Total pages in book: 15
Estimated words: 14237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 71(@200wpm)___ 57(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 71(@200wpm)___ 57(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
I glowered over my shoulder.
Suzette stood with her back to the open door, her maid uniform pressed and neat like always. Clearly, she’d seen Tess spread half-naked with my cock impaled inside her, but I didn’t try to cover up or explain.
She’d seen far worse.
All of our staff had.
Because…our household was unique.
Tess and I’s relationship wasn’t explainable to outsiders yet those who lived with us accepted us. They were trustworthy. They were our friends…family.
No one blinked an eye if Tess appeared at breakfast with teeth marks on her throat or crawled beneath the table at the snap of my fingers for her to suck me.
It’d taken a while to accept that they wouldn’t judge who I was. And even longer to indulge in my deviant appetites.
But now, nothing could stop me because…I was happy.
I was fucking happy even with scum running around in the world. Buying and trading, kidnapping and trafficking. Scum that would one day die by my hand or someone else’s. Scum that I used to believe lived inside me until Tess showed me I only wanted to kill her because she was my mirroring piece. My reflection of depravity. My monster just like I was hers.
“Not now, Suzette,” Tess moaned and flopped her wrist over her forehead like some frustrated damsel. “Can’t you see we’re a little busy?”
Suzette’s soft laughter came from the hallway. “I did see and I can’t unsee, mon ami. But…Q is needed downstairs. There’s someone here to see him.”
“What?” Sighing hard, I withdrew and stuffed my wet cock into my dark grey slacks and zipped up. “Who the hell is making house calls at seven p.m. on a Sunday?” I rolled my eyes as I helped Tess up and wrapped her in her dressing gown. “It’s not my asshat of a friend Frederick, is it? If it is, tell him I’m about to play with my wife and whatever nonsense he has to say, it can wait until tomorrow at the office.”
“It’s not Frederick,” Suzette said quietly. “It’s eh…I don’t really know how to say this, Q, but…it’s your brother.”
Chapter Two
Q
BROTHER?
I didn’t have a fucking brother.
I was an only child.
Well, only legitimate child.
My raping cunt of a father sired many others, with many other women who weren’t my alcoholic mother. Other kids who I’d found hidden in a room attached to the stable block tucked in the estate’s sprawling gardens. Kids ranging from infants to almost teens. All of them scared into silence and beaten into obedience. Their short lives used as a leash to control the unwilling harem my father kept in his bed.
Tess chased me down the stairs, her hands securing her dressing gown, hiding her nakedness. Rounding on her at the bottom, I snarled, “No way is another man seeing you in that scrap of a gown. I can see your nipples, esclave.”
“Don’t get all territorial. It’s your cum trickling down my leg, no one else’s.”
My heart kicked. “And let’s keep it that way. Go.” I pointed back up the stairs. “Go and change. Give me ten minutes. I want to speak to him alone.”
Her eyes flashed with familiar grey-blue fire.
Catching her around the nape, I breathed into her ear, “And don’t rinse my cum away. I want you sticky and used. I want you to stay in that state until I have you again tonight.”
Her lips twitched as she bowed her head, then flew back the way she’d come.
I had to readjust my cock again.
Damn woman.
Suzette skirted past me, heading to Franco’s awaiting arm. He hugged her and shrugged at me. “What’s going on?” he asked quietly.
I raised an eyebrow. “Who the fuck knows. Extortion? A threat? If he thinks he can milk me for money, he’s going to find out it’s a very bad idea to mess with me.”
“He’s in the library,” Suzette said, keeping her voice down. “When I first opened the door, I swear I was looking at a younger version of you, Q, but…different too. I knew he had your blood even before he told me who he was.”
“And who is he?” I raked a hand through my short dark hair, doing my best to stop thinking about Tess and my cum leaking down her leg.
“His name is Henri Ward.”
“Nationality?”
Where did this little bastard end up when I’d shot my father and freed all his slaves? I’d done my best to give each woman a substantial fortune to live off after a lifetime of horror. And for those women with rape-begotten children, I’d forged any document they asked for, then flew them to whatever country they wanted to build a new life in.
Over the years, I’d kept tabs on them. I’d ensured they’d found some semblance of a happy existence. A few had died. A few lived on. And a few had obviously told their illegitimate offspring about their true origins, even though that’d been my one condition.