“Of course,” she says brightly, sliding away a few inches.
The moment he turns around, she grabs a nearby wooden spoon and whacks his ass.
“Fuck!” Seth blows laughter through his cheeks, coughing on his popcorn. “What a woman!”
Rory turns on a heel, growls, and pins her to the counter before she can escape. Vincent falls into a crouch, ready to charge. Since I’m closest to him, I touch his shoulder, appreciating how he calms for me. Chest no less tight. Shoulders no less tense. But he relaxes.
Reaching around her, Rory grips the whiskey, not denying himself the opportunity to grind that 12-inch cock against her pelvis like a prediction. She simply smiles at him as he uncaps the whiskey and takes another swig.
What the fuck is she up to?
Once Rory moves to the other side of the kitchen, Vincent comes out of his crouch.
I survey his ink. Bloody roses and skulls. A serpent coiled around his neck, its fangs bared and tail wrapped tight around his throat like a noose. I may have seen his tattoos a thousand times, but he’s never shared their meaning. War stories, etched in ink and pain. We’re both warriors. I’m just more…controlled, rigid, and militant.
It’s why Raphael and I work well as somewhat equal partners. Vincent could, too, if he learned to shed his armor. I gave up my armor the night Raphael came for me, saved mefrom a life of imprisonment or…a quick death by hanging in a cell.
Fucking in a ditch with the fires of the prison transport and the blood he spilled in our wake was one of the best nights of my life. He owned me from that night.
Rory fixates on Briella, tapping his finger along the counter like some attempted mind fuck. She tilts her head and…oh, fuck, her eyes roam all over his body. His mostly settle on her tits.
“Five minutes left. Are ye scared now, Lass?” he taunts, pouring another splash of whiskey into his coffee.
She shakes her head, her beam practically shining. “Even if I lose, it will be a great responsibility, an honor even, for you to feed me, big Red. Nurture me.” She touches her chest, making a show of it by gushing. “Maybe you can get in touch with your feminine side.”
Growling, he sets the whiskey bottle with a loud thud on the counter. He’s downed half the bottle by now. Wonderful. He gets crazier on whiskey. The only reason Raphael allows it is because it helps Rory get the crazy out. Sometimes, he gets flirty like he is with Briella. Even now, his heady blue eyes are fixed on her while he hums an old Scottish tune, nearly ready to break into song.
Other times, he can pick a fight with any of us just for breathing wrong, growling threats, ready to throw down. The kind of man who’ll dance with you, then burn the building down if the music stops.
The bastard will strip down to his skin and bolt into the woods like a goddamn wolf and return like he rode the pack and got bored.
So, why do I believe Briella is the she-wolf he could never hope to tame?
28
Seth
“MAYBE SHE POISONED THE SCONES OR SOMETHING.”
Citizen Soldier Playlist
“You Are Enough”
Rory looks like he’s about to eat her, or well…eat her the other kind of way.
Watching her handle my partner in a way I never could, yeah, that gets me hard. The way her tits look in that dress, half hanging out, yeah, that gets me harder. Especially when she bent at the waist to grab a mixing bowl, showing off those pretty, rosy tips.
Everyone underestimates me. I do what I need to fit in, belong, and make myself useful.
My charm is a tool like everything else. But inside? With or without the rest, I’m dying to bend her over the counter, rub her face in the flour, and fuck her hard from behind. Need to feel her. Feel something other than all the shit we’ve been through.
I’m a switch. Rory can use me as he wants because I’m strong enough to handle it. His hot blood. His crazy. And his monster dong.
It was one of the best moments of my life, reminding himhowstrong I am in that cave when I rode him like my bitch, dug my cock in so deep, I rearranged his insides.
With Briella, I’m all dom. If she brats off to me, I’ll grab her hair, kiss her hard, and dare her to try it again. My body thrums with hunger, restless. I need an outlet. Can’t keep standing here watching her put Rory in his place, and those perfect tits nearly spilling out of her dress.
Gotta go chop some wood. Or fix the fence on the south side. Do what I do best. The tools become an extension of my body. I won’t think about that spill of violet curls, big hazel eyes, and the way her hot pussy felt around my cock. Sharp heat shoots to my length.
