Page 26 of Flesh & Divinity

His hands tighten on my waist. “Is that fear?”

I turn my head just enough to find his eyes. “You know it isn't.”

The sound he makes low in his throat is not quite a growl, not quite a groan and it moves through me like a current.

Daddy gets the shirt over my head and tosses it aside. He looks at me, really looks, the way he hasn't allowed himself to since I arrived here, like looking costs him something he has been carefully rationing. What I see in his eyes, in this moment, is not the hatred I have grown used to navigating.

It’s something that looks devastatingly close to its opposite.

And that frightens me far more than the hatred ever did.

“What changed tonight?” I whisper.

He doesn't answer with words.

He answers by stepping forward, closing the small distance between us. His hands are gentle in a way I was not prepared for.

It’s only the four of us and whatever this is becoming, whether any of us are ready for it or not.

Brother shifts his hold and glides the rest of my clothes away with slow deliberation until I am bare on the kitchen table and I feel no shame. I want them to see me. Every inch of exposed skin, every reaction I can’t control. I want them to know that only they have ever done this to me. Only they have ever made me feel simultaneously powerful and completely undone.

I hold Daddy's gaze and slowly lower to my knees.

His breath hitches. The smug curl at the corner of my mouth is involuntary and I don't bother hiding it as I reach up and unfasten his pants with steady hands.

“Shit.” Brother's voice has gone rough. “That is⁠—”

“Don't,” Daddy says quietly, and the single word silences the room.

The moment his cock springs free my restraint evaporates. I grip him and relish the sharp hiss that escapes him when I stroke upward, slow, deliberate, giving him back every ounce of the patience he has used against me since the first night. His eyes hood and darken and I hold them as I dart my tongue out and taste him.

The sound he makes when I wrap my lips around him and take him to the back of my throat is the closest thing to undone I have ever heard from him.

I feel invincible.

Brother moves to stand beside Daddy and I release Daddy long enough to knock his brother's hand away from himself and take over, alternating between them with a focus and a hunger that leaves no room for thought. I am drunk on the sounds they make, the specific quality of each of them losing control in their own way and on the power of being the one responsible for it.

I am theirs.

And right now, kneeling on the kitchen floor of a crumbling cabin with the fire throwing broken light across the stone walls, that feels less like captivity and more like the only thing that makes sense.

Boyfriend's hands find me from behind and I gasp around Brother when I feel something cold and smooth sliding through my folds and I pull back, look down and see⁠—

A fucking carrot.

I stare at it for one full second of complete disbelief.

Before I can form a single coherent thought, daddy fists his hand in my hair and draws my attention back to him. His thrust forward is uncompromising and deep, causing me to gag. I take it and love every second of it.

“Suck it like a good little slut,” he rasps, “and daddy will reward you.”

The words detonate through me. I take him deeper in answer, stroking brother with one hand, trying to hold onto some thread of focus. Then boyfriend tilts me forward slightly and pushes the carrot inside me and every thread snaps simultaneously.

The sound I make around daddy is not dignified.

“There she is,” boyfriend growls against my ear, his pace merciless and precise. “I want to hear you fucking shatter, Cinder Soot.”

Daddy releases me and I turn to brother, then the four of us find a rhythm in the warm flickering dark of the kitchen. The fire is roaring with me at the center of all three of them—finally, completely, without shame or reservation, or the pretense of resistance.