Page 16 of Revenant's Fire

“Brake, if you don’t get your cock out of this kitchen I will cut it off,” Revenant growls low and slow, the tone sending shivers down my spine. And not in a bad way.

“Fuck, Rev,” my head jerks back to the scene beside me, “Fuck, I’m almost, fuck fuck fuck!” The stump of Brake’s left hand hits the steel as he holds himself up, grunting and groaning low, his ass cheeks twitching.

The cut slut hollows her cheeks and her throat works, swallowing around Brake’s manhood. My thighs clench a little as I stare unabashed as they both reach their peak, the bunny moaning, her own juices dripping onto the linoleum beneath her.

“Holy shit, Trinity. Fuck, baby, lemme see.” Brake taps ‘Trinity’s’ chin with his good hand and she opens her mouth, Brake’s seed on her tongue.

“Good girl.” He dismisses her with a chin jerk before turning to Rev with a grin. “So, you were saying?”

Revenant

I’m going to kill him. Or her. Or someone. But shit, someone or something needs to die so I can get my mind off Sunny watching Brake throat fuck Trinity. Her eyes hooded with desire, her plump lips parted, the way she was squirming on that bar stool. My cock is so fucking hard the press of my zipper against him is almost painful.

“Get. The. Fuck. Out,” I growl at Brake, unable to do anything else.

My hands are gripping the countertop like my life fucking depends on it. If I let go, I just might grab Sunny and do something that we’ll both regret.

Brake yanks his pants up awkwardly, Trinity having the presence of mind to help him. She pulls up his zipper, buttons his jeans and then taps his softening cock.

“Now!” I roar, uncaring who else hears me losing my shit in here.

Turning to the reason why I’m losing my grip on shit, Sunny sits there, legs crossed, eyes on Trinity and Brake. My head pulses watching her look at him that way. She’s too pure, too innocent, too… not mine. That’s what I need to remember. She’s not mine. Not in that way. What do I care if she looks at Brake like that? I’m here strictly to keep her safe. That’s all.

“Food,” I bark, making Sunny jump.

“Ah, yeah,” she clears her throat, “food, that’s what we’re here for!” She chirps, slapping her small hand on the countertop near mine. “How about you sit, and I cook?”

In Sunny fashion she doesn't wait for my answer. She hops off the stool and I don’t miss the way her legs tremble slightly. She straightens and heads for the double fridge, yanking open the doors and peering in.

“Huh. Color me surprised,” she mutters.

“What? Think we’re all just a bunch of animals eating pot noodles or takeout?” I say, thankful Brake and his dick have left the room so I can get a fucking grip.

“Yes,” she says, but I don’t miss her smirk.

I lean against the counter, watching as Sunny moves around the kitchen like she was born to be here. She hums a little to herself while she assembles whatever it is she’s making, and it gives me an opportunity to watch her. At some stage she put on one of my tshirts. The material swamps her, completely hiding the jean cutoffs I know she’s wearing. She lost her cowboy boots in my room too, so she’s standing at the counter, peeling apples in her socks. I’ll have to carry her back to my room. I don’t want her stepping in body fluids or anything. She hums softly to herself as she thinly slices apples. The name suits her, Sunny. She’s light and good and all the things a man like myself would dirty up too much.

“How did Brake lose his hand?” she asks, eyes on the skillet she’s heating.

“Disarming a bomb.”

She snorts, “Instead it disarmed him.” She looks over her shoulder and wags her brows. It’s a terrible joke, but it doesn't stop the slow smile growing on my face. She shakes her head suddenly, covering her mouth. “I cannot believe I just said that out loud. Poor Brake.”

“Nothing poor about the man,” I rumble, “he’s doing just fine.”

“He sure is,” Sunny says under her breath and my fists clench.

Her shoulders jiggle a little and I frown at her back. “What?”

“No need to growl, big guy. Brake isn’t my type.”

“What is your type?” Shit. I cringe at the words that fly from my mouth unbidden.

Sunny turns slowly from the pan, flipper in hand, eyes on mine. She blinks, her gaze travels down my body, taking in my fists clenched on the countertop, before her eyes meet mine again.

“I like my men a little darker.”

Her words hang in the air between us as the silence grows. All the words that need to be said held hostage between us.