I’d begun the service uptight but now I was wound tight. Seeking something. Seeking relief.

Daniel pushed his chair back, angling me physically between his spread hips. With a malicious glint in his eyes, he pushed me back with a firm palm between my breasts. “Fuck the stupid rule.”

I gasped as his mouth latched around my clit. The suction of his mouth made my body twist with oversensitivity. He wasn’t playful or respectful like the rest of the men. He knew what he wanted and he took.


The ache wound tighter and tighter, clawing its way toward relief.

I squeezed my eyes. I couldn’t look at the men watching. I couldn’t do anything but breathe and get through it. And I definitely couldn’t look up where a small growl came, masked with silence.

It was nothing more than a growl.

But it resonated in my bones with knowledge.


The few seconds that each man had taken seemed much longer in Daniel’s arms. Suddenly, I cried out, jerking hard.

The tip of his tongue probed my entrance, trying to enter me.

No one had done that. They’d behaved with some unspoken rule to taste but not devour.

Fuck the stupid rule.

Daniel’s voice repeated in my head. Had there been guidelines on how I was to be treated?

Everything we’re doing is following a strict set of rules—laid out in utmost simplicity and must be followed.

I recalled what Mr. Hawk had said.

He had rules meant to ruin me but also…protect me?

Daniel tried again, his fingers biting into me painfully.

Then, I was wrenched away.

Torn free of his grip with a slice of his fingernails and dragged to the end of the table. The empty dessert tray went flying, clanging against the floor.

My legs tripped, sending me colliding with a body I’d been so intimate with only hours before.

The crash of the tray cut through the room like a loud cymbal. But no one said a word.

The moment Jethro dragged me to the head of the table opposite Mr. Hawk, he shoved the largest of all parchments into my hands. His eyes were dark, face tight. “Here, read it.”

Breathing fast, trying hard to forget about the sticky saliva between my legs and the sensation of having his brother’s tongue trying to enter me, I took the tattered age-stained scroll.

Jethro scowled, keeping a small distance between us. His coldness buffeted me, sending ice scattering over my bare arms. He looked pissed off—furious, yet there was something there that made my stomach twist.

Whatever game we’d played, whatever war we’d started back at the stables, wasn’t finished. He knew it. I knew it. And the knowledge sent power thrilling through my veins.

Leaning close, he hissed, “Stop staring at me, Ms. Weaver. I gave you a request.” Tapping the scroll in my palm, he snapped, “Read. It.”

Tearing my eyes from his, I obeyed.

The intricate border caught my attention first. Along with a design of vines and filigree, the words bound, indebted, owned were entwined in red ink.

The calligraphy of ancestors past sentenced me to a life worse than death. My rights had been taken. My life stolen. My body no longer mine.

18th August 1672

Signed and witness by Esq John Law

Matter between Weaver versus Hawk

Known forthwith as the Debt Inheritance

This hereby concludes all debate and conversation and puts forth a binding debt. Council has been provided along with sovereign approval for such an agreement.

As set in this chamber, I have witnessed the signatures of both parties of House Weaver and House Hawk, along with their significant entourage and companions.

The debt states as follows.

Percy Weaver hereby solemnly swears to present his firstborn girl-child, Sonya Weaver, to the firstborn son of Bennett Hawk, known as William Hawk. This will nullify all unrest and unpleasantries until such a time as a new generation comes to pass.

This debt will not only bind the current occupancies of the year of our Lord 1672 but every year thereafter. Every firstborn Weaver girl will be gifted as fair comeuppance to the firstborn Hawk boy to be claimed between the years of one and eight and six and twenty respectively. Both parties will be forever agreed on this day set forth.

The life and all attributes will be determined by the current Hawk, no rules or precedence will be set, and this agreement raises them above the law, operating within the grace of her Majesty the Queen of England.


I KNEW WHEN she’d read it.

I knew when the final sentence sank in.

We had a document signed, sealed, and delivered by the royal magistrate of England giving us carte blanche to do as we liked. There was nothing illegal about my actions. There was nothing anyone could find me guilty of. No judicial system would save her.

It was the ultimate approval.

Not to mention, we had wealth to ensure no one would contest it. There was nothing to fight against. The sooner she accepted that, the easier this would be.

Nila’s eyes bugged wide, looking up from the parchment. Grabbing her shoulders, I backed her against the table. The horror living in her dark brown gaze was enough to drag a tiny bit of humanness from my cold soul.

Watching her being tasted—I wouldn’t deny—it fucked me off. She was my plaything. Mine to torment.

I was pissed at my father for permitting the entire brotherhood to use her. They weren’t deserving of drinking someone’s misery. That right was a Hawk’s and only a fucking Hawk’s. Excluding my younger cock of a brother.

He deserved shit.

Grinding my teeth, I placed my palm against her sternum, pressing her breakable chest. Her heart beat like a war drum beneath my fingers.

Her lips parted, but she didn’t fight as I pushed her backward.

I didn’t say a word—controlling her by sheer anger and will.

Her defined stomach muscles clenched as she fought the pressure, then gave in, sprawling backward onto the table. A small sound of pain came from her lips, catching her weight on her elbows.

She refused to lie down.

She would.

My cock fucking bruised itself, punching my belt time and time again. Only I knew how she tasted when she wanted to be tasted. Only I knew how she sounded when she wanted it so fucking bad. And only I knew how tight she was.

That tightness belonged to me.

I doubted I’d fit. I doubted I’d get half my dick inside her, but until I’d had the pleasure of trying, no one else was permitted near her. I had the scroll giving me power over everyone on that subject—including my father.

I swallowed hard. The anger watching my brother stick his fucking tongue inside her boiled. I teetered on a dangerous edge.

Pull back.

I couldn’t.

I wanted what I wanted, and I’d take what was owed to me.

“You finally understand,” I whispered. My voice was thicker, deeper, overrun with the dark lust that’d been created after her whorish displays this morning. She’d done this to me. It was her curse to fix me.

I couldn’t look at her without feeling her thrust against my finger. I couldn’t see past the challenge. The building strength in her skinny frame. She was learning.

I was learning.

We were learning how to play this game together.

She shivered as I dragged my hand down her front, moving lower and lower. My cock ached for the wet temptation belonging to me. I was responsible for her.

She’d been through a lot. She’d obeyed even though she’d fought. She’d kept it together but now she was precariously close to losing it. I wasn’t so heartless to ignore that craving in her eyes. The borderline insanity of needing a release. Combined with finally seeing proof that we were the good guys? Well, I owed her.

Just a little.

It was my job to take her to the edge, dangle her for a time, but then draw her back into safety. My purpose was to bridle everything she was, so she would do anything I asked.

Glaring into her eyes, I said, “You are mine. I am not your master or owner or boss. I am the man who controls your entire existence until you pay off your family’s debts. You don’t breathe unless I permit it. You don’t move unless I request it. You live a simple life now. One with a single word you need remember…yes.”

My touch skated from her belly to her hips.

She stiffened to a plank. Her gaze left mine, locking on the ornate ceiling.

“Look at me.” My voice turned harsh, barbaric beneath its cultured refinement. “Has it sunk in yet? That I can do anything I want to you?”

She didn’t respond—just like she’d been told not to. Silence. Blissful, blessed silence. She couldn’t admonish or argue. She was pliant. Wondrously pliant.

She deserves a reward.

I tried to hold back.

I didn’t want an audience.

But fuck it.

Shoving her higher on the table, I slapped away her position on her elbows, crashing her spine onto the wood. She cried out, then sucked in a harsh breath.

I grabbed her legs, forcing them wide.

Her pink flesh invited me, glistening, not from other men’s tongues, but arousal. Arousal for me. Arousal that I intended to take advantage of.

Grabbing an untouched glass of water from a Diamond brother, I dumped the liquid all over Nila’s pussy.

She cried out; legs trying to scissor. But I didn’t let her move.

The water trickled through her dark hair, pooling beneath her. It wasn’t enough, but it washed at least some of the men’s spit away.

I only wanted to taste her.

Hooking my hands beneath her hips, I held her tight.

“No. Don’t—”

Too fucking late.

With a fleeting smile, I captured her swollen cunt in my mouth.

The moment my tongue shot out, pressing firm and hard, she arched off the table.

“Ah!” Her mouth hung wide, her neck straining as every muscle shot into stark relief. Her black hair fanned out on the table, sliding against her shoulders as she writhed on the wood.

Snapping my fingers, I glared at two Diamond brothers. They leapt to attention, grabbing her wrists and holding her down.

She squirmed. She fought. But my fingers only bit harder into her arse, keeping her pinned wide and open.

My fucking brother didn’t have the right to tongue-fuck her.

But I did.

I hadn’t planned on giving her such a reward, but…it wasn’t just her getting off on this.

The power. The submission. Her taste. Her damn fucking taste.

I showed too much. I let go of my tight restraint and drank.

She groaned as I shifted a hand, holding her hipbone hard on the table. Then she whimpered. My tongue became my weapon of choice as I licked downward. No hesitation. No teasing.

I was there for one goal.

Her goal.

My eyes rolled back as I plunged my tongue inside her tight hot warmth.

Fuck me.

“God!” Her hips tried to run from my invasion. Her mouth opened wide; her ribcage visible as her lungs strained to breathe.

I set a pace no one would be able to ignore.

I fucked her. There was no other word for how I drove my tongue in and out, fast and possessive. The muscles in her belly clenched. She panted, she moaned, then she screamed.

She gave up the fight, giving into me.

A spasm of pre-cum dampened my jeans as her hips shot upward, her clit brushing against my nose.

Her body twisted, trying to get her hands free, but the brothers wouldn’t let her go.

She turned wild. Seeking. Demanding. The same sexual creature from the stables.

I couldn’t breathe without dragging her scent into my lungs. I couldn’t swallow without drinking her. And I couldn’t fucking think without wanting to tear off my jeans and plunge deep inside her.

My tongue worked faster, the tips of my teeth gracing her pussy lips as I drove deeper than I’d ever gone before.

I ate her. I fucked her. I owned her.

Her tight pussy squeezed my tongue, begging for more.

I’ll give you more.

I’d given her too much already.


Her legs suddenly latched around my ears, grinding herself onto my face.

She moaned hard; a breathless beg on her lips. I couldn’t stop myself.

My tongue drove harder; my head bobbed faster.

She unravelled.

She combusted.

She screamed as she came on my tongue.


Oh, my God.

It didn’t. It couldn’t. He didn’t. I couldn’t.

What the hell did I just do?

Jethro stood straight, breathing hard. His eyes were tight; his mouth drenched and red.

My cheeks flamed, heart racing like I’d run ten kilometres.

What was that?

What magic did he possess that made me throw away self-consciousness, decorum, and hatred? How could I squirm that way? Sound that way? Come that way?

I came.

He made me come.

My captor shot me free for one blissful second, granting me something no one else had. The sparks and waves and mind-twisting delicious clenching. I wanted more. I wanted it now.

Jethro wiped his mouth, trying unsuccessfully to hide the lust glowing in his eyes. He’d given, not taken. He’d done what he said.

I’ll wipe it all away.

The only thing I could focus on was him. The room of men didn’t matter. Their tongues and touches and pleasantly whispered thank yous were gone. Burned to a crisp thanks to the nuclear explosion he’d set off. I was no longer at the mercy of the room. I owned the room.

Then everything came crashing back.

My first orgasm was given by a man whose father killed my mother.

My privacy had been completely stripped by the man who’d stolen me from my family.

He’d made me sleep with dogs.

He played with my head.

He didn’t give a damn about me.

Why was he so clever? So perfectly designed for this game?

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