Hard To Hold On To My Sanity

I couldn't sleep. After all that happened today, it was hard to. Today had been the first time in years that I felt exhausted emotionally. Because a lot of things had happened today—some I couldn't even process or understand. Like that Axel guy.

I tried not to think about any of them, but I kept tossing and turning all night. So at midnight, I got up from bed, wrapped a robe around my naked self without bothering with any underwear—yes, I sleep naked, so what?—and left the room barefoot.

The mansion was new, and so it was like a maze, and I had no idea where I was going. I just wandered aimlessly, trying to clear my heavy head.

The mansion was silent—eerily silent—and the only sound that could be heard was my barefoot slapping against the marble floor.

But then another sound joined, a grunt, low and deep. I stood still, listening, and when I heard nothing I was about to keep walking. But the sound came again, a bit louder this time.

Was someone in pain? Were they injured? My legs were already moving, heading towards the sound. I stopped outside a room, and since the door was slightly open, I peeped through.

It was dark inside, the moonlight that was shining through the window the only light, and somehow I still managed to see him clearly.

Axel. Naked, his bare, lean muscled body glistening with sweat, sitting in a chair with his legs spread and his hard cock in his hand, his closed fist moving up and down, hard and fast.

It was dark, it wasn't easy to see but I still managed to see every single detail so clearly as if they were being displayed on a wide screen. The way his body shone with sweat, the way his stomach tensed and flexed, how his bicep bulged as he stroked his cock. And his face… the ecstasy and pleasure that was plain on his face was so… beautiful to watch.

My body grew heated as I watched him satisfy himself—and not the usual heat of rage, but the intoxicating heat of pleasure.

Axel groaned, the sound raw and deep, and I could tell he was close.

“Ah, fuck,” he groaned, his hand moving faster. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Rosette… I’m so close.”

I went tense all over, freezing, my eyes widening.

“Rosette,” he moaned my name again, and if I wanted to deny it that I had heard wrong earlier, there was no denying it now.

I heard perfectly well. He was masturbating to the thought of me. I was supposed to feel disgusted, but instead of that, I only felt intense lust, so sudden it left me breathless.

A wetness formed between my legs, and since I was naked under the robe, it slipped down my robe. I should stop watching, I should walk away and give him privacy, but my legs were rooted to the spot. I wanted to watch him finish.

I couldn't move, my eyes glued on this beautiful, unhinged man. I wanted to touch myself, to relieve that building heat in my core. I just wanted–

“Is watching people masturbate how you spend your night?”

I jumped, startled as I turned to see a man standing behind me. He was so close and my face just hit his chest—his bare chest.

I gasped and walked backward, but then I remembered I could hit the door and alert Axel of my presence, but before I could make that mistake, the stranger grabbed my arm and pulled, turning and pressing me against the opposite wall, just facing Axel’s door where he could see us at any moment.

I was getting really tired of being pinned by men. But unlike Axel, this stranger didn't press himself against me, just held my arms above my head and watched me.

It was dark now. There was no window in the hallway so there was no way for the moon to shine here, so I couldn't see his stranger’s face.

“Can you let go?” I asked in a whisper. This was becoming my most-used word.

“You’re Rosette,” the stranger said, his voice soft yet there was a rasp to it, his breath fanning my cheeks.

“I am, now let go.”

“Did you enjoy watching Axel beat his meat with your name on his lips?”

My face grew hot and I was grateful it was dark so he couldn't see my face.

“Stop talking rubbish and move.”

“Are you wet down there, Rosette?” he asked, his voice a low purr.

This was definitely one of the Varkas brothers. Just how many sons does that man have? I was sick of them all.

“Will you–”

“I could feel how turned on you are,” he groaned, cutting me off, and even though I couldn't see his eyes I could feel it burning into me. “I could smell it.”

“You’re a fucking dog,” I grumbled, trying to pull my hand away from the binding that was his hands. “Like your brother.”

“I'm worse, sweetheart,” he muttered, leaning down and sniffing just like his brother did. And like his brother, he groaned, inhaling deeply. “And I’ll let you off, just this once. I don't like being compared to a dog.”

I stopped struggling, and just stood still. There was no need for struggling. With the little experience I had with Axel earlier, I had learned there was no need to struggle; it would only urge him on.

“Please let me go,” I managed, trying to soften my voice.

“Hmm.” He nuzzled his nose on my neck, and I inhaled sharply. “You smell so good, Rosette. Was this why Father brought you here? The scent of your arousal and your natural scent is doing things to me. Things I thought I could no longer feel.”

What did he mean by that? Why did his father bring me here? Before I could even ask or form another thought, he moved, pressing himself to me slowly, as if giving me time to process or pull away. I couldn't tell which.

But I didn't pull away, because I froze from how hard and hot he was. And I was still processing what was happening. I had been pinned by two men who were supposed to be my step-brothers in barely a day in my supposed new home.

So I was having a really, really hard time processing.

“Rosette,” he purred, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You’re far away. I need your attention to be on me.”

I slowly blinked at him even though I couldn't see him. Where else would my attention be? When he was all up in my personal space, doing… things to me.

“There you go.” His hand binding mine tightened, and he moved, placing one thigh in between my legs—directly under the robe—and moved.