With a desperate moan, I’m shoved over the arm of the couch while Sin undoes his pants and shoves his dick into me while my cunt spasms and squeezes and milks. I’m barely coherent, overwhelmed with pleasure, drunk on it as Sin powers into me like he’s got a very specific purpose in mind.
He presses one of his hands against my belly and uses the other to grip my hip.
The way he drives into me, his balls tease my clit, and the hardened points of my nipples scrape the leather seams on the sofa. I’m tender and overstimulated, my body thrashing against Sin’s on instinct even as I push my ass back into him.
“I’ll make you come over and over and over again, until you beg me to stop,” he promises, and then he reaches around and takes over my clit with his fingers again. I’m powerless to stop another wave, shuddering and gasping and digging my toes into the floor.
This time, the tight, silky muscles inside of me drag Sin over the edge, too, and he’s thrusting into me so hard and fast that I get dizzy. When he comes, the sound is low and almost pained, and then he’s suddenly pulling out of me and picking me up.
A surprised gasp escapes me as he carries me over to the couch and lays me down with my head in Crown’s lap. Sin positions himself over the top of me, kissing my neck and shoulders, my jaw, my hairline. At the same time, he puts his hand between my legs and starts working up my already aching body into yet another climax.
I’m not sure that I can even handle being touched like that, but then he kisses me.
He kisses me and holy shit, I can feel everything about him in the shape of his mouth, the sweep of his tongue. He tastes like the future, like promises, like happy things I might actually be able to have for myself.
He tastes like the radical idea that I might not have to suffer every minute of everyday for the rest of my life.
One, last orgasm rocks me, so thoroughly taking over my body that I end up biting Sin’s lower lip until he’s grunting and bleeding just enough that there’s a salty taste on my lip.
He pulls back finally, collapsing against the sofa cushions and putting my legs in his lap.
So, I’ve got my head on Crown, my legs on Sin, my eyes on Grainger, and my heart beating concurrently with Beast’s.
“If this is what everyday of this shared relationship looks like …” Cade starts, standing up and moving over to the back door. He kicks it open as I lie there, panting and quivering and boneless and bloody. “Then I’m sure we’ll die young and happy together in a hail of gunfire.”
He lights up his cigarette and exhales into the stormy night air as I turn on my side and feel my heavy lids droop.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Whether or not the club patches me in, it doesn’t matter.
I am a Daybreaker, in my blood, in my bones, in my heart.
That’s it.
Not club princess … club queen.
I end up in a scalding shower, using the downstairs bathroom so that I can hear all four men talking in low voices down the hall. They sit in the kitchen together, opening up a poker set and playing a game while they drink and wait for me.
Even though I should be thoroughly satisfied by now, I end up taking the washcloth that Crown gave me and rubbing it against my cunt until I come again, thighs locking together as my body sags against the wall and steam turns the air around me a brilliant white, like I’m lost in another world.
I finish up and climb out, only to see that someone’s left fresh clothes for me to put on. My cheeks flush briefly at the sight, but I pretend like I don’t feel the heat rushing to my face. Instead, I towel off and get dressed in the black joggers and loose t-shirt, padding down the hall to join the boys.
I sit in Beast’s lap, and he curls an arm around me.
“Alright, you’d think with all the shit I know that I’d be able to play poker.” I gesture at the table as Sin leans back in his seat with a laugh.
“You don’t know how to play?” he asks, exchanging a look with Grainger. “So there is a limit to your superpowers, eh, Gidge?” He turns back to me, offering up one of those crooked smiles as Grainger snorts and deals a fresh hand.
“If you don’t wipe the table with the rest of us, I’ll be shocked,” Crown says dryly, leaning back in his chair as Beast chuckles underneath me, vibrating my body with the sound. I squirm against him, and he presses a scalding kiss to the side of my neck.
“Can we bet real money? I mean, can you guys bet real money since I don’t have any?” I think about that for a moment. Cat took away my debit card—the one with my own money on it—and he never bothered to give it back. Not that I had much to begin with. Am I supposed to get a job? The boys draw a salary from the club, but I won’t be able to do that … will I?
“You want to bet sexual favors instead?” Grainger queries back, playing with the pile of chips in front of him. “I’d be interested in that.”
“No,” I say, pointing at the chips. “Real money. Except for me.”
Sin snorts.
“I’m in. You shouldn’t have to work right now anyway.” He crosses his arms as he leans back in his chair to look at me. I almost protest because I think he’s going to say something stupid like because you’re pregnant. Instead, he surprises me. Pleasantly. “You should focus on getting your GED and deciding what it is that you want to do with your life.” Sin pauses and smirks, his scar pulling at the right side of his lip. “I mean, besides us.”
I roll my eyes at him and then let my gaze drift over to the refrigerator …
With a laugh, Sin gets up and pours me a glass of orange juice.
“I’m happy to share my money with you until you start making your own.” Sin pauses as he puts the jug back into the fridge and then glances back at me. “And after that, too.”
“My money is your money,” Beast agrees, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ll get you added onto my account next week.”
His account? Like, Beast kills people. He kills people and rides dirty chrome stallions, and he fucks me with his huge cock while three other men watch. And yet he has something as banal as a bank account? The idea makes me chuckle.
“I’ll support you and the baby,” Crown says with a long sigh, but not like he’s upset by the idea. More like he’s excited. This is what he wanted. What he wants. To have a partner, a family, someone that stands shoulder to shoulder with him to bear the burdens of life together. We can have that, even with the other men in my life. “Regardless of whether it’s mine or not.” Another pause. “I mean, the first one. I’m sure Gidge told you all that I asked for a child of my own.” He smirks. “She agreed.”
“The fuck?” Grainger growls out, flicking his attention back to me as Sin returns to the table with my juice. “You promised him a kid?” He hazards a glance at his superior officer and then shakes his head. “Well, if this first one isn’t mine, then I want one, too.”
“You’re an idiot,” I tell him, but he just laughs, watching my throat with undisguised hunger as I swallow down several gulps of orange juice. I set the glass down in challenge and stare at him. “Well? You’re demanding a kid, but you haven’t offered up your wallet yet. Pay up, Cade Grainger.”
He chucks one of his poker chips at me, and Beast catches it like the boss that he is.
“Don’t you dare throw things at my pregnant wife,” he drawls out, flipping the chip back in Grainger’s direction. It knocks over the rest of his carefully stacked chips as he watches me.
“You really think I’d knock you up and not support you? My mom would never look at me the same way again.” It’s one of the few times he’s ever mentioned his mother, and I’m intrigued. I want to know more, but now isn’t the best time. Later, when we’re alone. “So. You want to learn to play or what?”
“So long as you learn from the safety of my lap, I’ll teach ya,” Beast agrees, and I smile, leaning back against him and closing my eyes.
“I’m ready,” I tell him, and even though the night began in bloodshed and sex, it ends in car
ds and conversation.
That’s what being a Daybreaker is all about, after all.
So … fuck it. Murder, sex, and poker.
It’s a lifestyle.
The next morning, the men are summoned to church. Not the kind Reba likes, but the other sort. The private boys’ club that takes place in the building behind the main clubhouse. It’s where club business is carried out, and even after delivering the mafia queen’s head, I’m not privy to it.
“Keep this with you and stay inside with the doors locked,” Grainger says grimly, pushing my Magnum across the coffee table toward me. I’m sitting on the couch with Reba, Fem curled up between us. We’re drinking tea together since she doesn’t like coffee, and it’s pouring rain outside. Reba says rain calls for hot tea and contemplation.
So I’m contemplating.
I’m contemplating everything about last night. What it changes. What it doesn’t change.
I need to talk to Cat, but that’ll have to wait until later.
“You got it,” I agree as Grainger takes off, the last of the men to leave. He closes the door and I set my tea down, padding down the hall barefoot to lock it and then activate the alarm. When I come back to the couch and curl my legs up beneath me, tea mug in hand, I look over at Reba.
I know our time to say goodbye is coming.
I’m simultaneously ready for that … and dreading it. Because it means I’ll be alone here with my men. It means that I’ll be pressing play on a new phase in my life.
“They were all worried about you,” I say, referencing our ‘friends’ from the casino last night. Not the ones I killed, but the teenagers. I mean, my peers. They don’t feel like my peers though. I bet they’ve never beheaded someone with a meat cleaver. I sip my tea and pretend like Reba isn’t aware that I did something terrible last night. I didn’t tell her about any of it—obviously, I would never put her in danger by giving her those sorts of club secrets—but I did tell her that I ran into our classmates at a party.
“That’s nice to know,” she says with a distant, wistful smile. She’s been praying a lot lately. I’ve seen it, pausing in the doorway to the kitchen to find her bent over the table with her hands clasped together. The rapturous look she gets on her face when she talks to God looks an awful lot like the one I get when I’m making love to one of the guys.
Reba and I both understand passion and conviction on an intrinsic level, even if we experience those two things in entirely different ways.
“I’m sure they’re upset that I ditched them last night …” I start, grabbing my phone and checking for any tags or messages on social media. There are a few. Trevone asked if he could have my new number since I don’t seem to be answering my old one. Tina Flacco messaged me asking why I was using her name last night, wondering if I wasn’t up to something illegal and trying to blame her for it.
How annoying.
I delete it all. If I never see those people again, I don’t care. Not all relationships are meant to last forever. Some people are just ships passing in the night. But not my boys. Not Reba. Not Grey.
Grey.
I really should call him, but I need to do it without Reba in the room.
I set my phone down and look over at her. She sighs and stares into her mug before lifting her green gaze up to me.
“You don’t care though, do you?” she asks with a small laugh, shaking her head and sliding a single finger around the rim of her mug. “If I’m being honest, I don’t much care either. I want a clean break and a fresh start.”
My throat tightens up, and the urge to apologize sweeps over me again. I keep the words back because at this point, I’ve said it enough. If I keep apologizing over and over again, it’s only for my own comfort. Reba knows that while her connection to me is ultimately what brought the mafia to the Kellers’ doorstep, I’m not the one who pulled the blade across her parents’ throats. I can’t take full responsibility for everything the club and the mafia do, even if it feels like I should sometimes.
“I’m going to get you a ride to the convent today,” I tell her with a certain level of confidence that I have no right to feel. I pleased Cat last night, sure, but will he really let Reba go? If I send her off without letting him know, I’ll be breaking a direct order. If I have to do that, I will, but I’d rather not. “Do you know where it is?”
She nods.
“And you do know that the place Grey is sending you is loosely affiliated with the mafia, right?”
Another nod.
I exhale and lean my head back against the seat cushions, staring up at the ceiling.
“I know what sort of position I’m putting myself in,” Reba explains, watching me as I slide my gaze back to hers. We’re drinking Earl Grey tea, and I swear to God, it smells so much like my husband that my entire body aches with want to hold him.
I’ve become one of those people, the ones who are so disturbingly in love that they’re impossible to be around.
“Do you?” I ask, lifting my head up and noticing that Reba is pursing her lips at me. “What? I just want to make sure you don’t get yourself into a situation that you can’t get out of.”
“Grey needs me,” Reba says, reaching out to put her hand over one of mine. Fem licks her arm as she stretches it across him, and she smiles. “He needs guidance, Gidge. You might not believe in God, but he sure does. He’s strugglin’ with his faith. Besides, I’m not just some dumb Southern belle. I get what the two o’ you are tryin’ to do. I want to be there to guide him when he has more power than he knows what to do with.”
“This isn’t getting married and raising babies and teaching kindergarten,” I warn, but Reba gives me a look. She knows that. She also knows that I said I was leaving the club life behind and disappearing into the ether. Yet, I’m still here. Plans change. Dreams change. Guess we’re both going to get exactly what we want.
“I’ll be there for you, too, if you ever need spiritual guidance.”
I’m already shaking my head at her.
“No. Not if you’re working with the mafia. You and I will … well, we won’t talk about that sort of thing.” I don’t say what I really mean. That is, we won’t get to talk much. At least not in person. It’ll be hard to find a safe, comfortable place to meet—even if Grey’s plan works out.
And that’s a big if.
“I love you, Gidge,” Reba tells me instead, giving my hand a squeeze. “And I don’t regret anything about our friendship. Even if I could go back in time and walk away from you, I wouldn’t.”
“Don’t say that,” I choke, suddenly feeling the prick of tears that I still am not used to shedding. “I’ve ruined your life.”
“No. You changed the course of it.” She releases my hand and drinks her tea, staring at the quiet fireplace. I’m glad she doesn’t know that I got bent over that couch arm she’s leaning against and banged by four dudes last night. She’d hate that. “Life is never ruined. It just shifts. If you learn to follow the wind, you don’t have to fight against every storm.”
“Damn, that’s some wisdom,” I murmur, and she chuckles. “I love you, too, you know? But if I could go back to that first day of kindergarten, I would shove you hard and tell you I hated you, just to keep you safe from me and my influence. I’m not even sorry about that.”
Reba smiles, but she doesn’t look at me, still staring at the fireplace.
Fem grumbles and rolls onto his back, spreading his legs wide and begging for belly scratches. I tease the inside of his left leg with scritches of my nails until he’s kicking at the air in bliss.
“I’ve been calling him Fem-fem, Reba,” I say, trying to lighten the mood as I pretend to be scandalized by the idea. “You know that’s what Nellie’s always called him, and I’ve always hated it. I must be getting soft in my old age.”
That makes us both chuckle, chasing away the memories from last night.
Even if I don’t regret what I did, even if I’d do it again, it doesn’t mean I want every singl
e second of my life to be soaked in blood and violence. My ability to flip between extremes is a necessary adaptation to live this life. There’s no time to dwell on dark things because they’re happening constantly, everywhere, at all times.
“There are quite a few buses leaving today,” I say, giving Fem one, last scratch before curling both of my hands around my mug. “Families heading to the airport. I’ll put you on one, and you can transfer to a cab when you get there. I’ll give you money, too.” I snicker at that and lift a brow as she looks over at me. “I won a decent amount during our poker game last night; you can have that.”
“I don’t need much,” she says, getting that blissful, rapturous look on her face again. “Grey is going to take care of me. The process of becoming a nun isn’t like it is in the movies, you know? You can’t just walk into a convent and don a habit. It’s a whole thing.” She leans forward and sets her mug on the coffee table, but not before carefully placing a coaster beneath it. “The convent where I’m going is invite-only.”
“Joining the enemy team,” I tease, but not really. It’s sort of true. Also, it scares me. I assume Grey will give Reba a new identity to keep her off of his father’s radar. He isn’t sloppy; I know that. I can’t keep myself from obsessing over it anyway. “Once the guys are done with church, I’ll find Cat and we’ll work this out.”
I offer Fem a final pat before heading upstairs and locking myself in Crown’s room. I sit down on the edge of the bed and call Grey.
He answers immediately, shirtless and standing in a large bathroom with black marble everywhere. There’s even a chandelier that I most definitely don’t recognize. If he’s at the cathedral, then he’s been given a bathroom upgrade, that’s for damn sure.
The shower is running in the background, the air clouded with steam.
“Reba wants to go to the convent today,” I say, and Grey laughs. It’s a dark, twisted sound that makes my hackles raise. “Is that still okay? Have plans changed? I swear to God, if anything happens to her, I’ll break my vow to watch your back and I’ll stab it instead.”
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