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“Then why in holy flaming hell, darlin’,” Beau grinds out, looking between me and Jayk, “does it look like he’s come off a war zone?”
Despite the bitter resentment behind his eyes, a self-satisfied smirk starts working its way across his face. He raises his eyebrows at me, as if to say, “Go ahead.” Asshole. “Well, I—um—may have gotten . . . I might have . . . gottenalittlecarriedaway.”
my traitorous eyes can’t help but slide over the delicious muscles that I was oh-so-intimately acquainted with last night. A shiver chases up my spine. Bad librarian. He is not a piece of meat. His eyes are up—
Did you stop to think about why they’re all here in the first place? It has to be territorial, right? A push out from Cyanide, maybe?” I grimace at that thought. Cyanide City is the closest city to us, about a week south—called Cyanide because it’s damn suicide to go there. After the strikes settled down, it became a war zone, with every gang around trying to claim their corner, and every stupid asshole who managed to get his hands on a gun trying to loot supplies.
Now, normally I would say that letting your psychologist whip you until you come somewhat stretches the bounds of friendship—but lying to myself isn’t my kink. Jasper is torturously perfect. Perfectly painful. And if he’d wanted to work me over every night since our very own D-day to satisfy his frustrated sadistic needs, I’d have buckled the handcuffs myself.
I’m so hard I hurt. I ache. But I’m used to aching for Jasper.
During one of our scenes, after he’d whipped me until I was wrung raw and crying at his feet, he rewarded me by wrapping one of those used silk shirts around my swollen cock and stroking me until I spilled everything I had into the fabric.
I’m jealous of him. I’m jealous of her too. I’m jealous that it’s so uncomplicated for them to be together but for some reason it’s the hardest thing in the world for us. It must be because I’m a man, but the conversation has never been on the table, and I’ve been too chicken shit to ask.
“If I asked something selfish of you, would you do it?”
“Anything. I’ll do anything for you,”
That’s what he is, I realize. Unfeeling, untouchable, beautiful art. And I can stare at him all day but, really, he’s never going to look back.
I haven’t been this attracted to anyone since, well, since Jasper. But I would much rather both of us be under him, at his mercy, than have her at mine.
I mean, I know he gets worked up—it’s impossible to miss his arousal during our scenes—but I always put that down to his kink rather than me. More of a “whipping subbies until their sobs soothe my cranky temper” boner than a “Lucky is my one true love and I’d give anything to brand his soul with mine” hard-on. Heart-on? I wish I gave him a heart-on.
“Twister is a game of strength and balance. I mustn’t be impeded by something so insignificant as a shirt,” he tells me in a fair imitation of Jasper’s haughty, silken tones.
there’s something else here. Something joyful and scorching and giddy. Something that makes me want to melt into him and spend days giggling in sun-soaked meadows.
His back hits the mat, and I fall with him, the sudden movement burying him deep in my throat. I lift my head in shock, licking him as I go, then beam at him. “I won!” Lucky snorts a laugh, then his fingers tighten in my hair. “Sure did. Congrats. Very proud.” His voice is raw and throaty. “Now have mercy on me and put that sexy as fuck mouth back on my dick.”
That’s it, it’s official: I’m a sex goddess.
“If you think I’m anything but completely kid-in-a-candy-store-who-also-has-ten-million-puppies level of happy to have you here, you need a brain transplant.”
“Hey, beautiful.” “Lucky?” I prompt. “Do you mind?” It does sound a lot like “fuck off” when I say it out loud like that. Lucky looks at me in surprise. “Oh! Of course. Sorry.” He leans up and kisses me on the cheek. “You’re beautiful too, Beau,” he says seriously.
By all that’s holy, she’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“You want me to give you a check-up, is that what you’re askin’?” I drawl. She stares at me wordlessly, her breaths shallow. Her pink tongue darts out to swipe at her lower lip, and the wet trail it leaves is nothing short of profane. “I— Maybe?” Her voice is gorgeous, husky. Ripe with desire. “That’s very considerate of you,” I tell her, and start playing with the loose strands of her hair. Goosebumps lift the small hairs on her arms. “Gettin’ yourself prepared so we can all spread you out and fill you up with our cum.”
“You want me to do it here?” I ask thickly. “Open you up and see where you’re all pink and pretty? Right here, where anyone could walk in?”
“Does it make you wet? Thinking about me spilling inside that sweet pussy of yours? You want me to take you bare?” I run my other hand up the inside of her thigh, and her legs part so eagerly that I need to adjust myself. “Do you want me to fill you up? Or do you want me to paint those pretty breasts?”
Survival tip #245 Find the biggest predator you can. Then hide behind them.
“Hand her over, Jayk,” Dom grits out.
“Nah. She’s good here.”
“Stay out of my room. You try and take anything else that doesn’t belong to you, and I’ll hold you down and have Beau beat your ass so you can’t sit for a week. Running off to Jayk won’t save you then either. Understood?” I flush and duck my head. “Yes, understood. Sorry, sir.”
my glasses slip down. Jayk nudges them back up my nose, careful not to touch my skin with his oil-greased fingers. My lips part in surprise at the gentle touch.
That’s so fucking sweet 😭😭😭😭😭 and that’s coming from someone with glasses. On fuck I just know this man is a softie inside
“I just feel safe with you, I guess.” Heavy brows lower, and I can’t help but smile at his consternation. “Does that really surprise you?” I ask. I’m not sure what it is about him, but he makes me bold. I let my fingertips rub over a spot of engine grease on his thick bicep where it mars one of his tattoos. “I can’t imagine why. You’re strong.” I lick my lips and force myself to continue. “Attractive. You took care of me the other night, even though you pretended you wouldn’t.”
“Thank you for helping me, Jayk.” His gaze swings back to mine, a deep, beautiful midnight blue. Something glimmers in their depths like stars, so unfathomably inside him, I wouldn’t have seen it if I hadn’t been soaking them in. Red rolls into his cheeks, and he pulls back abruptly. He shrugs. “Yeah, whatever. Don’t get used to it or anything.”
I have flaws I’m not so proud of, Eden. I’ve broken in ways that shame me. I haven’t yet found a way to turn them into something I can find beautiful.” I stare at him, taken aback by the raw honesty in his tone. Cryptic as ever, yes . . . but it feels like a confession. “I think you’re beautiful,”
Did I think he was darkness before? In the soft lights of the room, he shines like a star.
“Everything,” I whisper. “I want it all.”
“My mother liked to hear my father play—she designed the intercom system so his music could play through each room of the house. Lucien must have accidentally forgot to turn it off.”
“You sounded . . . happy.” Jasper’s voice is feather soft. “Were you?” When he captures my gaze, he doesn’t let it go. “Was he?” I think it might be impossible to lie to him, at his feet like this. “It was one of the happiest days of my life,”
“Is dinner ready?” No. I don’t want dinner. I want kisses for dinner.
I don’t like hypocrites. If you enjoy something, say so. You feel something, feel it. People who put a stranglehold on their lives because they’re too afraid to actually do what they want are pathetic. And frustrating to be around.” “Now ain’t that the funniest thing, partner—I agree with you completely,”
“You feel like crawling through the dirt again tonight, princess, I’ll fuck your ass so hard your crown comes right off.”
“Put them down, pet. You don’t need to clean up after us.”
“No, I don’t, because I am not a pet, Beau,” I yell. I yell and I want to keep yelling. “I’m Eden, and I deserve better than this, damn you.”
“I am Eden. A person, not a doll, not your pet. And I am. Pissed. Off.”
“I’m not nothing, I can help. I can contribute more than just sex,” I tell his chest. “I’m not nothing.”
“I’ve seen your kindness, too. With me, with Lucky. You were afraid of us when we first met, and you still tried to get us to run to save our lives. And you’re so damn brave. You stood up to Dom when he went after Jayk with his hunting knife, and you with only your bare, tiny fists. I see you, Eden, and you’re the furthest thing from nothing I’ve ever met.”
With her small, warm palm in mine, I have the strangest feeling that I’m handing over far more than I bargained for. Maybe she’s the faerie queen after all.
Oh, their stupid muscles and stupid smiles and stupid kisses are making me stupid. I’m going to be in so much trouble.
“Stupid son of a—” “Hey, I’m sure the machine’s mama was a nice lady.”
“Not in a talking mood? That’s cool. We don’t need to talk. People talk too much, is what I always say. Talk about nothing really, just go on and on and on . . . ” My grip on the screwdriver tightens, and I imagine it plunging into his neck. It’s long enough—could probably get him right through the voice box. “And on and on . . .” “Don’t you have somewhere better to be?”
Some idiotic thing in my head thought she was coming back to work in here with me. But that really was stupid. That day was a one off. She was hiding from Dom and needed the big bad monster to protect her. If she really wanted to hang out, she wouldn’t come to me.
You’re all slumber buddies who like to braid each other’s hair or whatever, that’s fine. Whatever gets you hard. But leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone.”
It’s always been pretty clear I’m the ugly duck of the heroic little swan crew.
