Mated to My Step-brother and His Best Friend

SAINT.

"Wait... Please... Stop... I can't..."

That fucking unforgettable voice has been stuck in my head for eight goddamn months, constantly haunting the walls of my skull.

She was so weak that she could barely keep up with the bargain we made.

Pathetic.

And even after her incompetence, she had the nerve to steal from me.

If I ever find her again in this lifetime, hell, even in the next, I’ll make sure she regrets every single breath she took after stealing from me. She’ll wish she'd never taken what wasn’t hers.

I don’t care if it takes months or years. I’ll make her regret that night until her last breath.

I’ve always hated that miserable excuse of a town. I heard the people there were nothing but bottom-feeders... thieves, addicts, liars, and abusers. And just the first time I and Kyrie set foot in there, we got hit.

While I was robbed of my expensive Rolex watch, which could buy the entire wretched town, Kyrie had his common sense and his heart stolen by the same woman I'd give anything to see kneeling before me and begging for mercy while I decided her fate.

The good thing here is, the girl, who appeared to be around twenty or thereabout, was putting on a mask the night I and Kyrie both stuck our cocks into her.

She thought it made her mysterious. But, no. It didn’t. It only made her predictable. I’ve dealt with her type too many times. The only difference is, she got lucky.

Kyrie had her bent over the hotel mattress, one hand tangled in her hair, while the other gripped her hip like he was trying to brand her with his fingers. He was groaning like she was something special... It was almost like he’d never fucked a girl who trembled and begged before.

I stood beside them, my cock in hand, watching the way her body shook under him. Her moans were strangled by exhaustion. Her thighs kept trying to close.

She was already trembling and falling apart when I hadn’t even touched her yet.

Barley half way into the fun we had planned for the night, her mask slipped off just for a second. And in that one second, I’d memorized every fucking detail of her face – high cheekbones, parted plump lips, with deep, blue eyes full of something close to regret. That look people get when they realize they went too far and can’t crawl back.

She quickly yanked the mask back on.

She'd hoped I hadn't seen anything, and I also gave her the impression that she was right.

I met her eyes when she looked at me with panic. I closed mine, let out a breathy moan, and pretended I didn’t notice a thing.

If only she knew.

Now, I remember her face like it was burned into me and this places me at an advantage over Kyrie, because, the moment I set my eyes on her, I'd kill her without even blinking, and he might even be one of my spectators without realizing I'd just killed his beloved enchantress.

Kyrie hardly ever falls in love. Hell, he had only fallen in love once in his life. When he loves, it’s all-consuming and reckless. The kind of love that could kill him. And he’s already dying inside from the one girl who I'd do anything to kill.

Well, for both our sakes, I hope this was mere infatuation or hunger for her tight little pussy. Perhaps he didn't get enough that night. I hope it wasn't actual love. Because this could be the only thing that would rip us apart.