Father (Blood Brotherhood 1)

It is not long before my climax begins to surge and swell with his motions, giving me the pleasure I desperately need to forget the weightier concerns that threaten to drag me into the depths of despair.

He reaches underneath me and finds my clit, strumming it with his fingers. I am wet and I am dripping from our nexus.

“Such a wet little cunt," he growls in my ear. Everything he says to me is pure filth.

“Yes! Yes!” I’m coming. Orgasm is rushing through me. Through him. He's flooding me with his massive cock, stretching me wide and holding himself as deep as he can go as his cum coats my inner walls.

“Oh… Ivy,” he moans.

Everything comes to a screeching halt. I wasn't actually moving, but all my thoughts and the pleasure, it all stops, though his thrusting doesn’t.

“Did you just scream my mom's name?”

“What?”

“You said Ivy.”

“I said I, thee…”

We both know he's lying, but I don’t have the nerve to call him on it.

“You think I’m not invested in your tight cunt?” He growls the question in my ear. “You think you’re not the only thing I care about right now?”

He pulls out of me and turns me over. I push my skirt down. He's not getting back inside me.

“I think I look like my mom, and you have a shrine to her. I think you’re using me as some fucked up sick way to sleep with her. I think you don’t know me at all.”

There is a moment of horrible tension where he looks down at me with that horribly handsome face, and those eyes that now seem like two voids of absolute depravity.

“Okay,” he says with a short laugh. “You got me.”

“I got you?”

“Yes, I said her name. For a moment I was… elsewhere.”

“Dude. Gross!”

“I apologize. A slip of the tongue.”

It was so fucking hot, right up until now. I am realizing that Bryn hasn’t been fucking me at all. He’s been using me like a human blow-up doll stand-in for my mom.

“My mom is dead. You can’t use me to fuck her. I’m getting Jonah and we’re leaving.”

That is all it takes to break the bond of gothic misery. I can stand him being an asshole. I can forgive him being brutal and cruel and sometimes crude. But I cannot put up with being used in stead of my own fucking mother.

I run out of the dining room and up to Jonah’s room. It's empty. The bed is made. It looks like it's been cleaned out, which makes no fucking sense because Jonah never cleans anything.

Bryn is not far behind me. He’s attempting to calm me down and explain himself, but there's nothing to explain. It's bad enough to say someone else’s name during sex, but to say their mother’s name is a level of sick puppy not even I can tolerate.

“Where's Jonah?”

“I don't know.” He crosses big arms across his chest and looks at me with barely veiled impatience. He is annoyed that I am angry. He thinks I am making too much of a small thing. He is fucked in the head. He warned me not half an hour ago. Why didn’t I listen? Why do I never listen?

“You're lying.”

“Do not accuse me of untruth, Nina.”

“Why? Because it is too accurate? What have you done with him? I haven’t seen him since the chapel!”

“Since you spread your legs and gave yourself to me, happily allowing yourself to be desecrated while your wastrel brother abandoned you and fled?”

“Jonah didn’t abandon me.” I wish I could sound more certain about that. Maybe he did run away. It would be like him. He used to run away all the time. Then I remember this is all Bryn’s fault. “You put him in a cemetery room! And you tried to fucking stab him! You probably scared him so bad he had to run away.”

“You slept with me minutes after I did those things, remember that before you come over all offended, pretty one.”

“Are you calling me pretty one because you think I’m pretty, or because you can’t remember my name and you’re trying not to call me Ivy again?”

He doesn’t dignify that question with an answer. He just gives me one of those dark looks that hides a multitude of sins.

“Do you ever get tired of blaming other people for Jonah’s misdeeds? Making enemies of the world so you can defend someone who repeatedly leads you into danger and leaves you to suffer the consequences of his actions?”

“Are you going to get him back?” I change the subject.

“Crichton is already on the case.”

I let out a breath. “Okay. Good. Don’t be too harsh on him when you find him. He really doesn’t know any better.”

“I’ll do what needs to be done. You can go to your room.”

I scowl at him. “And if I don't want to?”