my body to accept one. I should have taken my own advice to Lanie and kept my ass prepped, but we’d been here for days without anyone paying attention to me. It had never crossed my mind that things might change so suddenly.

“Do you like getting fucked in the ass, woman?”

“Only if the man I’m with knows what he’s doing.”

He barked an ugly laugh. “It’s all I’ve had for so long, I’ve become proficient.”

“Lube?” I requested.

“How about you brace yourself?”

I gritted my teeth when he spat again. At least he was thoughtful enough to do that much. He pressed the broad head of his cock against my asshole and pushed, forcing his way in. I grunted and screeched, but he got into my ass, making my belly cramp and my asshole burn.

“You’re too small.” He pulled partway out and shoved back in, making me feel like I’d split in two. He hadn’t given my body time to adjust.

I squeezed my eyes shut and braced against the wall behind the sink. Heat singed my breast, and I jerked up, arching my back. Hot wash water soaked the fabric over one breast, adding to my discomfort.

He growled into the back of my hair, slamming into me over and over, bruising my hips against the counter. My feet dangled as he angled my hips higher. There was nothing I could do against his onslaught except try not to give him the satisfaction of screaming like he was murdering me. I’d taken men up the ass when they were in this kind of mood plenty of times, but I’d started to feel safe here.

Stupid, stupid girl.

I hated it, but he dug his fingers into my hair, twisting exactly right, turning my head until my neck was bared to him. He bit down, and I shuddered, not wanting to enjoy it, but hating it less despite myself.

It had been years since I’d beaten myself up for liking what I did, but why did I have to enjoy this man being a heinous jerk? Maybe because he was too fucking good at it.

“Were you really going to let him wet his little prick in you?” he snarled. “Two thrusts and he would have been done.”

Ilya’s cock was anything but little, considering how it had felt, but Bron didn’t seem to be in the mood for a friendly debate.

He used me for a long time until my ass screamed for mercy and my legs cramped from the unnatural position. When he came, gasping, I shuddered, feeling like the slightest touch might send me over with him, even though I was hurting.

Without warning, he pulled out and turned me around. Cum dripped from my ass, rolling down the back of my thighs.

“Spread your legs.”

I did, too rattled to disobey. He slapped my pussy through my dress, which had fallen back into place, connecting hard enough to make me squeal. Movement caught my eye, and I saw Ilya watching from the doorway. Of course, he hadn’t left.

Fuck.

I wasn’t sure whether it was worse that Bron had seen me with Ilya or that Ilya had seen me with Bron.

He hit me there again, hurting me, making me feel good.

Ilya was stroking himself through his pants, his gaze hungry.

Desire shuddered through me, mixing with the pain in my ass, and the pain he was inflicting between my thighs.

He grabbed my throat, holding it only tight enough to make my head swim.

“Come for me, little bitch. I know you need to.”

Bron stared into my eyes, and with the next slap I came apart, crying out, shaking, my knees weak as I caught myself on the counter with my elbows.

Across the room from us, Ilya’s jaw set, and he came too, spurts of cum leaving wet lashes down the front of his pants.

“Like I said—both of you are pathetic.” Bron gazed down his nose at me and let go of my throat. He crossed the room to Ilya and slapped him in the balls, then caught him by the hair and dragged him up the stairs behind him.

I stood there, blinking after him.

Unfortunately, smitten.