Perfection - Kitty Thomas Page 0,52

lied to me. And yet... my body is betraying me.

My body is screaming at my mind, telling it to shut the fuck up and just enjoy this. Because the idea of their hands on me elicits the deepest, most carnal need I've ever felt. I want them to take me together. And I'm so ashamed that I want this.

They're both so beautiful. And masculine. And... frightening. And it isn't Sebastian's scar that makes it so. It's the unapologetic ruthless nature of these two men.

“What else have you done?” I ask Morgan.

“I've kissed you. Some nights I was the one who slid the toy inside your ass.”

I whimper at the memories.

Morgan takes this as encouragement and continues, his voice going low and gravelly. “Sometimes when my brother was fucking your mouth, I was the one stroking your cheek, encouraging you.”

I don't know what to say to this. I don't know what to feel. So I just stare at him.

“You belong to both of us now,” Sebastian says. “Morgan's initials will be added to your collar, and you will call us both Master from now on. You will obey both of us. That’s the price of our silence.”

“How long?” I ask, an echo of that first night. But I know before he says it. Still... some perverse part of me needs to hear their intention spoken aloud.

“Forever,” Sebastian says.

I look to Morgan, whose bright green eyes are so intense I have to look away again. I look back to Sebastian, and then back to Morgan, unsure which man is more dangerous, which is more safe. Who should I appeal to?

“Please...” I don't know why I'm begging. I don't know what I'm begging for, but suddenly I’m one hundred percent sure that it doesn't matter what my body wants right now... I can't do this.

I can't be their slave. They can't take everything from me and expect me to smile pretty and take their cocks like a good girl. I crumple to the ground, my legs no longer willing to support me.

I kneel on the hardwood floor, sobbing. “Please... please please...” I beg. “Please just let me go.” Another part of me is screaming no I want to stay. But what difference do my conflicting desires make if I don't want them to send me to prison?

Someone is sitting on the ground beside me, pulling me into his arms.

“Shhh, little rabbit,” Morgan says. He's petting my hair. “I think we should give her some space to process things. Let her go home... just for a few nights.”

I look up, my vision blurred from my tears, to see Sebastian is considering this. They know I'm not going to report them. They have more power. They have the better card to play. The justice system won't absolve me because of their blackmail. Their crimes aren't as high as premeditated murder, and they have enough money and power to buy their freedom from anything anyway.

“Very well,” Sebastian finally says, his eyes never leaving mine. “I'll take you home. You can have a few more nights in your own bed. Are you going to be able to dance tomorrow or do we need to use the understudy?”

Oh yeah. I'm dancing with him. How can I dance with him? But I nod my head quickly. “Don't call the understudy. Please, I can dance.” I just got this role; I can't lose it now.

“We'll see,” Sebastian says, skeptical.

I pull out of Morgan's arms and crawl the few feet over to Sebastian. “Please, Master, I want to dance.” He absently strokes my hair.

“Get up, I'll take you home.”

I struggle to stand, and Sebastian leads me out of the penthouse, to the service elevator, back to his car. We are silent on the drive. When he pulls up in the circular driveway in front of my house, he finally speaks.

“You belong to us. We won't be moved. Neither of us. So don't think you can play us against one another. Take this time to make peace with your fate.”

I only nod, willing the tears not to start up again. I take my ballet bag and get out of the car without a backward glance.

Once safely locked inside my house, I slide to the floor and sob. By the time I finally drag myself to bed, I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep. I masturbate five times, because it's what I do when I have insomnia.

I try not to think about anything in particular. It's just for comfort. But even I don't believe