This is precisely what I meant when I said I’ve seen Razor become unpleasant with the other guys.
He has Xene down on his back and is straddling over him with his hands in a tight noose around his throat, his veins bulging from how much force he’s implementing to cut his oxygen.
Everyone knows to stay back.
As much as it churns my stomach to see, to witness everyone standing around in a circle, talking to him like a feral dog, it’s just—safer.
“Harder… Daddy,” Xene grunts, his red face turning purple.
His ignorance has me shaking my head, instinctively chewing on my nails with rampant breaths darting my eyes around to see if anyone’s going to step in before it’s too late.
Xene could probably buck him off. Maybe. He could at least try.
But I think he, uh… likes this.
Which doesn’t alleviate how staggering it is to be a bystander of.
Cash finally squats down near Xene’s head, giving Razor authoritative eyes and lacing his twitching fingers between his legs. “Take your medicine. Bunny’s watchin’ this mess.”
“Bunny,” Razor repeats, a deranged laugh huffing from his hoarse throat as he lowers a smile to Xene. “How’s her pussy smell on my breath?”
“Great,” Xene chokes out.
A whine thrums my hiving chest, chewing my nails harder, not knowing what to expect next.
With a rough shove, Razor’s slamming Xene’s head back to the floor and springing to his feet.
As if it’s just now clicking, Ora gasps, snapping her shocked jaw to me trying to inch away. “You guys…” Swatting a hand up, she oscillates a fast finger over Razor and me.
My eyes bulge in tandem with the air pocketing in my cheeks, sending a telepathic message that this is not the time.
“Oh, shit, yeah.” Her hair whips with her head, her brows crinkling down at Xene heaving for air. “You fucking perv!”
I don’t get to see past the flaccid kick she does to his side that prompts him to laugh and grab her ankle. Black fabric stretched over a firm chest is infiltrating my buzzing vision and two calloused hands are slipping around my waist.
He says nothing. He doesn’t have to for me to hear the ire stiffening each breath filling the hallway as he pulls me into his room.
I don’t think he’d hurt me. He never has. But I’m still scared to be alone with him so soon after… that.
Getting ushered to his bed, I nervously placate by taking the seat he’s coaxing me into, tying my fingers on top of my legs, and remaining stiff to track him.
He relaxes his tense face, falling to his knees around my feet. “I’m sorry, baby bunny.” Dropping his head to my lap, he brings his hands to the outer sides of my thighs, running his frustration up to the distressed hem of my overalls.
“Stop accepting less than worship.”
Is this worship?
Or is it him weaponizing how impressionable I am?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RAZOR
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. For the five hundredth time.
Fuck, I’ll say it until my throat bleeds. Because I am. I just… It’sreallyhard to get out of a straitjacket.
That’s how it feels when it comes to Bunny getting disrespected or hurt. This smothering ire throws a tight tarp around me, and I destroy shit by trying to get out.
