Noah’s screams multiply as his brain finally catches up to what just transpired.
“Move, Finley, and go ride his face until he bleeds out,” I shout, and she jumps out of the way.
Why not let the dude get one more cockless nut before he disappears into the void?
Then I take the Noahsicle, shove it inside Delaney’s pussy, and use my gloved hand to rub her clit.
Giddy with the frozen dildo, I’ve decided I want to try it before it thaws, imagining the taste of Delaney’s cunt on it.
“Watch out. She’s?—”
My skull feels like it’s caved in while someone curb-stomps me. I’m trying to figure out where I am and what happened when I hear her.
Talia.
She’s finally here.
“Let me guess, you think he’s going to keep you and the two of you will ride off into the fucked-in-the-head sunset?”
I snort, loving Talia’s ever-amusing wit.
“Back off, bitch,” Finley seethes. “Or, I’ll make you a hood ornament.”
My lips curl at her threat. Who the fuck did Finleythink she was to be talking to my queen like that? She’d better be happy I’m not coherent enough to snap her neck.
Groaning, I crack my eyes open slowly, trying to move, only to discover that I’m tied to something.No, not tied—chained.
“How unfortunate. You’re still in the land of the living, and I’m forced to share the same air as you,” Talia hisses.
“I’ve been waiting for you, my sweet, sweet Talia.” I croon honestly.
The neon-red mask she loves is resting on the top of her head, giving me a rare glimpse of her beauty. Her big hazel eyes dipped in honey, her full, cupid’s bow, plush lips, and flawless skin.
“I’ve been waiting for you, you sick, sick bastard,” she admonishes, mocking my earlier statement.
“Don’t you fucking speak to him like that,” Finley growls, her voice now more of an annoyance than its earlier sultriness.
Talia studies her. “Is she for real?”
Shrugging, I retort, “What can I say? I can’t help that I’m charming.”
Talia screws her lip up in disgust. First at me and then at Finley, like she’s trying to figure out where the factory reset is for her model.
“He’s mine,” Finley reiterates. “You can’t?—”
Before Finley can finish, Talia’s hand whips out.
“It’s too soon to be a Stockholm bitch,” she snaps, glaring as the throwing knife lands in the middle of Finley’s throat.
Ever so fierce, my Talia.
“What happened to rehab?” I tease.
Cutting her eyes at me, she arches a brow before responding, “Do I fucking look like a rehabilitation center, Fredrick?” When I smirk, but don’t respond, she continues. “Why?”
I chuckle, “Come now, beautiful. Let’s not insult each other’s intelligence by asking questions you know I’ll never answer.”
Why we did what we did isn’t something to rehash. None of us will answer, even under the threat of death. I shiver, because death would be a mercy compared to what would happen iftheyfound out we so much as thought of confessing.
