4. Pink Rose

The heavy oak door of the Caldwell mansion closed behind our family with a soft click. I had fought this dinner with every ounce of stubbornness I possessed, yet here I was dragged from the safety of my bedroom.

Sophia Caldwell greeted us warmly, her elegant emerald gown rustling as she drew me into an embrace . “Ava, my dear, how lovely you look in that pink. Thank you for coming. It truly means a great deal, especially now that my Boys are home at last .”

I forced a polite smile, murmuring thanks even as heat rose faintly in my cheeks. Father and Mother exchanged pleasantries with Mr. Caldwell.

The dining room glowed beneath the crystal chandelier, the long mahogany table set with exquisite precision, fine china, heavy silver, and glasses that sparkled like captured starlight. The air was rich with the aromas of herb crusted lamb, roasted vegetables, and the deep notes of aged Bordeaux. I took the seat between the twins, the sequins of my dress whispering against the velvet chair. Ethan sat to my left, Edgar to my right. They rose briefly as I approached, tall and broad shouldered in their black shirts and trousers.

Both eyes turned toward me with nothing but a blank stare. Ethan’s gaze swept over the short hem of my pink dress and the delicate neckline, lingering with a smirk.

Conversation flowed politely around the table. Mother and Sophia chatted cheerfully about upcoming charity events, while Father and Mr. Caldwell discussed business matters in measured tones, the language of men who shaped fortunes. James contributed occasionally, shooting me occasional glances that carried brotherly amusement. I tried to join in, keeping my voice steady. Only If I could.

A hand found my bare thigh first. The palm was warm and heavy with fingers pressing into the soft skin just above my knee with firmness, I stiffened, Heat flooding my cheeks

'Not here. Not with everyone present.'

I shifted slightly, but his grip tightened in silent warning. His expression remained perfectly composed as he spoke to my father about senior year at Greenwich Academy, yet his fingers began to move slow, deliberate strokes tracing higher along my inner thigh.

Edgar soon followed. His touch was bolder, A single finger hooked the fabric aside, tracing my already wet folds and I bit my lip, a wave of arousal hitting me . How dare they touch me like this here, in the midst of our families, treating me as though I were theirs to toy with? my body, traitor that it was, responded with a slickness that made my thighs tremble.

Ethan’s thumb circled the sensitive nub at my center with maddening skill, while Edgar’s finger dipped inside me, pumping slowly, stretching me with careful insistence. a mild, unwelcome thrill mingled with it all, making my breath come shallower.

I kept my posture rigid, forcing smiles when Sophia asked about cheer practice, my voice cheerful on the surface even as embarrassment burned hotter. James glanced my way again, his brow furrowing in mild confusion at my flushed cheeks and the subtle tension in my shoulders. He noticed something was off, but he could never guess the truth: that his little sister sat trapped between the Caldwell twins, her dress discreetly hiked, their fingers exploring her pussy while polite dinner conversation swirled around us.

They brought me closer and closer to the edge, circling, stroking, pressing until the pleasure built into an overwhelming wave. I fought the moans, But the sensations were too much. A soft, involuntary gasp escaped me as climax crashed over me, my inner muscles clenching around Edgar’s finger while Ethan’s thumb continued its relentless rhythm. Pleasure rippled through me in hot, trembling waves, leaving me dizzy and breathless. I prayed no one at the table had noticed the brief falter in my voice or the way my hands fell wanting to push off the hands.

They did not stop immediately. Their touches lingered a moment longer, drawing out the aftershocks, before withdrawing entirely. No words passed between us. I sat there, cheeks blazing, a strange mix of happy relief at the physical release and anger at how easily they had unraveled me. My body felt both satisfied and profoundly violated in its privacy.

The dinner continued in elegant torment. By the time the final course was cleared and the gentlemen mentioned retiring briefly to the study for cigars and port, I felt raw and exposed. The twins rose with graceful precision. Ethan’s voice was low, intended only for me, as his fingers closed around my wrist with firm pressure. “A word in private, Ava. About old times.”

Edgar flanked me on the other side, his presence an unyielding wall. Sophia smiled indulgently, assuming a charming reunion of childhood friends. My parents remained oblivious, exchanging fond glances. James watched our departure with amusement and a hint of suspicion, but he stayed seated. He could not intervene without creating an awkward scene.

They guided me through the corridors to a secluded guest chamber in a quieter wing of the estate. The room was lavish, burgundy velvet drapes, a grand four poster bed with fine linens, the faint scent of sandalwood in the air. The door clicked shut. The lock turned.

Ethan pressed me against the wall with controlled strength, his tall frame caging me in, his hazel eyes burning with hatred. “You dare come here in that little pink dress after last night?” he murmured, voice low and edged with anger. “Flaunting yourself as if we would welcome you back with open arms?”

Edgar stepped closer, his fingers tracing the sequined neckline before tugging the fabric downward just enough to expose the upper curves of my breasts. He pinched one nipple lightly, the sensation sending a sharp mix of pain and unexpected pleasure through me. “Look at you,” he said coldly, astonishment flickering briefly in his own eyes at how responsive I was. “Still so eager, even when we clearly can’t stand the sight of you. Pathetic.”

Nervous tension coiled in my stomach. I was still a virgin, I had kept myself chaste through all the years of boys chasing me at Greenwich Academy, determined not to give that part of myself away lightly. They did not know. I would not let them discover it tonight. I lifted my chin defiantly, my bitchy nature rising to the surface despite the tremble in my voice. “If you hate me so much, then why touch me at all?” I snapped.

Ethan’s mouth brushed mine in a hard, possessive kiss, more claim than affection, while his hand slid back beneath my dress. Edgar’s fingers joined, both of them stroking and circling my still-sensitive flesh. I was astonished at how my body arched toward their touch despite everything.

They brought me to climax again with their skilled fingers, faster this time and harsh, the pleasure sharp and overwhelming. I trembled between them, biting back a soft cry as waves of release washed over me once more.

When they finally stepped back, adjusting their shirts with casual elegance, the hatred in their eyes remained. I smoothed my pink sequined dress with shaky hands, cheeks flushed, body still humming with aftershocks. A complex tangle of emotions filled me, about what this all meant, happy in the physical satisfaction I refused to admit, sad at the distance between us, angry at their disdain.

"Next time I'm going to fuck you" Ethan said adjusting his million dollar watch.

"You're going to beg for mercy" Edgar growled

Um should I be scared guys?

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