Butterfly and Augustine: (Royal Bastards MC, Newark, NJ Chapter, Book 3) by Lucian Bane

Author:Lucian Bane [Bane, Lucian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-09-24T18:30:00+00:00

13

Handy Dandy

Sync had no clue how long he slept before the nymphomaniacs were at it again. And this time, his dick wasn’t the only thing malfunctioning. That fucking hand was awake, helping itself to his cock. He fought to take control of it only to discover he had zero. Panic froze him as he jerked his gaze toward Butterfly, pulling his knees up. Using his other hand he grabbed hold of his left wrist, pulling on it. Like a constrictor knot, it got tighter the more he pulled. Motherfuck!

It started moving along his shaft again like some mindless conveyor belt had flipped on, slowly up, slowly down, slowly up, slowly down. Sync switched to fighting the heat it was building but every mental trick felt like he threw gas at fire.

He stifled the sounds, turning on his side, strained grunts escaping with every other breath.

“Sync? You okay?”

“Yes,” he shot out.

Three seconds later. “You don’t sound fine.”

Her voice sounded higher like she’d sat up. “It’s this stupid…hand,” he grit.

“Hand?”

He let out a seething groan.

“Handy?”

“Stay over there!” he ordered as the hand strangled his cock, building speed. Sync turned on his stomach trying to pin it with his body against the bed.

“Should I try and talk to him?”

He remembered she had some strange command over it. “Yes!”

“Handy, stop!” she ordered firmly. “Right now!”

“Not working,” he strained out.

“If you don’t stop, I’ll…I’ll have to punish you!”

“Oh fuck, not working,” he gasped as her words seemed to only excite it.

“Is he hurting you?” she worried, sounding closer.

The groan he let go sure as fuck sounded like torture even in his ears. He finally realized fighting it was useless. “I’m going to… let it do…” A harsh moan shot out as he fought to hide under the covers.

“Okay. Oh!” she whispered, seeming to just realize what the fuck Handy had a hold of. “I’ll go in the bathroom. You…do what you have to. I’ll take a really loud shower.”

The second the door shut, he flipped over onto his back and brought his knees up.

The hand stopped.

He looked down between his legs, panting at the limp limb now unmoving on the bed.

Sync shot his gaze toward the bathroom, then back between his open legs, his chest heaving. He waited till the heat cooled entirely before daring to move. He flexed his left fingers, his pulse wild with the possibility of a repeat rape. How was it doing that? Was like their body was glitching.

“It’s over,” he called out, his brain going over scenarios of possible malfunctions and solutions. Harlow would know what to do, he remembered. Then he considered his hatred for him. Childish prick wouldn’t bother spitting on him if he were on fire.

The door opened and she made her way back to the bed, climbing in. “Goodnight,” she quipped, her voice muffled, like her back faced him.

“I need to get to Dr. Ubalde,” he said, his muscles refusing to relax.

“You think he can help?”

“I don’t know who else could. Something’s wrong with us.”

He saw her covers moving in the corner of his eye.

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