The Unfinished Business

Chapter 2

Marcus and Jax were on me.

Their hands were like iron clamps on my biceps and shoulders, shoving me back flat onto the thin mattress. I fought, bucking, but it was useless.

Lukas’s other hand went to the button of my jeans and yanked them down, the denim scraped my thighs, followed by my boxers. The cold air of the room kissed my exposed skin, and my c**k which was confused gave a feeble twitch against my belly.

‘No,’ I thought. Panic rose swiftly in my chest. ‘This was too much. This was wrong.’

But a dangerous heat was already building in my stomach. And Lukas? He was dead serious.

“See?” Lukas whispered, his gaze dropped. His hand wrapped around my flesh. His grip was firm and sure, his palm rough with calluses. “Your body knows who’s in charge.”

He began to stroke, slow and deliberate at first. Just a dry, rough glide that made me flinch. Then his spit hit my c**k, and his hand began moving faster, twisting on the upstroke, his thumb swiping over the tip with a precision that made my spine curve off the bed.

“Ngh—!” A choked, mangled sound escaped my lips. It was just a handjob, a basic f*****g handjob, but the context, the anger in Lukas’s eyes, the brutal efficiency of his touch, the two other men watching my naked body jerk and writhe, sent shockwaves of shameful pleasure through me. My hips bucked, seeking more of that exquisite, degrading friction.

“Already?” Lukas taunted, his rhythm becoming punishing, and relentless. His eyes were locked on my face, drinking in every flinch, and every helpless moan. “You’re so pathetically easy. Just a rich b***h who gets hard for anyone who treats him like the cheap f!ckhole he is.”

His words landed like a hot slap. They shouldn’t have made my c**k swell in his fist, but they did. It thickened, leaking a string of clear precum that smeared under his thumb. The sensation was too much, and a coil tightened low in my balls.

“f**k… Lukas… Stop.” The warning was soft, almost like a plea.

“Yeah?” he hissed, his hand increasing in pace. “You’re gonna... You’re gonna come from a handjob like a f*****g teenager? Do it then.”

The pressure snapped loose. My body went rigid, and my toes curled into the sheet.

‘Wai— Ahh!’

A broken cry tore from my throat as my c**k jerked in his fist, pulsing, and shooting thick, white ropes that splattered across my stomach and chest. The ordeal was intense, wracking, and draining every bit of resistance from my muscles. I slumped down, out of breath and spent.

Lukas didn’t stop.

His hand kept moving, milking the last drops, then continuing to rub the oversensitive, shrinking flesh.

“Ah! Ah, f!ck, stop!” I jerked, The feeling was a searing electric pain mixed with traces of pleasure. It was agony, it was unbearable. My hips tried to twist away, but Marcus and Jax held me fast.

“He’s cute when he squirms,” Jax commented, his voice casual, like he was discussing the weather.

“He hasn’t even started,” Lukas said, finally releasing my tortured c**k. He wiped his hand on my thigh. “Get him on his knees. Facing the foot of the bed. Arms behind his back.”

I was hauled up, my legs wobbly. They forced me onto my knees at the edge of the old bedframe, my chest pressed into the musty mattress.

Marcus secured my wrists together behind my back with a rough zip-tie, the plastic biting into my skin. I was completely exposed, bent over, with my ass in the air.

The vulnerability was totally suffocating.