Tarnished Embers: A Dark Stepbrother Fairytale Retelling (Dark Retellings)

I wake up to delicious warmth, the combined scents of rum, leather, and toffee apples mixed with that undeniable musk of man filling my nose and leaving me feeling calm and desperate all at once.

It’s still early, the sky outside just turning lilac with the rising sun, and ignoring my lust, I wiggle from between my sleeping stepbrothers and head to the bathroom to pee.

After washing my hands, I stare at my reflection, at the way my eyes sparkle for the first time in years and the way my cheeks are slightly flushed, trying to recognise myself. This is the girl who had sex in the shower with her new stepbrother, someone she’s only known for a little over a day. One who wants to have sex with the other three too and has every intention of making it happen, fuck the taboo nature of it all. Who feels so comfortable with the new men in her life that she’s not quite sure how she lived without them before.

“You weren’t living, Ember. You were surviving,” I whisper to myself, watching my lips move and knowing that I’m speaking the truth.

Ever since cancer stole my mother five years ago, I’ve been lost, my anchor gone, and my father becoming almost like a stranger as he threw himself into work to escape his grief. Oh, and apparently dating with marriage in mind, that seemed to have been a thing I knew nothing about. My stomach tightens, my eyes misting at the thought that I’m moving on without my mum. I know she would have wanted me to and would be ecstatic that I am, but I can’t help the flash of guilt that she’s not here and I am.

The need to paint suddenly overwhelms me, and I follow the urge, leaving the bathroom and walking over to my nook by the large windows. Taking a fresh sheet of paper, I clip it to my easel and then pick up a pencil, closing my eyes for a moment as I just breathe.

Opening my eyes with renewed purpose, I grab my headphones and then open Spotify, selecting one of my favourite songs. The deep, seductive tones of Bolshiee singing “White Lies” caresses my ears, making my nipples pebble, and my hand flies across the page, the lines taking the shape of three figures, limbs tangled.

Grabbing my watercolours, I mix up copper and green, letting the paint drip down the page. Then I add yellow in the middle, my breaths coming in pants as my fingers practically throw the colours onto the paper, my thighs becoming slick as I lose myself to the fantasy in front of me.

Strong hands grasp my upper arms and I gasp as I’m spun around. Prince’s green eyes are so dark that I fall into them headfirst, losing myself in their depths. My brush darts out, painting a strip of yellow across his chest, claiming him as my own. His lush lips split into a wide, feral grin and his hands travel upwards, the sensual song filling my ears as he grips the neck of the shirt I’m wearing, his shirt, then he yanks.

The fabric rips down the middle as my brush hits the wooden floor with a clatter, the sounds muffled by my headphones. My body jerks with the force, my heart pounding as his emerald eyes devour me. Reaching past me, he takes hold of the brush that’s covered in the exact shade of his eyes and brings it between us.

The first stroke of the bristles has my entire body lighting up, the cold wetness of the paint doing nothing to cool my fevered skin. He trails it down my breast, around my nipple, and then moves to the other side, repeating the movement until my body quivers with every touch of the brush. My fists clench and unclench at my sides, the touch of the brush more sensual than I ever knew it could be. The telltale tingles of an orgasm brushes along my nerves, and my thighs squeeze together as I seek friction to ease the desperate need he’s building.

His eyes snap to mine when a small whine leaves my throat, and I feel it vibrate inside me, my need for his fingers to touch me so strong that I can’t stop from pleading with my eyes.

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Fuck me.

He drops his brush to the hardwood floor, his fingers pushing the rest of the ruined T-shirt off me until I’m just as naked as he is. My gaze darts down to see his tattoos really do cover every inch, leaving just his thick, hard, massive cock untouched. My eyes widen as I wonder how on earth that beast will fit inside me.

The music stops, and I look up to see Prince placing my headphones on the table behind me. My entire body is taut, I’m on the edge, just needing a small nudge to freefall.

“Don’t worry, Sugar. I’ll make it fit.” His voice is all masculine assurance and male pride, and the boy has something to boast about, his dick the biggest I’ve ever seen.

Oh lord. My thighs clench tighter, more wetness sliding between them at his filthy words.

“Please, Prince,” I whisper, my voice shaky as fuck, but the need to have him fill me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. My body is weeping for him. The dark look in his eyes promises me it will hurt so good, and I’m desperate for his brand of pain.

“Such a good girl for me, begging for my dick at just the sight of it,” he purrs, his fingers trailing down my side. God, even that small touch has fire racing through me, and I sway towards him, wanting whatever he will give me. “Up on the table.”

I cast a glance behind me, seeing my table full of art supplies, but he gives me no more time to think, crowding me until my arse touches the edge. Then he bends, grabbing my thighs and lifting me onto the top as if I weigh nothing. My hands cling to his powerful shoulders, feeling the flex of his muscles as he settles me to his liking, my legs open and my pussy pulsing with his nearness.

The wood digs into my soft flesh, but it only adds to the friction that’s building between us, that has been building since he walked into the room and introduced himself two days ago.

He steps back slightly, just enough so that he has a clear view of my body, and when he sucks his lower lip between his teeth, I almost lose it completely, a wanton moan falling from my lips before I can stop it.

“Prince…” His name comes out on a whine, a plea for him to put me out of the misery that he’s created.

“Shhhh, darlin’, I’ve got you,” he tells me softly, spitting into his palm and slicking it over his dick. That shouldn’t be so hot, it’s saliva for fuck’s sake, but I can feel more of my slick wetness coating my folds at the sight as he gives himself a couple of leisurely pumps.

Closing the distance between us, he uses his tip to rub up and down my slit and it almost blows my fucking mind. My back arches, my nails digging into the wood either side of me, and my hips thrust forward, desperate for more.

“More, please, Prince. I need more,” I beg, close to tears at this point. My entire body shakes and trembles, thrumming with need for him.

“Such a needy little sister, aren’t you?” he muses, teasing me again with the glide of his hard tip.

“Please, please, please, Prince.” My words are like a repetitious prayer as my body tightens, an orgasm just out of reach.

“As you beg so prettily, darlin’.”

With no other warning, he snaps his hips forward and thrusts inside me with such power that the table rattles, and the crash of art supplies accompanies my scream. I have no time to worry about the noise, or even be pissed that my precious art supplies are strewn across the floor, because the force of his entry, the buildup he gave me, has me seeing stars as soon as he’s fully seated. His mouth covers mine as my world explodes in vibrant colours, my hands gripping his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as I come around him so hard I’m shaking and my vision blurs.

He allows me a single moment to bask in the glow of one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had, and then his hands grip my thighs and he fucks me so forcefully that I know I’ll be sore after. The bite of pain has me throwing my head back and crying out his name over and over again, my body trembling as orgasm after orgasm hits me until they all meld into one and I can’t fucking breathe with how good it feels.

I open bleary eyes to watch him, his lips pulled in a tight grimace as he watches the place where our bodies connect, then his head snaps up, his jaw tight.

“You’re going to come for me again, Sugar,” he grits out, and I’m shaking my head before I can even formulate the words.

“I–I c–can’t, Prince,” I moan, my voice a cracked whisper.

“You can and you will,” he commands, taking my left arm in his hand and bringing my forearm up to his lips. He doesn’t stop his brutal thrusts, and he watches me as he opens his mouth, right over my scabbed cuts, and then bites down.

My pussy walls clamp down on him, my entire body tensing as the pain heightens the pleasure, and then I’m screaming as I fall into rapturous agony once more. My climax erupts from me, coating Prince, and with his roar of ecstasy, he buries himself so deep that he practically invades my womb as he fills me with his cum.

My chest heaves, my body slick with sweat and paint, tingles racing across my skin as I hold him to me with my free arm and just try to breathe again. My mind is a blur of sensation, reduced to mush by his massive cock and the multiple orgasms that he just gave me. I’m floating, surrounded by a blissful cloud that I know I will crave for the rest of my life. He stays inside me, his own back rising and falling, his face buried against my neck. My left arm hangs limply at my side, his fingers brushing over the skin and sending goosebumps all across my body. When I finally bring it up to inspect it, blood drips from the cuts, the shape of his teeth marks indented into the skin. It throbs, and he lifts his head, looking at me and then my arm.

Leaning over, he presses a light kiss to the wound, and then his lips are on mine, his palms cradling my face as he kisses the shit out of me, the copper taste of my blood coating my tongue. Prince decimates me with his kiss, he owns and possesses me with his lips and tongue, allowing no other option than to bow to him. I open for him, letting him take as I drink him in, my hands tangling in his black hair and pulling him closer.

He pulls away slowly, and I love that his lips look bee-stung, that he looks just as dishevelled as I feel.

“Fuck, that was…” he trails off, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and then he presses his forehead to mine. “You’re incredible, Ember.”

We both groan when I clench around him, the sound of my name on his lips exquisite.

“How can it be like this, Prince? How can it feel like this?” I ask him, my fingers still gripping his hair. My heart feels like it’s too big for my ribs to contain, my muscles twitching as I’m overwhelmed by my need for this man. For them all.

“Because we were always meant for each other. I’m just sorry it took us so long to find you.”

The warmth of tears slides down my cheeks, and he kisses each one as a hot body presses up against my side.

“Don’t cry, Cinders,” Cas soothes, his hands gliding over my body, pulling himself closer to me even as Prince refuses to let go or slide out of me, his cock still semi-hard, as if he doesn’t want to leave the comfort of my body as much as I don’t want him to go. “We’re here now, and you’ll never be alone again.”

A sob rips through my chest at his words. How did these guys see right to the heart of my loneliness when I’ve never admitted to anyone how alone I’ve been?

One hand leaves Prince to grasp Cas around the neck, pulling him in for a kiss which he gladly gives me.

“Thank you,” I whisper against his lips, my limbs feeling shaky and a little sore now that my high is settling into a warm glow.

“Always, baby,” he answers. “Now let’s get you cleaned up and fed.”

I gasp when Prince finally pulls out, his eyes darting down to my bright pink, abused pussy and his cum which trickles out a little.

“You’re going to be so full of our cum, darlin’, that we’ll always be with you wherever you are.”

I shiver, my mouth suddenly dry. How does he have the power to turn me on with just a sentence?

He places one last kiss on my lips before sauntering to the balcony doors, letting in a blast of frigid air when he opens one and slips out, heading towards his room next door.

“Come on, baby,” Cas murmurs, helping me off the table and then supporting me when my legs almost give out. He chuckles. “He does like it rough. I know from experience how much that bastard enjoys using his monster cock as a weapon.” My eyes widen and I lick my lips.

“Do you guys…” I trail off, unsure how to phrase it exactly as Cas’s warm arm wraps around my waist.

“Do we fuck each other, Cinders? Is that your question?” His copper eyes shine in the morning light, and my whole body goes hot at the thought.

“Yes, that’s my question,” I reply in a barely audible whisper.

“We’re family, we take care of each other, remember?” he says, leading me to the bathroom, his arm supporting me on my shaky legs. “And we enjoy pleasure in all its forms, especially when it’s with someone you’re already close to. The twins aren’t with each other in that way, but we all know what the others like in the bedroom. Does that bother you?”

We stop just outside the bathroom door, and he turns to glance at me, his forehead wrinkled, the light of the dawn behind him creating a halo effect.

“N–no. It doesn’t bother me,” I tell him, my heart fluttering inside my chest at the thought of them pleasing each other and of me being in the centre of all that. A small amount of tension leaves his shoulders, like he was a little worried about my answer, even though he’s hinted at this aspect of their relationship before.

“Does it turn you on?” He waits, his copper eyes boring into mine, even though I’m pretty sure he knows my answer already if the smile playing around his lips is any indication.

“Yes, it turns me on.” I don’t hesitate with my answer, my voice clear, and the wide grin he gives me tells me that was the right response.

“I’ll make sure the others know that too. I’m sure they’d be happy to indulge any fantasies you might have. You are family, after all.” He has a wicked gleam in his eyes as he resumes our steps to the bathroom. The idea of them together has me weak at the knees, and not for the first time, I wonder how I got so lucky to have them drop into my life.