Chapter Forty-Four

Havermouth, Present Time

As Rhett’s room reflected his gothic tastes, and Cameron’s his country farm tastes, Heath’s room was entirely him. Sleek, polished surfaces, no clutter, expensive and designer. His bed, like Rhett’s, was a four-poster, but square and spare. He had chosen a four-poster she saw in order to use the poles to mount the restraints. Each pole had several fixtures, from finger-thick metal loops to black rope already tied into place. Next to the bed was a glass-topped table, upon which laid a wide array of sex toys.

Heath’s sexual interests were unapologetically on display.

“I guess you don’t have a house cleaner,” she observed. “Or visitors.”

“No cleaner,” he opened the door into the bathroom. “And no visitors that would be invited into my bedroom.”

The bathroom was tiled in glossy white subway tiles with black grout. The tapware was black, and the porcelain was white. The floor was a patterned black tile, in style with the heritage of the house, taking the starkness of the modernity.

Heath opened the shower door and started the water. “The shower will have to be quick,” he told her. “Rhett does not want the tattoos to get too wet.”

“I guess he’d know how to look after them,” she muttered resentfully. “Do I leave the bandages on or off?”

“Off. We’ll put new ones on afterwards,” he replied, pulling off his top and releasing the button of his jeans as he toed out of his shoes, his muscles shifting beneath his skin in delicious display.

She dropped her eyes from him, not wanting to succumb to her lust, and began to peel back the bandages. She felt the resurgence of anger as the beautiful artwork was revealed.

“Hmm,” his eyes, in contrast to her anger, warmed and his lips curled. He reached out and drifted a fingertip along the edge of the tattoo near his initials. “Some of Rhett’s best work,” he said softly. “Despite the difficult circumstances, he’s putting everything he can into it, to make sure that it’s as beautiful as the canvas.”

She clenched her teeth on the sharp retort that rose to her lips. She had learned her lesson of the morning, however, she told herself. As Heath had told her, good behaviour would get her food and clothing, both of which she desperately needed.

She needed to smarten up, she told herself, and use her gift to aid her escape and to stop them from tattooing her before she was covered head to toe in Rhett’s artwork. She needed to use every tool in her arsenal, she added, as she lifted her head to meet Heath’s eyes.

“You have one too,” she tapped her finger gently on the tattoo of the knotted Celtic cross under her collar bone. “Does Rhett have one there too, as well as on his face?”

“You haven’t seen Rhett undressed?” He was amused and raised his eyebrows as he stepped under the spray.

“Not since I’ve been back,” she stepped in after him. “We’ve only… We fucked in the hallway and he kept his clothes on.”

“Well, that will be interesting,” he replied, pouring shampoo into the palm of his hand and rubbing it through her hair. “I wonder what you will make of him.” She caught a flash of Rhett, naked, his eyes heated with lust, walking towards Heath, his lip curled in vulpine erotic hunger.

“Fuck,” she whispered, the image causing her body to hum with desire. The look in Rhett’s eyes had been so intensely sexual, and she shared Heath’s remembered arousal. “He’s covered himself in tattoos.”

“He’s certainly beginning to lack the skin for more,” Heath replied with amusement, stroking soap over her skin, cupping her breasts and pinching her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s not an aesthetic choice that I would make for myself, but I must admit to being partial to it on him. There’s something very sexy about skin marked in such a way.”

“You wouldn’t make the choice for yourself, but you’d let him do it to me?” She demanded, failing to restrain her tongue, her tone sharp.

“It suits you,” he replied calmly, releasing her breasts. “And I’ve let him tattoo me.” He turned to show his back, and she saw a beautifully detailed, coloured depiction of the river house and three wolves standing before it. “He’s currently trying to persuade Cameron to get the same. Perhaps after Rhett has completed your back, Cameron will give in.”

He turned off the water and reached out for the towels that hung neatly on the rack. He handed one to her. “Pat dry over the tattoos, do not rub.”

She did as he directed, patting the towel over the tattoos on her front, and he stepped up to touch his towel to her back.

“This is looking good,” he commented. “The detail in the feathers, they almost look real.”

She bit her bottom lip and resisted commenting.

“You are angry,” he said quietly, as he rubbed the towel through her hair. “We can smell these things, Aislen.”

“Yes, I am angry,” she agreed. “And hurt and confused. You guys fucked with my head when we were teenagers, I still… I’m still not sure I know what the truth was of some things. You manipulated me into doing things… And straight out lied to get me to do others… You humiliated, used, and abused me. And yet, you’re angry with me.”

“And you were innocent?” He laughed mockingly. “You had us turning and twisting in confusion whenever you’d maliciously reveal that you knew something that you shouldn’t… But you’d never be upfront or explain just how it was that you knew those things. Erebus.” He snorted. “You were a skilled game player… still are.

“Had Cameron wrapped around your fingers this morning, didn’t you? You should have seen the expression on his face, the hope...” His voice broke. “It crushed him when I found you half out the bathroom window. It is fucking cruel, Aislen, the way you play with others’ emotions.”

She turned to snarl at him, and instead threw herself at him, wrapping her legs around his waist as she caught his face between her hands and devoured him, sucking his tongue into her mouth with violence. He caught her easily, absorbing the impact without even swaying on his feet, his hands closing on her arse to hold her in place, his kiss bruising her lips.

He carried her towards the bedroom, his mouth travelling along her jaw and down her throat.

She sobbed out a breath, overwhelmed by passion. As they passed the table he paused and snatched several things from it, tossing them onto the bed in quick succession before sitting on the mattress. With her weight on his knees, his hands were free, and he reached between them, smoothing lube over his cock.

“Fuck, no,” she saw the device as he put it on. “What the fuck, Heath?” It was like an alien cock made of silicone into which his own sizeable cock went. It was brightly coloured, and covered with ridges and bumps…

He smoothed the lube over the device. “Cock sheath,” he told her, although the thoughts were already threading through her mind as her overwhelming desire faltered in the face of the strange, scary, sexy thing that he wore.

She met his eyes. “No way you’re fucking me with that,” she told him. There was something very weirdly sexy about imagining him fucking her with it, she admitted to herself, but she wasn’t going to…

His smile smouldered. He was getting off on her horrified fascination. As always, for him, sex was about the mind-fuckery as much as the physical, it was about domination and ownership. He had always delighted in taking consent away. As Cameron had once said: “No is not a word that we accept around here.” A big part of that was that Heath’s kink required his lovers to submit to what he wanted… and then he made them enjoy it.

She felt a shiver of anticipation pass through her, felt the hair raise on end along her arms, and knew that her nipples had beaded in response to the fierce wave of arousal.

“We can smell things,” he said again. It was also an echo of something that Rhett had said. “Anger, fear, desire… Strong emotions release pheromones.” He leaned forward, inhaling along her neck.

As he did so, he sank his fingers into her cunt. “Humans delight in lying, but scent never lies.”

He gripped her by the hips, holding her to him, the lewd oversized extension on his cock pressing against her intimately as he stood and turned, setting her onto the bed. “On your hands and knees, Aislen,” he told her.

“Fuck,” she turned onto her hands and knees, bracing for the inevitable.

She felt the very different texture of the sheath nudge up against her cunt and moaned in a complex combination of want and dread. He pressed forward, parting her, easing the tip into her and she blew out a breath. None of her lovers were small, but this was impossibly big…

“Oh… God…” She cried out as she came, the girth of the cock pressing against her g-spot uncompromisingly.

“Hmm,” his hum held a chuckle, and he gripped her hips, stroking out and then back into her, gaining depth. The next stroke went deep enough that the ridges and nobs on the surface were put to glorious use, and she realized that she was moaning in rising pitch, breathless gasps of neediness, as she edged into another orgasm.

Her fingers clawed into the bedsheets, and she pressed back into his next stroke, greedily seeking more.

“That’s it,” he grunted. “You were always very good at taking cock, Aislen. You loved having two of us in you at once. Maybe we’ll do that later to remind you of just how much you enjoyed being fucked by us all at once…”

She came, sobbing wetly. “Oh, fuck!”

“Haven’t even had to touch your little clit, have I?” He was getting off on her pleasure. “Coming just from being fucked and it’s still not in you fully.”

“It’s not?” She moaned in disbelief.

“Not even close. I wonder how many times I can make you come before you beg me to stop?” He stroked out and back in, and she grunted as he made her take more. “Bit more and then I’m going to start thrusting and you are going to scream.” He predicted gleefully.

She was almost certain that she was going to pass out from sheer pleasure.

He gripped her hips and drove deep, hitting up against her cervix. “Lovely,” he groaned. “Watching your cunt stretch around this is almost enough to get me off.”

He began to thrust, holding nothing in reserve, dragging the cock sheath out to the tip before thrusting it back in fully, building up speed as he learned the measure, the driving force pushing her breath out in gasped moans and sobs.

He was right - she shrieked her next orgasm, writhing through it, pinned by the accentuated cock within her and his grip on her hips, forcing her to continue to take his thrusts.

Watching the drip of tears splash dark spots onto the bedcover, she realized she was weeping, her body so overwhelmed by pleasure that she had lost control of her emotions in a confused outpouring.

He ground another orgasm out of her before withdrawing entirely, discarding the sheath onto the bed, and rolling a condom on himself before thrusting back in. The change of sensation caused her to moan. “Not as good as bareback,” he told her. “But Rhett’s rules regarding the piercing…”

She dragged in a breath, her arms giving as she came again, and he wrapped himself over her, an arm around her waist holding her tightly to him as he followed with a broken groan. “Fuck,” he sagged onto her, flattening her face down onto the mattress. “Ah, better not. The tattoos...” he corrected and rolled them both, still buried into her, onto their side.

“Fuck,” Cameron said breathlessly from the bedroom door. He had his jeans open and his cock in his hand, the spill of his cum cupped in the other palm. “That was fucking hot. I fucking came from watching.”