Taken: Dark Legacy Duet, Book 1 Page 13

  “I’m going to give you what you want.”

  I glance over at the pool, to where Gregory is leaning back on the lounge chair, smoking his cigarette, blowing a circle of smoke up into the sky.

  I shake my head no.

  He gives me a smile. His isn’t a nice one either. “Are you scared when I call your bluff, Willow Girl?”

  I push my chair back, and the feet screech against the tiles.

  Sebastian holds out his hand. His eyes give nothing away. I reach out to place my hand in his, and he walks me to the pool. I’m barefoot because I’d slipped my sandals off under the table. The grass between the tiled areas feels cool and soft beneath my feet.

  Gregory turns to watch us, still smoking, casual, but something else too. Something darker that I hadn’t noticed before.

  I pull back, but Sebastian tugs me into his chest.

  “Don’t chicken out now, Willow Girl,” he says, kissing my mouth.

  I put my hands flat on his chest to push him off, but he cups the back of my head with one hand and won’t release me from his kiss, although he doesn’t slip his tongue into mine, not now.

  But then I feel his other hand at my back, feel him unzipping my dress. He’s still kissing me when he pushes the straps off my shoulders and down my arms so that I’m naked from the waist up.

  I pull back, look over at Gregory, whose eyes are locked on me.

  “What are you doing?” I ask Sebastian, my voice quieter, my throat suddenly dry.

  In answer, he kisses me again, kisses my cheek, then my mouth and pushes the dress off so I’m just in my underwear.

  “Sebastian.” I shove against him, but to no avail.

  “You want my brother?”

  I shake my head and glance back, but Gregory hasn’t moved, and his dark eyes are locked on me. On us.

  Is he going to share me?

  Is he going to give me to his brother?

  Sebastian’s eyes narrow, and this notch is his. He knows it as well as I.

  “You’ve made your point. Stop,” I say.

  But he doesn’t.

  Instead, he turns me so that my back is to him and I’m facing Gregory. He slides his big hand into the front of my panties and cups my pussy while the fingers of his other hand find my nipple and knead.

  Gregory’s eyes lock on mine, and I can’t look away. Can’t look away as he watches me in this most vulnerable position.

  “You’re wet, Helena,” Sebastian whispers at my ear.

  I feel his hardness behind me and from here, I can see that Gregory is aroused too. There’s a moment when I wonder if they’ll both have me at once. It excites me as much as it terrifies me. And this, Sebastian letting his brother watch me, I know it’s a trap but also my punishment.

  All the while, Sebastian’s working me slow. He must feel me when I’m close, and he backs off again and again. His mouth is on my neck, kissing me, and like a child who closes her eyes when she wants to hide, I shift my face from Gregory’s, unable to look at him.

  But then he moves, and I turn to see him straddling the chair, legs wide, thighs powerful, and he’s stubbing out his cigarette.

  He gets up and comes over and stands inches from me. His cock is hard, like a rod straining against his jeans. I swallow when Sebastian pulls his hand for my panties, leaving me unsatisfied, leaving a wet trail across my belly.

  Gregory’s gaze slides down over my belly, and I press back against Sebastian. Sebastian takes my wrists and holds them at my sides when Gregory reaches out and touches me, runs the fingernails of one hand over my breast, his gaze never leaving mine as he slides his hand inside my panties where Sebastian’s just was.

  “Stop,” I try.

  His fingers feel foreign. Rough.

  I twist this way and that, but Sebastian’s got me tight. Gregory’s rubbing my pussy, working my clit, and I don’t want this. I don’t.

  God, I don’t.

  And even as I deny it, I feel the tension building, feel my body preparing. I’m going to come. One more second, and I’m going to come. That sound, it’s me, it’s my breath hitching too loud in this quiet night.

  “Enough,” Sebastian commands from behind me.

  I meet Gregory’s eyes again when he stops, drags his hand from inside my panties, and smears my own juices across my belly, just like his brother did.

  He then turns and walks away, walks back to the patio, pours himself a whiskey, and sits down.

  He watches us as Sebastian pushes me down on my knees and kneels behind me. He switches his grip, dragging my arms in front of me, taking both wrists into one of his hands and with the other, turning my face so I can see him from the corner of my eye.

  “Not what you wanted?”

  I jerk my face away. He pushes my panties down, and I hear him unzip his jeans. A moment later, he’s inside me, thrusting once, twice, before he pulls out.

  “You’re dripping,” he whispers at my ear, and I feel him grip my ass, slip his fingers between my cheeks, and finger my pussy. He then slides his fingers into my asshole and rubs.

  “Sebastian,” I say, understanding his intention. Unable to drag my eyes from the outline of where Gregory sits, watching us. “I didn’t mean—”

  He pushes a finger inside my ass, and I gasp. He keeps it there and tugs me closer, so my back is flat to his chest.

  “You’re mine, Helena. Mine.”

  He pulls his finger out and pushes me forward, releasing my wrists so I’m on hands and knees. He pushes his cock into my pussy again, once, twice, then pulls out. I feel him at my back hole.

  He grips my hip with one hand while sliding the other to my clit. I cry out when he pushes against me, against my ass with his too thick, too big cock.

  “I can’t. You can’t—” I try to crawl away, but his fingers dig into my hip.

  “I am. If you relax, it’ll go easier.”

  “Please don’t.”

  He pulls back, rubs my clit, and I don’t know if I hate myself or him more because I’m going to come. After this humiliation, I’m going to fucking come. He knows it and I know it, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it and Gregory is still sitting there watching us, sipping his drink and just watching us.

  When it happens, when I come, he pushes into my ass. It hurts, and I’m coming all at once.

  It’s like tumbling from one orgasm to the next, and the sensations overlap, pain and ecstasy and pain, repeating, repeating like the pattern of the strangling, choking roses on my walls, as he penetrates deeper, taking more of me, claiming more of me as orgasm rocks my body.

  He hauls me upright, my back to his front, and he’s all the way inside me. I can feel every inch of him. He wraps one hand around my throat, and the other is cupping my pussy.

  “Mine, Helena. Every part of you is mine,” he says, fucking my ass in quick, deep, punishing thrusts, rubbing me again until I’m coming again and he’s coming too, and his brother is still watching and Sebastian is filling me up and holding me tight and repeating that one word over and over and over again until I know that I am his.

  Only his.

  13

  Helena

  He doesn’t carry me to his bed that night. Instead, he brings me to my own room and sets me on the bed on my belly. He goes into the bathroom and returns a moment later with a washcloth. When I realize what he means to do, I capture his wrist, try to get up.

  “I can do it.”

  “Lay back down.”

  “Please.”

  He raises an eyebrow. I lay down again and turn my face away, bury it in the sheets when he pulls me apart to clean me, clean his cum coming out of me.

  He’s so gentle, and it’s so humiliating. More so than the act itself. More than his brother watching. He doesn’t speak a word when he does it. When he’s finished, he disappears into the bathroom. The water goes on. He’s back a few minutes later.

  I sit up on the bed, pull my knees into me.

  “Why did you do that?” I can’t l
ook at him.

  “Which part? The part where I let my brother touch you? Or the part where I fucked your ass? Or was it that I let him watch?”

  I give a shake of my head and turn my face to the windows because I’m going to cry again, and I can’t anymore. I can’t let him see me cry again. See how easily he hurts me.

  Hurt me.

  Why does this hurt me? Injure me?

  “Which part, Helena?”

  I let out a breath. “No part.” I turn to look up at him. “I’m tired.”

  “Then I’ll leave you to sleep. You’ll be down to breakfast at nine tomorrow morning, and you’ll have an overnight bag packed to leave directly after.”

  “Overnight?”

  “I have to be in Verona. I’m taking you with me. Good night, Helena.”

  He uses the connecting door between our rooms, which he closes but doesn’t lock.

  I draw the blankets back, not having the energy to get up, put on a nightie, or anything. I slip beneath them and turn my back to the door and watch the night sky through the open windows. I pull the blankets up to my chin and try to think of anything else but what just happened because I can’t think about it right now. I can’t analyze it. I’m too afraid of what I’ll find.

  * * *

  The next morning, I wake to the sound and smell of rain.

  I open my eyes and push the covers back. When I sit up, I remember what we did last night. How he had me. How Gregory touched me. How he watched.

  I’m embarrassed and turned on and, god, I don’t even know. It’s confusing and almost overwhelming, all of this.

  But I can’t let him overwhelm me. I can’t let him because I can’t weaken. Is that what he wants? To weaken me? To break me? He told me as much, right? This is a game to him. And for every game, for there to be a winner, there has to be a loser.

  I have no doubt Sebastian will win this.

  I check the clock someone put in here a few days ago, and it’s half past eight. I get up, walk to the window. The sky is dark with clouds as far as I can see. I hate rain. I hate the darkness that comes with it. I always have. But today, it fits my mood. Fits this place.

  I go into the bathroom to have a shower and choose yet another dress, this one a light-pink cotton almost knee-length dress with short sleeves, buttons all the way down the front and cinched at the waist. I grab a sweater to go with it and choose a pair of white, flat sandals. The color is pretty with my hair, which I gather into a messy bun at the top of my head so it doesn’t soak the back of the dress while it dries.

  I set some things on the bed to take with me, but I don’t have a bag to pack, so I just leave it and head down to breakfast at a few minutes before nine.

  Sebastian makes a point of checking his watch when I arrive. The family is already gathered, everyone but Ethan, eating their breakfast.

  “Good morning,” Sebastian says.

  I clear my throat and am relieved when my voice doesn’t break when I reply. “Morning.” It’s not necessarily a good one.

  “Sleep well?” he continues. I can feel everyone’s focus on me, and I want to make a point of looking at each of them, of showing them I’m not a coward, but I can’t.

  “Fine,” I say tightly.

  His eyes are studying me. He’s keeping me rooted to the spot, not dismissing me to get my breakfast, because he can. Because he wants me to know he can.

  I already know this, though.

  I know he holds power over every aspect of my life, and I feel a wave of sadness at the thought.

  What did I think? That it would be different? How many days have I been here? Already, look at me.

  What a fool I am to think I could beat him. Beat them.

  “Get your breakfast,” he says, finally dismissing me.

  It’s just in time, because when I turn away, I can pretend I’m scratching my cheek and wipe away a misguided tear.

  I’m not hungry. I don’t think I could get anything past the lump in my throat if I tried, but I fill a plate and pour myself a cup of coffee. I even forego the cream because I just can’t think this morning.

  Their eyes are on me, and I wonder if they talk when I’m not there or if they truly do hate each other.

  I take my seat, the same one as last night. My shoes are still there. And I don’t need to glance at the pool to know that the soaked pile of a dress and panties are mine.

  Did he do that on purpose? More humiliation? Last night wasn’t enough?

  I pretend to busy myself with breakfast and manage a forkful of scrambled eggs, but it’s like I’m swallowing rocks.

  “I came downstairs for my morning swim before this wretched rain. I didn’t appreciate seeing your dirty underwear by the pool, Willow Girl,” Lucinda taunts, biting loudly into a piece of overtoasted toast.

  I fist my fork, wondering if I’d make it to stab her in the eye before anyone stops me. It’d be worth a round at the whipping post.

  I eat another bite.

  “I hope you weren’t swimming naked. That’s disgusting.”

  I suck a slow breath in and swivel my head in her direction. “Actually, I wasn’t swimming at all. I was getting fucked. Something you might consider doing. If you can find someone willing to touch you, of course. It might make you less of a bitch.”

  Her face goes red, and a genuine smile stretches my lips. I turn back to my plate and cut into the stack of two pancakes. I see Sebastian straighten and cover his mouth with a napkin and hear his chuckle.

  Lucinda slams her fist on the table. “Are you going to allow this?”

  I look up at the wrong moment because Gregory’s eyes are the ones I meet, and I feel my face heat up, going red.

  “You asked, Lucinda. She was just clarifying. And in Helena’s defense, it’s my fault the clothes are still there. She couldn’t walk after the fucking, could you?” He touches my hand with the tips of two fingers.

  I look at his fingers on me, drag my gaze to his face to take in the satisfied grin.

  “No. You’re that good,” I say.

  It’s Gregory who snorts a short laugh this time.

  Lucinda shoves her chair back and comes toward me. For a moment, I wonder if she’s going to slap me.

  “Lucinda,” Sebastian’s voice is a quick command, and she, remarkably, obeys, stopping just a few steps from me.

  I meet her gaze, unable to help the small gleam of victory I feel.

  “You’ll pay for that, Willow Girl. I’m patient, but I will have my turn.”

  It takes all I have to keep my expression neutral because I do believe she means it. She will have her turn at me.

  She walks away a moment later. Sebastian leans back in his chair, his eyes burning a hole through me.

  “You’re owed a notch,” he says, finishing the last of his coffee. “Are you packed?”

  “I didn’t have a bag, so I put the things I want to take on my bed.”

  He nods and calls a girl over, tells her to pack my things into his bag. It’s quiet while I force the rest of my breakfast down.

  “A word of advice,” says Gregory, and I am forced to look up at him. All I can think of is how he looked at me last night. How he touched me. How he watched us. Watched me come. “Don’t taunt my mother. She has nothing better to do than hate you.”

  “Am I just expected to sit here and be humiliated? Morning and night?”

  “You are the Willow Girl,” he says.

  “I don’t care what you do to me. What she does to me. I can’t—I won’t—just take it. I’m not that kind of Willow Girl.”

  “You’re all that kind of Willow Girl by the end,” he says.

  I touch the bone ring on my finger and will myself to be strong. To have just a little bit of my Aunt Helena’s strength.

  But they are wearing me down. Slowly and surely, whittling me down to bare bone. I wonder if they’ll make a notch out of me.

  A prize.

  “Finished?” Sebastian asks.

  I guess I’m stari
ng at Gregory, processing his words. Remember Sebastian’s: “Be careful with my brother, Helena. He’s not what you think. In fact, he’s just as wicked as the rest of us.”

  A chill makes me shudder.

  I set my fork and knife at a diagonal across my plate and turn to Sebastian. He’s watching me with his slate eyes, and I swear he knows every thought in my mind. Knows my every weakness.

  “Yes.”

  He rises and pulls my chair out. I’m surprised by the politeness.

  “We’ll leave in fifteen minutes,” he says and disappears into the house.

  I reach under the table to pick up my abandoned sandals from last night and dart to the pool in the rain to scoop up my clothes before heading back into the house, drenched. But before I get past him, Gregory grabs my wrist and stops me. He looks up at me from his seat, lets his gaze run over me before looking me in the eye.

  “I mean it. Be careful with my mother.”

  I swallow. “I’m not scared of her.”

  I try to pull free, but he rises to his feet, keeping me close, bruising my wrist. We’re so close, I have to crane my neck to look up at him.

  “What about me? Are you scared of me?”

  I guess I’m not expecting that, and I guess I’ve given him the reaction he wants. That deer in the headlights look.

  He gives me a grin, then releases me and goes inside. When I’m alone, I sink down into the closest chair because my knees give out.

  Did I think for a second last night that Gregory would come to my rescue? I did. I did for a split second. But I have to remember that no one’s coming to my rescue.

  No one but me.

  14

  Sebastian

  I don’t mind the rain. I like it. It’s a nice change of pace.

  The drive to Verona takes twenty minutes longer than the hour and fifteen minutes it should because idiots don’t know how to drive in rain, but our hotel is dry and our suite has a great view of the city.

  I’m unpacking some things from our overnight case when Helena comes out of the bathroom drying her face. She looks around, and I wonder if she notices the lack of telephones. I made sure they were removed before we got here.