* * *
Twenty minutes later, I felt marginally better—physically. Mentally, I was in heaven. River had poured me a big glass of ice-cold Coke, another glass of ice-cold water, and he’d brought a bag of chips to the couch. No weird flavor of chips, just plain salt, which happened to be my favorite.
Their couch looked like it had been found next to a dumpster, but it was huge and comfortable and currently my new home.
“This was everything I needed right now.” I threw another handful of chips into my mouth and reached for my Coke.
River chuckled quietly and put his feet up on the coffee table, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Just don’t tell Daddy when he gets home. He doesn’t approve of chips before breakfast.”
I smiled quickly and took a gulp of the soda. Fuuuck, the cold felt good. I didn’t believe I’d shaken all of the fever yet, though. I still got chills every now and then, and I’d jumped at the opportunity when River had offered to grab the covers from what he called the “subbie bed.”
Said covers were draped around me, making me feel like I was seven again.
The awkwardness had faded. The silence between us now was comfortable. We didn’t act like strangers, even though I sensed there were things left unsaid. It was as if we existed in a space where we just waited for Reese to take charge.
I guess it wasn’t so bad being out here.
I’d sent Weasel a text, letting him know I couldn’t fight tonight. Right now, I was only a little annoyed by that.
“Are you a Daddy Dom like Reese too?” I asked.
River shook his head. “Just a sadistic bastard.” He linked his fingers across his stomach. “When I was younger, I wanted to push every limit there was, especially with physical sadism. These days, my passion is in the mental arena.”
Mindfucks. Great. I’d read tons about it, and I was admittedly intrigued by it, but there was no way I’d allow someone to go that deep. Giving up my mind to be toyed with…? Nuh-uh.
However, it wouldn’t hurt me to admit some fantasies. “I have so many fantasies about interrogation play and psychological torture.”
“Yeah?” River lolled his head along the backrest and smirked lazily. “Happens to be two of my specialties.”
In an attempt to keep things light, I patted his leg. “You keep those specialties of yours far away from me.”
He chuckled.
“What’re some of Reese’s specialties?” I wondered.
He hummed, thinking about it. “He’s on a broader spectrum. Natural caregiver, impulsive predator, very creative… There hasn’t been a masochist in the past ten years he hasn’t been able to push into subspace. You’ll probably love his pain sessions.”
No, I wouldn’t, because I wouldn’t request the pain I was addicted to. I’d ask for the kind I deserved.
I could barely remember a time when I’d received the kind of pain that just drove me wild with lust. It didn’t exist in my life anymore.
A pang of guilt hit me squarely in the chest. Being here with River and Reese, having them take care of me, wasn’t right. It felt too good. On the other hand, I was sick.
I promised myself to reinforce the distance and do what I was supposed to do as soon as I recovered. At this rate, it would be tomorrow. Until then…
I wanted to indulge. I wanted to pretend I was someone else.
After setting the bag of chips on the table, I unceremoniously lifted River’s arm and leaned back against his chest. It was a great pillow.
In response, he carefully rested his arm over my front.
With my eyes glued to the action movie I had zero interest in, I said, “I want to point out that Reese has kissed me. You haven’t. Is that part of your dynamic? I don’t know your boundaries.”
There was a beat of silence before he replied. “My brother dives in and drags out whatever he wants. I prefer to chill outside and wait for the prey to come to me.”
That about summed up what I’d learned about the twins so far.
I tilted up my face to look him in the eye. “Am I the prey?”
He hiked his brow a fraction, a pinch of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Do you wanna be the prey?”
Dammit. Definitely a Sadist. And he wasn’t a Predator if he didn’t chase! Was he? Technically, the prey was hunted down. Not forced to admit his desire to be eaten.
“Maybe.” I narrowed my eyes at him.
He narrowed his own in return, mocking me.
“Don’t be an asshole,” I told him. “I’m sick, remember? Be nice to me.”
“I’m always nice.” He said it with a smile on his face, and it was such bullshit.
I huffed. “Do you want me to want to be the prey?”
He chuckled quietly and raked his teeth across his lip. “Let me make one thing clear, pup. I won’t give you an inch until you latch on to me, at which point I might decide to give you eight.”
His words spread some weird liquid heat through me, and I dropped my gaze to his mouth.
“Masochists tend to interpret warnings as invitations,” I noted with a dose of forced confidence. I was in the deep end of the pool already, it felt like.
“Brats too,” he murmured.
“I’m not a brat.” I smiled as a rush of nerves tightened my stomach. The good kind. The kind that made life exciting. And I sort of squirmed in his arms, discreetly trying to press myself closer to him, as if he wouldn’t notice.
He definitely noticed, but he made no mention of it.
“How long have you been involved in kink?” he asked.
I hummed and planted my head on his shoulder instead. Just a few more inches… “A few years? Maybe four. I had a boyfriend who introduced me to rough sex.” Unfortunately, that guy had limits that prevented him from going further than spanking, light choke holds, and using his belt.
