For now, I feel like we’re relatively safe.
It won’t last, obviously. Nothing this nice ever does. Or at least, it requires sacrifice, and I feel like we haven’t made any big ones just yet.
“This is what I want to be doing,” I confirm, adjusting myself so that I’m situated in a small nest of blankets. If I seem calm, it’s all bullshit. Because I’m not. I’m not calm because Pamela took away my power over her. By killing herself, she’s removed my last chance at reaping justice for Penelope. Now, Pam is dead, and she’s no longer suffering, and the world just keeps on turning, as if it isn’t a tragic loss that the woman never really paid for her crimes.
I poke at my food for a while, glancing up only briefly to make sure that Oscar is eating. He is. He’s been eating a lot more lately, so much so that he’s put on a bit more muscle mass. It ripples in his arms when he dresses in a tank top for bed. It shows in the valleys of his abdominal muscles and the way his dress shirt stretches across his shoulders after he takes off his jacket and loosens his tie.
A ghost of a smile teases my lips before it falls away again.
“Get the whisky,” I command, and it’s Victor who grabs it, unscrewing the top and taking a huge swig before he passes it down the line. When it’s my turn, I drink as much as I can stand, choking at the fiery burn in my throat but loving the way it warms up my cold belly, stealing away just a fraction of that fear and pain. I take a second swallow before handing it over to Cal.
“You’re upset,” Victor says, and it isn’t a question. It’s just a fact and a command, one that demands I spill my feelings out to him because he’s a dark god whose presence won’t allow me to be numb for even a single second.
“Of course I’m upset,” I say, setting my food aside and then crawling forward on my hands and knees to fetch the whisky bottle again. I sit back with it in my lap and then take another chug, one that makes bubbles gurgle inside the bottle. “My mother killed my sister. My mother. The same person who birthed Penelope killed her.” I take another drink. The boys won’t let me get so drunk that I’ll have alcohol poisoning, but if I want to be plastered and stumbling, they’ll watch over me tonight. “And now I can’t even … I feel like she’s just slipped through my fingers forever.”
My face scrunches up as Oscar’s tightens in a rare show of sympathy.
“I know how you feel,” he says, surprising me. He isn’t one to offer up his emotions freely. “For years, I felt the same way about my own father. He took his life and left me with no recourse to punish him. In a way, you’re glad that person is dead and gone, because they ruined your life in ways that can never be fixed. In the same breath, you mourn. In the next breath, you rage.”
I just stare at him for a moment before setting the whisky bottle aside and crawling through the circle yet again. This time, I’m not searching for booze. This time, I’m finding the warm comfort of Oscar Montauk’s lap.
The incredible thing about it is that I’m the only person in the known universe who’s allowed to touch him like this, cuddle him and feel his long fingers tangling in my hair. He lets out a long sigh, and even though I know he would never ask for something I don’t want to give, his cock thickens beneath my cheek and I find myself rubbing against it.
“My list is done,” I say, and Oscar’s fingers pause for a moment before he strokes one down the length of my nose, traces my lips, memorizes me with the one sense he used to be most afraid of but which is the most powerful of all: touch. “It’s all done.”
“It’s done,” he agrees, stroking me as I close my eyes and I listen to the other boys pass the whisky bottle around the circle. “Sometimes, when you finish something so important, it feels both good and bad. You wish you were still working on it, but you’re relieved that it’s behind you.”
I roll onto my back and open my eyes, so that I can stare up at him. He very carefully reaches his fingers up to his loosened tie and begins to undo it. We’re going to have sex in this crumbling old house tonight. He knows it; I know it; I’m sure the rest of the Havoc Boys know it.
“Don’t let the last name on my list be so … anticlimactic,” I murmur, feeling my hands shake as I lift them to Oscar’s face. It was born in drama, right, that list? And so it has to go out with the same fashion, with a bang, with a spark that burns too bright and too hot to ignore.
“I promise,” Oscar murmurs, leaning over to kiss me, “that it will not be anticlimactic.”
His rapier of a mouth slices against mine, so sharp and so painful that I’m sure I’m bleeding, but yet, I can’t stop. I crave this pain because it matches my own, because it sings the same tunes and paints in the same colors.
Oscar’s tongue gives a hot swipe over mine before he pulls away, sitting up and undoing the buttons on his shirt as Aaron crawls over to me, moving between my legs to undo the black leather pants I’m wearing. They’re so tight that he has to peel them down the molded curves of my hips, past my pale silky thighs, and tug them from my feet.
The tattooed god above me tosses his tie aside, throws off his shirt. And then Aaron is flipping me over so that I can watch Oscar free his cock from his black slacks. With the tattooed, pierced length of him bobbing in front of my face, there’s nothing more I want to do than take him into my mouth.
His breath hisses out, almost like he’s pain, but he kneads my scalp with his fingertips in a very clear message: do not stop. At the same time, I feel warm hands encouraging me to put my ass in the air. When I heed that call and do as Aaron’s asked, I can feel his hot mouth taking my cunt, tongue slicking along my folds as I groan with my own lips pressed to Oscar’s cock.
He continues to knead my hair with his fingertips, encouraging me to continue what I’m doing as Aaron slips two fingers inside of me. He fucks me nice and slow with his hand while my head bobs up and down on Oscar’s dick.
Victor is the only one of the boys that I can see, and he stares down at me like he’s the ruler of this entire room, like this is a gift that only he could ever give me. I should be grateful to touch Oscar the way I do, to feel Aaron between my thighs. Because he’s the only one that could grant me the right to do that.
It feels like, with the way he’s looking at me, that if the other boys are gods then Victor is the king of the gods and we all belong to him. When Oscar flicks a slight glance in his direction, I can see it and I know: these boys belong to Vic just as much as they belong to me. The idea of that makes me sting with jealousy, but only for a split-second. Then it thrills me, it thrills me so much that I really and truly feel like part of a ruling pair.
As the queen, it’s my job to take care of these boys the way they need. So, as Victor strokes himself beside me, one hand leaning back to balance his big body as he reclines effortlessly on the floor, I continue to suck and lick and scrape with my teeth. Vic looks almost bored as he does it, stroke himself like that. Our eyes stay locked as I bring Oscar to climax inside my mouth, hot jets of cum teasing my tongue at the same moment that Aaron thrusts into me and I cry out.
I lift up onto my hands, panting and swallowing, and then Oscar takes my chin in his fingers and kisses me, cleaning my tongue and lips of his seed. Aaron holds my hips in a tight grip as he fucks me from behind, and I can’t help but risk a glance over my shoulder, just so I can see chestnut hair plastered to his sweaty forehead.
Fuck.
Letting my head drop, I push my hips back against him, meeting his thrusts with my own.
“Shit, screw this,” I hear Hael murmur, and then he’s approaching me, sitting down on the floor and letting me make the decision of whether or not to touch his cock. I do, dropping my mouth down on the tip and giving it a harsh suck as his hips thrust in response.
Aaron pulls out before he’s finished, and then I feel the hot, hot heat of his release on my back and ass. Holy shit, this is going to make a huge mess. But I love that. I love the idea of seeing the occasion marked in the smears of dust on the floor, the wet spatter of arousal. It turns
me on as I glance back and see Cal approach me.
He kneels down and guides the head of his cock to my cunt, sliding in nice and slow as I lick and suck frantically at Hael’s dick in response, flicking the piercing at the tip with my tongue as his hips rise up off of the floor.
Oscar, Aaron, and Victor are all pressed close, watching. Well, Oscar and Aaron are watching me specifically. Vic is watching all of us, his dark eyes taking in his pack of wolves, his dogs of war.
Vic waits for Hael to come in my mouth with a sharp, masculine cry, Hael’s hand fisting in my hair as he drives himself as deep into my throat as he can. When he’s finished, he slides back just enough that Cal and I have space to move, rocking into each other.
My body is quaking now, flushed with violent heat as Callum reaches around for my clit, slicking his thumb in circles around the hardened nub. Digging my fingernails into the floor, I move against him, drawing those velvety sounds from his throat, the ones that are both hard and soft, all at the same time. It’s as if the voice Cal would’ve had if he hadn’t been beaten so severely, and the voice he has now are intertwined, inextricably tied together.
He gives me my first orgasm of the night, a brief shuddering of muscles and a choking gasp that falls from my throat as I try and fail to stay upright, crashing forward into Hael’s lap as the last shocks of pleasure overtake me. Hael holds me there while Callum finishes inside of me, my silken inner muscles pulsing and bringing him to climax the way centuries of evolution have taught men to do.
Primal. Basic. Animalistic.
We are all of those things, but we’re also so much more. There is so much fucking more to the Havoc Boys and me. It’s inexplicable. Impossible to recreate. This is one of those once in a lifetime—once in a handful of lifetimes—moments.
Cal slumps back, and I sit up, and then Vic is beckoning me like I’m being summoned to his throne room. His dark gaze sweeps the other boys, reminding them that the reason they’re so confused when he says that I belong to him, is because they’ve forgotten that they, too, also belong to him.
His pack. His wolves. His Havoc.
Victor takes me in his arms and sweeps his big hand into my hair, crushing my mouth to his in a flurry of sparks and light and heat, like an electrical storm on a warm, summer night when lightning crashes and rain pours. It’s like, Vic is the incoming elemental impact I never knew I needed. A force of nature.
He adjusts his grip to my ass, taking both cheeks in his greedy fingers, and then he moves to impale me on that massive dick of his, sinking me down until we’re fully joined together. Our eyes lock, our breathing quickens. I don’t even have to move because Vic is more than happy to do the work, rocking my hips with his hands, bringing his pelvis up off the floor to thrust into me.
And then, as if in the midst of a miracle, Victor invites the remaining gods in his court to join us. He lies back on the floor with me on top of him, straddling his cock and rolling my hips in search of more please. More, more, more. It’s all I can think about right now.
Sweat streaks my curvy, inked body as Aaron presses up close behind me, slipping his fingers into my mouth and encouraging me to suck and lip and nibble before he moves them to my ass. He inserts one and then the other, letting out a ragged moan against the side of my throat that has me bucking and writhing atop Vic, my nails digging into his chest.
For his part, our king holds onto my hips, gripping me tight, claiming me even as he deigns to share me. Even as he deigns to share his boys. Because, let’s be honest, that’s what he’s doing: sharing them with me. They were his first. He wrangled them, claimed them, marked them, even before I was a part of any of it. Sure, I was the catalyst, but I wasn’t truly a member of Havoc until he set that fucking crown on the top of my bloodied head.
Aaron warms my opening with those two fingers, groaning against my ear and then biting it sharply enough that I cry out and my cunt locks around Vic, making him grunt. We’ve been here before, the three of us, with Vic’s and Aaron’s positions reversed. Still, the wonder and awe in Aaron’s voice catches me right in the heart, as if this is brand-new all over again. “I can feel him inside of you, Bernie,” Aaron whispers, and I’m reminded of Cal remarking on the same thing, about how he could feel his cock with his fingers. “I can feel him.”
“Do you hate it?” I whisper, the movements of my hips slowing momentarily, my gaze still on Victor’s. He can hear what we’re saying, every word of it. He waits patiently, a smirk building on his face as his purple-dark hair falls across his forehead and fans against the dusty old floorboards of a long-forgotten house. A house that’s going to be ours, that’s going to belong to us.
And not just me and Vic: all of us.
“No,” Aaron breathes, and then he’s pulling his fingers out of me and pressing his still-slick shaft against my opening. He places his hand’s over Victor’s, tangling their fingers together, holding me captive.
The first push of Aaron’s cock against that tight, little opening is almost too much. My nails dig even harder into Vic’s chest, drawing blood, marking him. Because he is king, but I am queen. There is only one person in the universe that this alpha male will consent to belonging to and that person is me.
Aaron pushes a little harder, a little deeper, and this time, it’s Vic who lets out a ragged sounding groan.
“Fuck,” he chokes out, reminding me of our threesome in the master bedroom. It feels like when I’ve got Vic and Aaron at the same time, like they’re two halves of the same whole and they can only exist in relation to one another. Even as much as they despise each other sometimes, they love each other in greater measures. Always. “Fuck, that’s good.”
With another slow, savage movement of his hips, Aaron slides the rest of the way into me. If I thought I couldn’t breathe before, with Callum inside of me, then I really can’t breathe now. I’m stretched to the maximum, completely full of Havoc and yet, somehow, desperate for more.
“Callum,” Victor commands, and he doesn’t have to say anything more than that. Somehow, Cal knows exactly what his boss wants. He ends up in front of me, his feet on either side of Vic’s head. My eyes lift up to find Cal’s sapphire ones staring down at me. His prince-turned-villain mouth tilts up at the edges as he reaches out for my hand, and I give it to him, letting him curl my fingers around the base of his cock.
He doesn’t stop there, taking a gentle handful of my hair and pulling me forward so that my mouth engulfs his tip. With a sigh of agonized relief, Cal pumps his hips, filling my mouth and sliding his velvety length against my tongue.
“Oscar.”
That next command from Vic’s menace of a mouth is no less potent for being underneath Cal’s naked body or pressed right up against Aaron’s inside of me. He doesn’t care. He isn’t ashamed.
Our resident thespian kneels on my left side, his inked body nude, his cock thick and ready again despite having come so recently. They’re insatiable, my monsters. Oscar puts my hand on his cock and encourages me to pump him by tangling his fingers with my own. He controls the pace and the speed and the firmness of my grip.
“Hael.”
This command comes last, and with the slightest breath of apology, like Victor is trying to say something with actions that he struggled to say with words. Join us. I’m sorry that I kicked you out. You belong to me, too. We are more than just friends; we are and always will be family.
Hael mimics Oscar’s pose on my right side, taking my hand and putting it where it needs to go, begging me to squeeze and stroke and pleasure.
Fuck. Me.
For the briefest of moments, we’re just all tangled together and I’m touching and loving and feeling all my boys at once. His task completed, Victor redoubles his efforts, thrusting up and into me, making both me and Aaron cry out as he essentially fucks the both of us with his movements.
My clit swells and aches, and then Hael is reaching out and teasing it for me while I continue to stroke him, making my body shudder and quiver
with the desperate need for climax. It happens quickly, and I’m left shaking and boneless, my muscles going taut as violent, savage pleasure tears through me.
The boys don’t let me stop though, using my cunt and my ass, working my mouth, keeping my fingers on their cocks. Callum comes first, fisting my hair in his hand, letting his pretty head fall back, blond hair painted gold by the candlelight. Flicking my eyes up, I can see all his tattoos, all his scars, that freshly healed pink slash on the front of his throat.
He shudders and fills my mouth with his seed before stumbling back a single step and crashing to his knees on the floor. He winces at the pain in his knees, but that doesn’t do a damn thing to take the lustful satisfaction and wonder out of his eyes. He’s too used to pain, too used to being held and coddled and kept by it. It’s just a part of him, a part of all of us, and it has become the ties that bind.
“Shit,” Cal murmurs, his breathing ragged, his blue eyes locked with mine as Aaron powers into me, joining his thrusts with Victor’s. When Aaron finally comes, it’s with a ragged cry and then a sharp bite on the side of my throat that has me buckling and struggling against another climax. I’m not sure how many I can take; my body already feels like it’s falling apart. Yet … I’m still not done.
I finished my list.
I have my boys.
I want more.
Royalty loves to feast, right?
Aaron collapses, lying beside Oscar with his head pillowed on his hands, panting, watching. That’s when Oscar finishes, shuddering and squeezing my fist against his inked length, spilling his cum against my skin in hot, white ropes. As he’s doing that, Hael moves around behind me, and I can tell by the way Victor is looking up and past me that he’s staring at his friend.
Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys Book 5) Page 35