Miles snorts, a bitter sound, and wipes his hand across his bleeding face. “Do you even want to know how this happened?” His tone isn’t accusatory, just wary, cautious.
Jamie glances up at him. “What are we doing, Miles?” His voice is rough, tight with everything he’s not saying.
“I don’t know,” Miles admits, then looks at me. “But you—after tonight, you don’t have to see either of us again. Ever.”
The words hit me harder than I expect. A strange relief mixes with the fear and longing tangled inside me.
“Really?” My voice is soft, tentative, almost desperate. “I’ll… I’ll be free?”
Miles gives a slow nod. “After tonight, you never have to see our faces again. That’s a promise.”
I swallow, the tension in my chest easing just a fraction. My lips part, and before I fully understand what I’m doing, I lean forward and press them to his. The kiss is short, impulsive, fragile, and it’s all the release I can handle right now.
Jamie’s hands slide under my arms, lifting me with ease. I let him guide me to the bed, muscles slack with exhaustion and everything else—the fear, the adrenaline, the confusion, the pull I feel toward both of them. Miles falls into step beside us, limping slightly, eyes dark but steady on me.
Jamie’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he reaches for me again, his hand trailing down my thigh as Miles approaches the bed, shedding his black jacket to reveal a shirt stained with blood. The confusion in my head spikes—this wasn’t part of it, not my plan, but the adrenaline surges anew, pulling me under as Miles’s fingers join Jamie’s, both men touching me now, their hands exploring, claiming. Jamie’s mouth finds my breast again, sucking hard, while Miles kneels beside the bed, his lips brushing my inner thigh, inching higher.
I gasp, body arching into their touches, the chains a reminder of my captivity even as pleasure reignites. Miles’s tongue teases my clit, gentle at first compared to Jamie’s earlier roughness, while Jamie’s fingers circle my entrance, pushing in alongside the lingering ache. Their mouths and hands work in tandem, one sucking, the other thrusting, and I lose myself in the overload, moans spilling free as they take turns, switching places until I’m writhing, begging without words.
Jamie stands, shedding his jeans once more, his cock in hand as he strokes himself, watching Miles bury his face between my legs. Then he climbs back on, positioning his tip at my lips.
“Open,” he commands, and I do, taking him in, tongue swirling around the head as he thrusts shallowly.
Miles rises too, freeing his own erection—longer than Jamie’s, curved slightly—and lines up at my pussy, sliding in slow, deliberate.
They move together, Jamie fucking my mouth while Miles pounds into me, their rhythms syncing in a way that drives me wild. Hands everywhere—Jamie’s in my hair, Miles gripping my hips—pulling me between them. The confusion blurs into ecstasy, fear forgotten in the heat of it all, my body surrendering as they push me toward the edge again, this time with no interruptions, just the raw, unrelenting pleasure of being utterly taken. I come on Miles dick, and he stretches out my orgasm as long as possible, making me practically bite Jamie’s dick in my mouth. Miles comes all over my stomach and Jamie pulls out, turns me around and fucks me from behind and shortly after, he comes all over my back.
30
Miles
Theroomisdark,but I can see her. She’s curled up on the mattress we dragged to the floor, soft lines and pale skin illuminated by the moonlight slicing through the blinds. She looks small, fragile, innocent—and the truth claws at me. She doesn’t belong here, not like this, not with us.Not with me.
I keep my distance at first, leaning against the wall, eyes tracing her face. Her hair spills over the pillow, a golden halo I don’t deserve to look at. Every rise and fall of her chest is too beautiful, too pure, and I have to remind myself she’s a piece in a game that’s long since stopped being simple. She’s the girl who almost destroyed us. The girl who still could.
Jamie stirs in his sleep beside her, stretching in a way that makes him even more impossible to ignore. I glance at him, silent, careful not to let my attention on him betray me. My pulse is steady, but I’m tense. One wrong move, one creak, and the night shatters.
My hand drifts toward my jeans, discarded across the floor. I need my phone. I need information. I need to figure out how to move. The fabric rustles slightly as I slide my fingers under it. My screen lights up. A few missed calls from Benny. Just what I needed.
I bite back a curse and check the messages. The last one hits me like a punch I didn’t see coming. Shit. This is exactly what I feared.
I need to get outside, need to take the call without waking them. I ease myself along the floor, every step deliberate and careful. Jamie shifts in his sleep but doesn’t wake. Chloe is still curled onto her side, soft and small, the rise and fall of her chest hypnotic. I don’t let myself linger too long.
The cool night air hits as I step outside, phone pressed to my ear. Benny’s voice is cautious, already tense. I can feel it before he even speaks.
“Miles, where the hell have you been? We’ve got problems.”
I run a hand through my hair, trying to stay calm. “I know.”
I swallow hard, the memory burning. The plan. I had sent the message to Matthew Ashford. I hadn’t given him the details—just enough to set the trap. I kidnapped Chloe and killed the accountant, Marano. The deal was simple in my head. A private account, twelve million dollars transferred, and Ashford gets his daughter back, Matthew panics, pays, I get the money, arrange how to get it to Victor, and Chloe is free. She can run.
And now… it’s all gone to shit.
Ashford’s dead.
The bastard committed suicide.
The leverage is gone.
