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CHAPTER 020: Another Delilah
Last Updated:
2025-04-08 11:43:08
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Craving The Wrong Brother CHAPTER 021: I Don't Want To Play This Game Anymore
“Another Delilah?” I ask. “You know,” she says, shifting uncomfortably. “The infamous Knox, Finn, and Delilah situation.” “The what now?” I ask, brows lifting. Victoria’s eyes are fixed on me. I watch her also, not wanting to miss any telltale sign on her face. She’s surprised. She tries to hide it, of course, quickly repairing her expression. But I catch it. She expected me to know what she's on about. And now I’m stuck trying to decide if I should let her off the hook or press for the story she clearly doesn’t want to tell. The thing is—I think I already know. Or at least I have a sinking, nauseating feeling clawing at my thoughts. But my mind refuses to wrap itself around what she might actually be implying. Knox. Finn. Delilah. There was a history between them, one messy enough to warrant a personal, cautionary visit from Finn’s mother. I’d like to know what the hell happened. Did Knox date her too? My chest tightens at the idea. I don’t want to believe that. Not just
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I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe. Victoria’s words are still echoing in my ears, heavy and unsettling. ‘You keep Finn for yourself.’ If you’d asked me two weeks ago, hell, even two days ago, if this was what I wanted, I’d jump at the idea. Finn’s own mother is hand-delivering the fantasy I’ve kept buried for years, telling me that Finn feels the same way I feel about him. But I’m not feeling thrilled. Not even close. I’m mad. It’s the kind of anger that burns beneath the skin, smoldering through every layer. I don’t even know why. Maybe because the offer feels transactional. Maybe because I’m tired of being everyone’s tool—Finn’s and now Victoria’s. Victoria is still watching me. Expectant. Calm. "I believe I’ve rendered you speechless," she says. "If this means you’re considering my offer, then by all means, be speechless." "You want me to make sure the wedding happens?" "The wedding’s already happening. I just need you to distract Finn from doing anything stupid." Th
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*** ~~KNOX~~ *** It’s approximately twenty minutes before Hunter and Delilah’s rehearsal dinner. I’m in their hotel suite watching Delilah complain about her outfit to Hunter. “I look like a balloon in this dress,” she says, blinking so many times that you’d think actual tears would be falling by now. “Honey, you look as glamorous as ever. Absolutely breathtaking.” “You’re only saying that to make me happy. You know it’s not the truth.” This is me wondering why I ever agreed to drive them to the venue. Hunter and I had both shipped our cars here from New York last week—air-freighted. But Hunter, in all his matrimonial perfectionism, insists his car has to remain untouched until tomorrow. "Ceremonial reasons," he said. Whatever that means. So I’m the designated chauffeur. Which means I have to sit here, on this goddamn couch, watching Delilah glide out from behind the sliding bedroom door, then listen to her complain about her dress like I wouldn’t rather be driving my skull in
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I don’t smile. I can’t even bring myself to. Nothing would have pleased me more than to have Delilah this cornered. But when I think about the implications of Hunter’s statement, my lunch suddenly doesn’t sit right in my stomach. I never told him. How’s it possible that I never did? I walk across the hotel lobby without a word. Hunter says something behind me, but I keep going. I don’t want to see him or Delilah right now, though I can feel her gaze burning through my shoulder blades. She’s probably wondering when I plan to attack. This is not about you, Delilah. Chill. Once we’re outside, I cross to where my car is parked at the curb, open the driver’s door, slip into the seat, and turn just enough to toss a sharp look over my shoulder. “Let’s go, lovebirds,” I say, voice flat. They shuffle in, the two of them sliding into the backseat. As Hunter fusses with his coat, Delilah’s eyes catch mine in the rearview mirror. There’s a pleading expression there. I look away. Engine
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*** ~~SLOANE~~ *** I’m trying so hard not to steal glances at Knox from across the room. At first, everything was a blur—Myopia doing what she does best. I eventually caved and put my glasses back on. Squinting wasn’t doing me any favors, and I need a clear view of my target. Knox is the only person not dressed like he’s about to attend a Gatsby-themed funeral. No tux. No tie. Just his signature black shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, paired with black pants that somehow make him the sexiest man in the room. He’s lounging in his chair, and his fingers are idly stroking his neatly trimmed beard. The movement makes me remember how the strands felt on a very sensitive place, one that’s currently tingling in anticipation of him turning on the device between my legs. "She doesn’t look happy," Finn says beside me. I blink, forcing my eyes away from Knox. "What?" "Delilah. She doesn’t look happy. Which can only mean she doesn’t want to get married, and
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My mind is numb. Everything around me is still spinning from what just happened. From the kiss. From the nerve. From the audacity. I don’t know how long Finn’s lips stayed on mine, or if they were even moving against mine, but the moment he let go of my coat, I knew it was over. Whatever moment he thought we were having—it had expired. He’s smiling. "You have very soft lips," he says. "What's that flavor? Strawberry?" My heart races with fury. I’m about to rain hellfire on him when someone clears their throat into the mic. The emcee. Standing with a grin that’s far too amused. All eyes are on us. Victoria Hartley, smiling like she’s just seen her fantasy come to life. Knox—expression unreadable. Hunter’s eyes are wide. And Delilah… frowning. “Looks like we’ve got a wedding rehearsal and a love story unfolding at the same time,” the emcee says, beaming. Laughter ripples through the crowd. Finn chuckles too. “I think that’s a sign of great things to come tomorrow,” the e
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I force myself to walk in a straight line. Back tall. Shoulders squared. Like I’m not being held hostage by a vibrator currently pulsing in-between my legs. It's only after reaching the foot of the stairs that I realize how stupid I’m being. There's literally an elevator leading to the top floor. I stare at it for a second, then turn, walk to it, and press the button. The doors slide open, and I can't say how grateful I am that no one’s inside. Once I’m in the elevator, I suck in air through my nose and hold it while the numbers climb. Each ding vibrates against my spine. I adjust the collar of my coat and try not to squirm, but the heat crawling between my thighs makes that a losing battle. The doors open. I don’t wait—I dart out, make a sharp right, and head toward the rooftop access. I come face-to-face with a bouncer standing by the heavy glass door, arms crossed, face set as stone. Now I feel self-conscious. Could he hear it? He squints at me. “This area is private, ma
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My body obeys before my mind can catch up. I part my lips, tongue darting out to taste the tip of his dick. Salty. Warm. Metallic from the piercing. My fingers curl around his shaft, and when I close my lips around him, his hips jolt forward. "Fuck," he hisses, hand gripping my hair tighter. I take him deeper, inch by inch, until I gag slightly—and he groans again, a low sound that makes my thighs clench. I pull back, saliva trailing down my chin, and do it again. This time slower. My hand works what I can't take, twisting slightly. "Just like that, Kitten. Just like that." He pulses in my mouth, and when I look up at him through my lashes, his eyes have gone dark. His fingers are tangled so deeply in my hair that I can feel the sting on my scalp—and then he starts to move. His hips thrust forward, driving himself deeper. My throat stretches, gags, spasms. “Take it,” he says, the words punched out through clenched teeth. “Take what you came for.” I moan around him, the sound
Last Updated : 2025-04-14
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Knox doesn’t move when we pull into the hospital parking lot.His fingers stay curled tight around the steering wheel, gaze forward. The engine is off, but his body hasn’t caught up. The tension in his arms is visible, humming under his rolled-up sleeves. Even the little lines around his eyes seem sharper.I unbuckle my seatbelt and glance at him. “Aren’t you coming?”He shakes his head once. “No. I’ve got some things to take care of.”“Work stuff?”“Mmhmm.”I don’t press. Instead, I lean toward him, dropping a kiss on his cheek. But the moment I start to pull away, his hand shoots up, tangling into my hair and tugging me back to him.His mouth crashes against mine with zero warning—hot, rough, claiming. His teeth nip my bottom lip, just enough to sting, and his tongue follows to soothe it. I moan, helpless against the sheer heat of it, my fingers bunching in the front of his shirt.When he finally releases me, I’m breathless. Unsteady.He doesn’t say anything at first. Just reaches i
Craving The Wrong Brother CHAPTER 063: I Don't Share
He clears his throat and speaks first. “I am trying to think of a decent reason why you’d want to help Finn,” he says, voice steady. “He broke an arm, not his spine. He has Delilah. If you think he needs help, it can be arranged—without you being there. So what’s the problem? Is there something else I should know about your incessant need to save him?”I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out.Because he’s right.I don’t have to be there.But I need to be. Because despite everything, I still feel guilty for cutting him off. Finn doesn’t keep friends. He has acquaintances, followers, yes—but not real people who show up. Except me. And Delilah.And then… there’s the other reason.“He’s calling everyone in my family,” I say quietly. “And I have to make him stop. The only way I can do that is by handling him carefully.”“How about you just tell him to stop?”“Do you even know your brother? You think he’s going to pause his revenge spree because I said so?”“Revenge spree?” He lifts
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I wake up sore all over, having no single idea how I ended up back in Knox's bedroom.The room is bright as sunlight filters through the tall windows, casting long, pale rectangles on the wood floor. I’m in his bed, tangled in the sheets, my skin sticky with sweat and something else. The air smells like him—like clean soap, expensive cologne, and the raw scent of what we did last night.Except… I don’t remember how it ended.The last thing I recall is him unlocking me from the guillotine in that dark, red-lit room, my legs shaking so violently I couldn’t stand. I think I remember him wrapping a blanket around me. Maybe. After that? Nothing.I push up on my elbows with a wince. Every muscle in my body complains, a deep, pleasant ache settling low in my belly, between my legs, my thighs. Even my jaw hurts a little. Jesus. Did I faint? I must have.Honestly, with the way he wrecked me, passing out is probably the most reasonable response.The bed is cold beside me. Knox isn't here. I rea
Craving The Wrong Brother CHAPTER 061: This Body Is Mine
I hear him backing away from me and climbing back onto the bed, and then I feel him pulling out the humming device from my ass. I moan loudly, bucking my hips as the sensation of it leaving sends waves of pleasure through my body. It definitely feels better leaving than when it went in. He pushes it back into me, and I see stars, my body convulsing with the intensity of the sensation."You're seriously dripping down your leg," he says. "Didn't you just cum twice outside?"He slaps my vulva, and indeed, it makes a wet sound, confirming his words. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and arousal."Now, I have to make sure that no drop goes to waste," he murmurs. Then I feel something wet on my left inner thigh. His tongue laps up whatever is flowing down, and I moan, needing his mouth on the part that aches most, the part with those balls that tingle when they move. The humming device in my ass is only worsening the need.He leaves my left thigh and starts fe
Craving The Wrong Brother CHAPTER 060: Guillotine
I exhale, trying to picture the room in my mind.But spinning has done its work. I have no bearings. I could be facing the wall. The bed. That terrifying X-shaped frame.That’s the point.He didn’t want me to choose. He wanted fate to choose.So I take a step. Then another. I keep walking, arms out, breath shallow. My palms skim the air. Then.Bump.My knees hit something.I reach forward. Cold iron. Then softer—mattress.The bed.“Great choice,” Knox murmurs—right into my ears.I jump. “Jesus, you scared me.”The words barely leave my mouth before he’s pushing me forward, pressing my head down onto the bed. My ass is lifted high into the air, and a sharp swat lands on my ass cheek. I yelp in surprise. Knox's voice is low and commanding behind me."What did I say about talking, Bunny?"I bite my lip, remembering his rule. "No talking, Master."He lifts me even higher, and the next spank lands directly on my vulva, targeted precisely at my clit. The sensation is electrifying, and I moa
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I take a step back on instinct. He keeps walking toward me, a predator who knows the prey won’t run far. My back hits the shelf. The dildo is still in my hand when he stops in front of me and gently pries it from my fingers, placing it back in its spot. He leans in. “Do you know why I brought you here?” His voice is low. I shake my head. “Use your words, Sloane.” “No.” “I like this room,” he murmurs. My throat works. “It’s a very… unusual room.” “Are you scared?” I hesitate. My heart is practically jumping out of my chest. The red light makes everything feel sinister and charged. I don’t know what kind of things he’s done here. I don’t know what he plans to do to me. But I can’t deny the heat rising in my belly. The curiosity tingling along my spine. “Yes,” I whisper. “I’m scared. But I meant it when I said I want to know everything about you—even the scary parts.” He grabs me by the neck and pulls me close until our mouths are a breath apart. “Are you sure about that? So
Craving The Wrong Brother CHAPTER 058: The Playroom
*** ~~SLOANE~~ *** My hands are wrapped around Knox’s neck as he leads me back into the house. I’m clinging to him with trembling legs. My skin is damp from everything he just did to me outside. I don’t know how I’m even conscious right now. My body feels wrung out, like someone twisted every drop of strength out of me and still left me wanting more. He only pauses once, just inside the door. He leans forward, reaches down, and slides off his house slippers with the same precision he used yesterday when we came in through the other door. Neatly. One foot, then the other. Perfectly lined beside the door. And I just… watch. Not because it matters. But because I can’t figure him out. I’ve seen him walk into other places without blinking. His parents’ house. My apartment. A hotel room. He never gave a damn where he tossed his shoes. But here? In his own home, he does this. Why? Not like he'll answer. If I had to put pennies in a jar for everything I couldn’t explain about Knox
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I stare into her eyes. “A taste of what?” “Me.” “What part exactly?” She cocks an eyebrow. “Is there a part you don’t like?” “Not exactly.” She draws again from the cigar, eyes watering as she braves the burn. Then she leans forward, blowing smoke into my face. “Is that a yes or a no?” she says. “Do you want a taste of me or not?” I grab her waist and pull her flush against me. “Shoot me if I ever say no, Bunny.” “I would if I knew where you kept your gun.” “Pardon me. I assumed you saw it in the car when you stole my keys.” She chuckles low. “I don’t believe that’s the only one you have.” “Ha.” She leans sideways and crushes the butt of the cigar on the ashtray, letting it fall. She then takes my hand and presses it between her legs, guiding it beneath the hem of the shirt. Then she lifts her hips slightly and lets me in, pushing three of my fingers inside her. And she moans—soft at first. Her head tilts back, exposing the long line of her neck, glasses sliding further
Craving The Wrong Brother CHAPTER 056: Sociopath
*** ~~KNOX~~ *** I fell right into that trap, let myself be at rest, let myself become too happy. And now the dreams are back. It’s the price of comfort. The consequence of peace. I’d gone over a year without them. Twelve solid months of silence in my sleep, of not waking up drenched in sweat or shivering with the taste of blood in my mouth or phantom screams still ringing in my ears. I thought I’d finally outgrown it. That maybe I’d found the answer. Hate. It had worked. Hatred for Finn. For our father. For the bastards overseas. For the pimps and predators who loitered in my club pretending to be businessmen. Hatred kept the noise quiet. Kept the chaos buried. As long as I kept burning, I didn’t feel the cold. But then came this woman. This girl who wore her damn glasses to bed like a librarian who got lost and wandered into my life, asking to be destroyed. She didn’t even know how enchanting she looked—curled up in my bed, clothed in one of my T-shirts, hair mussed and lips
