Chapter 3: Kevin’s step sister and best friend Ashlee
thrusts. The financial graphs on the screen bled into green streaks in her peripheral vision. She focused on the taste of him, the pre-come slicking her tongue, the musk of his skin. This was penance and power, all in one wet, choking motion.
“Good girl,” he grunted, the words vibrating through her skull. His grip tightened. “You learned fast this morning. Now show me you remember the lesson.”
He began to move her, his control absolute. He set a brutal, piston-like rhythm, using her mouth with a detached, focused efficiency. Her eyes watered instantly. Her throat opened and burned, opened and burned, a cycle of protest and submission. Saliva dripped down her chin onto the expensive rug.
“That’s it,” he hissed, watching himself disappear into her. “Take it. You gave away our secret, Ash. Now you fucking earn it back.”
Each thrust punched a wet, guttural sound from her. She gagged, but the pressure of his hand on the back of her head was unyielding. He wasn’t letting her up. This was the requirement. The ownership. She’d handed the blueprint to Hopey, and now he was etching it into her very flesh, proving she was the only real architect.
Her hands scrabbled at his thighs, not to push away, but to hold on. Her nails dug into the hard muscle. The earlier shame melted, incinerated by a shocking, devouring need to please him, to be the best at this, to make him forget he could ever want this from anyone else.
“You think she could do this?” he rasped, his breath coming faster. He fucked her mouth with deep, grinding strokes. “Think your nerdy little friend could swallow this cock like it’s her job? Could she look this pretty with her face covered in spit and her eyes begging?”
He pulled her all the way off, a string of saliva and pre-come connecting her lips to his gleaming tip. She gasped, dragging air into her ravaged throat. Her lips felt swollen, used.
“No,” she croaked, the answer honest and immediate.
“Say it.”
“She couldn’t.” Ashlee looked up at him, her vision blurred. “Only me.”
He pushed her back down. This time, his rhythm lost its clinical precision. It became frantic, hungry. “You’re gonna swallow every drop,” he ordered, his voice thick. “You’re gonna taste what you tried to give away. You understand?”
A frantic, eager nod. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard as he pistoned into the tight ring of her lips. The world narrowed to the slap of his balls against her chin, the guttural curses raining down from above, the coppery hint of blood from a rough stroke against her gum.
His hips stuttered. A harsh, broken sound tore from his chest. “Here it comes. Open up, you greedy bitch. Take your medicine.”
The first violent pulse hit the back of her throat. It was hot and bitter. She swallowed convulsively. The second, thicker load followed, and the third, flooding her mouth. He held her there, buried to the hilt, as his cock twitched and emptied itself down her gullet. She kept swallowing, her throat working, until he was spent.
He finally released her hair. She slumped back onto her heels, breathing through her mouth, the taste of him overwhelming. It was on her chin, in the gap between her teeth. She didn’t wipe it away.
They sat in the silent room, the only sound their ragged breathing. The news ticker scrolled silently: MARKET VOLATILITY… CONSOLIDATING GAINS…
Kevin looked down at her, his expression unreadable. He gently used his thumb to smear the mess at the corner of her mouth. “Saturday,” he said, his voice calm now, almost conversational.
Ashlee flinched.
“You’ll set up the date with Hopey. Just like you promised her.” He tucked himself back into his sweatpants, the motion casual. “You’ll be there. You’ll watch.”
The cold finality of it iced her veins. This was her punishment, exquisitely crafted. She had to serve him to her best friend on a platter, and bear witness. “Why?” The word was a shredded thing.
“Because you need to see what happens when you share what’s mine.” He stood up, looking down at her crumpled form on the floor. “And because I want to see your face when she fails.”
He walked toward his bedroom, leaving her there in the blue glow. “Lock up on your way out, little sis.”
The elevator doors closed behind her, sealing her into a fluorescent tomb. Her body felt used, her throat raw. But a terrifying certainty had calcified inside her. Hopey would smile and flirt and try to use the “data points.” And it would be a pathetic, amateur performance.
Ashlee would watch. And she would know, with every fiber of her being, that she was ruined for anything else. The understanding was not a scream, but a slow, settling cold.
She had built her own cage with the bones of their friendship. And now, she would sit quietly inside it, waiting for Saturday.