Rune
"Oh! Yes! Yes!" She cries, "Right there!"
I want her to scream louder.
My hips rock into her, pounding into her pussy so hard that it's a fucking miracle I don't draw blood.
"Don't stop, baby!" She cries, "You feel so good!"
I wish I could gag her.
Blondie number two sits on the other side of the couch, right next to Blondie number one. She has her legs spread wide, playing with herself as she rolls a nipple between her fingers. All this, on a normal day, would do it for me. The girls, the drugs, the fucking. It's my life—the adrenaline of all this shit. But today isn't one of those days.
Blondie number two is staring into nothing, high off her ass, as her friend screams right next to her. There's something about her cloudy blue eyes that's pissing me the fuck off.
They're blue, alright.
But they're just not the shade. Not bright, not innocent, not hers.
I'm on edge.
My jaw is locked tight; there's tension wound into my entire body. I thought this would be good enough of a release; unfortunately, it's doing nothing but aggravating me even more.
Blondie number one's eyes roll into the back of her head. At least one of us is having the time of our lives.
My hand wraps around her throat; she startles, her cries turning more crazed; she's practically shrieking as the orgasm rocks through her little frame, her fake tits bouncing as her body trembles.
Her cries echo through the large office; she's so lost in the drug-enhanced pleasure, screaming her ass off as her pussy pulses around me, that I don't even hear the footsteps making a beeline for our location.
Kane walks through the hallway and directly into my line of sight the second I pull my dickens out of her. He's got an entourage with him, with at least four to five men pausing right behind him.
I honestly can't help the laugh that tumbles out of me.
Kane's expression hardens, his eyes narrowing as he stares down at the scene before him.
Ah, there's the kind of emotion I've been scouting for. The years away turned my brother into nothing short of a robot. It's a bore. I'm itching to unleash the part of him I know he's hiding underneath those fitted layers. I want to make his darkness sing.
"If you'll give us a moment," He says that the men I gather must be his business partners. It's not a hard guess; they're all dressed in the same boring suits, with equal bored, detached looks on each of their droll faces. It's the same sh*t I've gotten used to seeing on my brother.
The same shit I'm really starting to fucking hate.
The men exit the study, leaving the both of us alone with Blondie one and two. I make a mental note to ask for their names again.
"What do you think you're doing?" Kane asks.
"What does it look like?" I say, "I'm getting my dick wet, brother."
Kane smiles; it's a dark sort of amusement. It has me waiting on the edge of my seat for what the fucker has to say next.
Loose it, I chant in my head, fucking loose it.
But no, the bastard remains calm. He walks further into the room, completely unfazed by the naked girls sprawled out on the boardroom couch.
He slips the button out of the front of his suit coat, giving him enough time to slide his hands into the pockets of his slacks.
"I want to know how you do it."
My smile widens. "How do I fuck?"
He smirks, but there's no humor in it. "How do you get off on being a damn fool all the time?"
The grin slips off my face.
His eyebrows raise. "You don't have an answer? Because, truly, I'd love to know. What does it do for you? Make a fool of yourself with your junkie whores. Or are you still twelve? Hiding under your bed, afraid of the dark, begging for Daddy's attention. Tell me, brother, what is it that keeps you going?"
I wish he was standing within an inch of me.
I'd knock his teeth out.
"I'll do you one better," I say. "How about tit for tat? Quid pro quo. I'll let you know what keeps me fucking women in your meeting rooms when you tell me when Dad became your fucking role model. With the way things are going, you just might be the next Patrick Summers.
That gets a rise out of him. So much so that he doesn't even try to hide his anger. "Like hell, I'm anything like him."
"Yeah?" I mock, "You think? Because right now, I can't tell the difference between who's standing in front of me and Aurelia's old man."
His jaw tightens.
"You're following in his footsteps. He's priming you to take over his company, letting you cook on a pan like some three-course meal. You think you're becoming a man, that you're becoming something big, but you know what I see when I look at you? Nothing but his little bitch."
He tosses his head back, barking out a harsh laugh.
"You've changed." I tell him.
"Wish I could say the same about you."
I lift my hands, faking a shiver, and say, "Scary."
His lip curls. "You need to take this sh*t show somewhere else. I have a meeting; there's a dozen other rooms in this house for you to drown yourself in your STD's."
"Don't insult me," I say. "I always use rubber."
He doesn't even crack a smile. He makes a move to leave the room, but I'm not quite ready for this conversation to be over.
I tuck myself back into my jeans, buttoning them as I cross the room over to him before he can make it out.
He rips his arm away from my grasp the second I touch him.
"What?" I joke, "Think I'll stain your Valentino?"
"More like infect it."
I roll my eyes. "Listen, you're way too fucking serious these days. Do you even eat breakfast?"
He starts walking away again.
"Hey-" I reached out.
"Don't touch me."
Again, I lift my arms up, showing the damn beast, "Let's hang out."
He looks at me like I just threatened to kill him with a water gun.
"What?" I ask, "It'll be like the good old days. We used to hang out all the time; what's changed?"
"Not you."
"Yeah," I agree, getting in his face, "I'm still sane enough to have a sense of humor and at least one fucking fun bone in my body. You don't get tired of your goddamn attitude? You gotta loosen up, man. Listen, I have just the thing."
He's standing there, waiting, but part of me feels like he's not listening to a word I've said. Sighing, I reach into my pockets, pulling out the golden VIP exclusive card. I hold it out to him.
He doesn't take it.
"Can you please look at it?"
"I'm looking at it."
God, this asshole. He's so fucking infuriating.
"Take it," I say.
"No."
I shove the small card against his chest. He shoves me away from him, way harder than necessary, grasping the golden rectangle before it drops to the floor and giving it a glance.
His eyes are bored. "A club."
"To put it lightly, yes."
He shakes his head, an annoyed breath slipping out of him.
"It's not just some regular schmuck joint. I think we should check it out; it looks promising."
"I'm not going to a club."
"For fucks sake, it's not a-"
"I'm not going anywhere with you." He hands the card back to me.
I take it, "You're so fucking infuriating, you know that? You remind me so much of Da-"
He snatches it back, making me pause on the last word. He glances at the card briefly once again, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "Fine."
"Fine?" I lean into his space and say, "Fine, as in, you're actually willing to let loose and enjoy yourself, fine? Or fine, like-"
"Fine, I'll change my mind if you don't stop talking."
I grin, pressing two fingers to my forehead and flicking them at him in lieu of a salute. "Roger."
"This isn't some bonding activity we're having. The only reason I'm considering this is because I believe it's a promising place to scout for future investors."
I look at him incredulously and ask, "Who the hell goes to a place like this for the sake of work?"
He shoves the card at me. Buttoning up his suit coat before making his exit without saying another word to me.
I let him leave. As far as I'm concerned, a win is a win.
Rune -1, Kane—well, I'm not sure yet.
My fingers tinker with the edge of the metallic card, my attention moving to Blondie one and two making out with each other on the leather sofa.
I hold up the card, my eyes moving over the black letters engraved in bold.
12 STROKES OF MIDNIGHT
It'll be fun.