Vic tosses the belt aside as I let out a low, sensual laugh.
“What are you planning on doing now?” I ask, and my husband pauses, tapping his fingers against both of my hip bones.
“That all depends on you, I suppose,” he tells me in that dreadfully calm voice of his, the one that could—no, already does—command literal armies. That other gang … the GMP … they wouldn’t be looking into Havoc if there wasn’t something to Victor’s leadership. “You wanted five men, and you’ve been given them.”
I say nothing, and Vic’s hands tighten on my hips, making me groan.
“Do it,” I whisper, voice breathy and stretched-thin, like I might very well shatter if they leave me here. “Fuck me.”
Victor pauses for a moment, and then I hear the sound of his jeans being unzipped. When he presses the head of his cock against me, my body shudders involuntarily.
I think about Scarlett Force then, that race car driver from a few years back, the one with the three boyfriends. She was caught once, having an orgy in the girls’ locker room with them.
This isn’t the locker room, but …
Victor thrusts fully into me with a single stroke, grabbing onto my hair for leverage. With the other hand, he holds my hip, keeping us pressed together for a moment so I can feel every inch of him like I’m being branded by the shape of his cock.
“Why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?” he grinds out, a bit of that easy control slipping. I seem to have that effect on him. “I give you a simple goddamn order and you try to get yourself killed.”
“Must be in my blood,” I purr, glancing back at him. “Or maybe that’s why I hired you? To save me from myself?”
“Must be,” Vic bites, and then he starts to move, pulling on my hair and causing my back to arch. I put one hand up against the headboard as he rides me, the bed creaking ever so slightly with our movements. He’s brutal about it, too, filling me up completely before drawing back. When he pushes forward, I can feel him hit the end of me, and I bite my lip.
My body is practically liquid now, heated and desperate, wanting.
Vic fucks me as hard and fast as he damn well pleases, knowing that an orgasm is practically inevitable with four more Havoc Boys waiting at the end of the bed. Either that, or he just doesn’t care because he’s mad at me and wants me to suffer.
I notice that he’s careful to keep his hand away from my bandage though, and that he doesn’t put any weight on my body. He’s as aware of that wound in my side as he is of my body wrapped around his.
Fucked by my dark gods, claimed by their inked hands, my soul destroyed.
Even in the throes of ecstasy, I start making up poems in my head. That’s how much a part of me writing is, and I didn’t even know it. I didn’t fucking know it until now. With a groan, I squeeze my hands into fists, pushing my hips back into Victor.
He comes with a few violent thrusts, spilling himself into me and then pulling away abruptly. I’m left panting on my hands and knees as he drapes his body into the stupid pillow mountain, eyes like black coals in the dark. He doesn’t even bother taking off his mask.
“Hael,” Victor says with a snap of his fingers. The look Vic gives me, barely visible in what little light the TV gives off, is still harsh, as if he didn’t just have an orgasm inside of me.
“You really pissed me off, Blackbird,” Hael says, the warmth of his hands making me shiver as he slides them from my hips to the curve of my waist. “Running off into the woods like that.”
“You should apologize to Hael,” Victor agrees, surprising me. But in a good way. Like, it’s nice to know that I haven’t fractured the beautiful brotherhood that makes Havoc so special. Not yet anyway. At least right now, Vic can still be on Hael’s side when he needs to. “You could’ve gotten him killed, too.”
And he’s right. They’re both right.
“I’m sorry, Hael,” I whisper, moaning as Hael’s hands sweep my body with ravenous intent. He rests one palm on the bed, using the other to massage my right breast. When his fingers pinch my nipple, I lift my ass up toward him. Last time, I ran away before the boys’ hungry gazes could sweep over and consume me. Tonight, I’m not going anywhere.
“And then one more, just for me. How about: I’m sorry, sir,” Victor says as Hael presses his hot mouth against the side of my neck. He moves his hand from my breast to his pants, shoving them down so that the tip of his cock brushes against that aching storm between my thighs.
Normally, I wouldn’t even think about saying something so goddamn stupid. But … I did fuck up. Badly. That, and I like how dominant Vic is, even if I don’t always want to be dominated.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I whisper huskily, and then Hael is driving his hips forward, his cock filling me so completely that I can feel the piercing at the tip. He isn’t all that nice about it, using my body for his own pleasure. He really is pissed at me, isn’t he? Or scared, maybe. That could be it, too.
Either way, he fucks my pussy with reckless abandon, taking what he wants while Vic watches, lounging lazily in the pillows and lighting up a joint. The cherry crackles in the dark, smoke wafting lazily through the room and enveloping us all in its strange spell.
“Holy shit, Blackbird,” Hael murmurs appreciatively, hips still rocking rhythmically against my ass. I wonder if he isn’t remembering what we did in the Camaro that day behind the school. I know that I am, pushing my body back to meet his thrusts, so that our bodies come together with a wet slap.
Hael yanks me back against him, finishing himself with a ragged groan and then stroking his fingers up my back like he’s petting me. He doesn’t say anything as I glance back at him; he’s nothing but a shadowy figure in a mask right now, at least to my eyes. The rest of me knows exactly who he is, with that sweet coconut oil smell and those soft, soft hands.
Victor encourages Hael to move back with a lazy flick of his fingers. My ass is smarting, body wet with sweat and desperate for more. Hael smiles at me, his teeth white in the dark, but the expression is a bit macabre with the mask and the strange lighting.
There’s a tense moment there where I’m afraid that Vic might ask Hael to leave.
When he doesn’t, I breathe easy as Hael takes up a position on my other side.
“Oscar.”
That next name, falling from Victor’s mouth like a hot ember, makes me go completely still. I look back at the headboard, instead of at the lithe, inked monster crawling onto the bed behind me. The last two times we fucked—the only two times we fucked—he left me. Abandoned me. Ruined me.
I bite my lip.
Oscar trails his long fingers down my spine as I shiver.
“What’s the matter, Bernadette?” he asks, his voice like cognac, his pain hidden beneath a smooth exterior and a layer of ink. The son of a serial killer. That’s what he said, dropped that information in my lap and then fled the room like always. If he leaves tonight, I won’t forgive him again.
We say nothing to one another as he curves those long, pretty fingers of his around my hip, nails digging into my flesh just hard enough to hurt. He’s good at that, though, Oscar is. He can find the line between pleasure and pain and straddle it like he could command either side at will. His control seems limitless, but it’s not. It most definitely is not. I’ve seen him break. I’ve seen him shoot a man in the head. I just want to see him soften, if only for a split-second, if only for me.
I risk looking back again, finding Oscar’s long, lean body silhouetted against the TV screen. He’s almost startling to look at, seeing as he’s always buttoned-down tight in his suits. Right now, he seems unfettered, unchained, a piece of taboo meant only for me.
I can’t bear to look at him as he enters me, so I don’t. Instead, I glance over at Vic. He hasn’t moved, slouched against the pillows like a slothful king, an elbow propped on a bent knee, dark eyes glittering. He looks like an animal that’s lying in wait in the grass, using every ounce of patience they possess to keep from pouncing until the prey is close enough to kill with a single bite.
I close my eyes and let my head hang, anticipating the feel of Oscar’s fingers on my throat. He doesn’t disappoint, wrapping them around my neck and encouraging me to arch my back. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to do this again, after Kali. But, I guess, like Aaron, I’m a glutton for punishment. As Oscar gives me a carefully calculated squeeze, a gasp of pleasure slips past my parted lips.
With his other hand, he guides himself into me, his piercings hitting different places than Hael’s did. My body loves it, too, and I find myself moaning and rocking with him, lifting my ass up so that his balls hit my clit with each forward movement.
The orgasm surprises both of us, I think, taking over me as I grab the headboard for support, exhilaration and euphoria pouring through me in equal measures. I’m being terrible tonight, wanton and sinful, and I love it. I love being bad. And I’m not ashamed.
“Liar,” Kali’s voice whispers in my head, but I ignore her. Oscar pauses only so long as it takes me to recover my breath, sliding his cock all the way in, and then all the way back out. Long, slow strokes. He kills me with those movements, granting my aching body exactly what it wants and taking it away again.
When his fingers twitch just a tad too tight, I know that he’s about to break. He starts to fuck me furiously then, driving me into the mattress as he holds onto my throat. His thumb teases my lower lip as he comes, adding to the mess we’re already making of this bed.
He stays where is for a few, precious, quiet seconds, and then moves to leave.
Just like I knew he would.
Vic lifts a single brow in my direction. It’s the only part of him that moves other than his smile, and that level of self-control, fuck, it’s miraculous to behold. It’s like he’s asking me how the fuck I’m going to wrangle this man that I’ve loved since he made me a paper dress in elementary school.