A man that I truly and utterly know nothing about.
I don’t know about the serial killer thing, and I don’t understand why his hair is blond at the roots but dyed black. I didn’t know about the foster home or his proclivity for knots. None of it. Because he kept his life carefully orchestrated and hidden away from me.
“Don’t,” I growl out and Oscar pauses, looking back at me with a sharpness to the set of his mouth that scares me. I might be naked and prone on the bed, and I might’ve bitched out when it came to finishing Kali off, but there are some things I’m serious about. “You ran once, twice, and I forgave you. Do not do it again.”
“I could hogtie him for you,” Cal suggests, but I think he’s only half joking to be honest. Part of me wonders if he really would try. And then who would win? Every time I think I have the guys figured out, they surprise me. Cal versus Oscar? God, it’d be a bloodbath. If it were a fair fight, I imagine Callum would win. But when in life is anything ever ‘fair’? The world is cutthroat, so it’s quite possible that Oscar could surprise Cal somehow.
I’m just glad I don’t ever have to see that scenario come to life.
“Callum Park, kindly the shut the fuck up,” Oscar says, but he stays where he is, one hand on the doorknob. His fingers tap it lightly. “Tell me why,” he begins, turning back around to look at me. It’s hard to see past the mask to what he might be feeling underneath, but at least the question is easy enough to answer. “Tell me why you want me, and I’ll stay.”
“Because,” I whisper, keeping my attention on him, even as my body quivers and I wonder how much longer I’ll be able to stay on all fours before I collapse into a boneless heap. “I’ve loved you since we were in elementary school.”
Slowly, almost cautiously, Oscar makes his way over to the chair in the corner and folds his long body into it. It’s not as close as I’d like him to be, but it’s something. He’s such a hard-ass, but I know—I just know—that underneath it all, there’s something special for me to find. Maybe I’ll be the only person in the world who gets to see it, but it’s there.
I just have to dig it out, past all the bullshit and the bad memories and the pain.
What I don’t know about Oscar, but that I’ll find out later, is that he checks on the girls at night for me. Heather will always remember the glare of the moon on his glasses and smile. That’s the kind of person he is, even if he won’t let anyone else know about it.
“He warned you first,” Callum says, giving a dark chuckle as Vic beckons him forward. He leans over me, and I spread my legs wider, wanting him so badly it hurts. “Did you hear that? He was nice enough to issue a warning.” He shakes his head briefly and sighs against my shoulder. I can practically taste him, but when I turn my head for a kiss, Cal keeps his distance. “I’m sorry that I didn’t give you that option.”
He finally relents and offers me his lips, but the kiss is brief and apologetic.
Kissing is best done with two people, and there are six of us in here. Six of us, and me with a red ass and a dripping pussy. I exhale sharply as Callum presses a second kiss to my shoulder, reaching around to find my clit with two fingers. He breathes against my skin for a moment, teasing my body with his hand.
Callum chuckles, burying his face against the side of my neck and making my lids flutter as my fingers dig into the mattress. There’s just something about him that makes me feel safe, like I could curl up in his hoodie pocket forever.
He sits back on his heels and I follow the motion by turning my head. Cal is tattooed in some places, scarred in others, his entire body toned and tight, lean. A dancer’s body. How did I not know he was so into ballet? How did I let us drift so far apart in those years between junior high and sophomore year? I got swept up in Aaron, but it was inevitable that fate would bring me back to the rest of the Havoc Boys in some way or another.
Cal pushes his blonde hair back from his face. It’s shiny and layered with the fine strokes of a razor, not long but not military short either, that perfect in-between. His mouth is full and lush and pink, his eyes the shape of sideways teardrops, big and blue and endless.
Looking back at him like this, it’s easy to see that there was a switch inside of him somewhere and that getting jumped and losing his chance at a career in dance, that flipped it. Callum Park is almost two people, split right down the middle. One half is the person he used to be, and the other is a monster who enjoys the horrible things he does.
“I killed six men while I was looking for you,” he tells me, sighing heavily. Cal runs a finger up my spine as I drop my chin to my chest and do my best to keep breathing. But fuck, even just the touch of his finger is like agony on my tortured body; it feels almost too good. “Kali is so fucking lucky that Aaron got there first.” He draws his hand back and reaches between us to guide his cock to my aching cunt.
“Only six?” is what I want to say, but the words won’t come. Instead, all I can do is let out a ragged exhale as Callum slides into me.
The way he lurks in shadows, or wears his hood up, somebody might get the wrong impression that the world scares Cal, or that he’s hiding from it. What they’re not getting is that he’s simply learned to meld with the dark, to slip into the fabric of shadows and embrace them, that’s all. There is no confidence lacking in this man.
He fucks like it, too, like he has every confidence in himself and me. In us.
I don’t bother moving like I did with Hael or Oscar. Instead, I let Callum take complete control, stoking the ember in my belly to flames with his easy, practiced strokes. He worships my body with his hands, too, sliding his palm up my back, caressing my ass with the other. He isn’t afraid to moan either, and the chilling sounds of pleasure unwinding from his scarred throat turn my body inside out.
Isn’t it interesting, how a broken thing can be so beautiful? Callum’s voice isn’t the one he was born with; it was gifted to him by violence. But he wields it so perfectly that you’d never know, would you?
He ends up leaning over me, one palm on the bed to support his weight, the other sliding across my mouth.
“Bite me,” he whispers, sliding a finger between my lips. I suck on it for a moment, and then I bite down just hard enough to make him shudder. I can tell that he likes it as much as I do, that edge of pain and pleasure. Cal adjusts his place, moving faster, stroking deeper.
If I said it didn’t hurt—even with the weed and the three Vicodin I popped earlier—I’d be lying. It does. My side is killing me, and I’ve got a bit of a migraine from when the first bullet grazed my skull. But this is what I want tonight. I want to feel hard bodies and hot hands; I want to know I’m still here and that I didn’t end up dead for my mistake.
When I heard that gunshot, when I thought I was going to die on my knees in front of that backstabbing rat, I was afraid. I was so afraid that I refused to admit it until just now. Like, maybe I was in some sort of emotional shock.
“Shit,” I breathe, my arms giving out until my upper body is resting on the bed, my head on my forearms. Cal pauses briefly, removes a pillow from the mountain beside us, and then uses it to prop my hips.
Then he keeps going, his climax making his body quiver and spasm against mine before he triggers yet another reaction in me. My pussy squeezes around him, milking Cal’s cock and drawing these beautiful, husky sounds from his throat. He really does have the best voice, the most unique. I could listen to him whispering in my ear from sundown to sunup every night and never get bored of it. We come more or less around the same time, and he rolls off to lie next to Hael, digging his fingers into his blond hair.
“Fuck,” Cal breathes, closing his eyes as I tremble at the thought of Aaron watching all of this. I mean, I know they’re all watching, but he’s the only one left, standing at the foot of the bed and staring at me.
He climbs onto the bed slowly, the cuffs on his wrists clanking slightly. They bump against my overheated body as he caresses my ass with his left hand. When he spanks me, the cuff slaps against my wet core and I’m forced to bite my lip to hold back another moan.
“Bernie,” Aaron breathes, and I can tell then that he wanted to go last, that when Vic ordered him in here, he at least granted Aaron one request. He takes his time getting into position, his right hand temporarily useless and rendering him unable to touch me anywhere but between the thighs. He can’t lean over me and brace a palm on the bed the way the other boys can, not for at least three weeks. As far as his leg goes, with a broken fibula, he can still walk.
Or fuck.
Most importantly, that.
Aaron slides into me with the hot, hard length of his shaft, completing this macabre and carnal ritual, officially anointing this den of sin with the seal of Havoc Girl. It’s a point of pride for me to ride the last man in my harem, working my body against his as our moans mingle together, and I become acutely aware of four other sets of eyes watching us both.
It’s a familiar sensation, being watched like that. They all used to watch us, back in freshman year, when it was just me and Aaron alone in the world, just two lovers blinded to everything but each other. It was a nice experience, and I’m glad I got to share it with him … but this is better.
All of us together, blood in and blood out for Havoc.
With everyone else in the room satisfied and quiet, we don’t feel the need to hurry. Instead, we take it slow, our movements languid and familiar, the clanking of the cuffs a quiet accompaniment to our natural rhythm.
Aaron reaches around for my clit, not an easy feat for him considering he’s got a cast on his other hand. He touches that cast to my hip, giving himself just enough stability to work my body until I’m forced into another orgasm, one that tears through me like a storm, leaving everything wet and electrified in its wake. He lets himself finish in me, and then he collapses, pulling me against his body and wrapping me up in his rose and sandalwood scent.
Underneath it all, the smell of sex and sweat permeates the room.