by Ace Gray
“Now for you two, you’re both getting tasks.”
“I’ll help Siobhan,” I spat out even though the words made my jaw ache.
“You’ll help her right off a cliff is how you’ll help her.” He laughed as he said it.
“Well…” I growled. Picturing Siobhan plummet to her death was every bit as easy as picturing putting Mickey in his grave.
“I know you want to prove that you didn’t squawk to your little lass but I don’t know that I believe you yet.” He used his grip on my neck to pull me back toward him, pressing the gun to my temple this time.
“I’m not dead, which means you believe me.” I turned in his grip and pressed my forehead to the empty barrel.
I didn’t pull away as I dug for my phone. When I fished it from my back pocket, I threw it on Mick’s lap.
“Check it. The code is forty-forty.”
He pulled the gun from my forehead and dropped his hold on me. Mercifully the metal clank and scrape against the armrest covered the whimper that escaped my lips when I slumped back into my chair.
“There are messages from her on here.”
“From her. Not me.” I added through gritted teeth still trying to find a semi-comfortable position.
“There’s one. Right up here by this video.”
Shit!
The video of Elle smiling at me was enough to get me off, so I’d forgotten about scrolling up to the one that had originally hooked me. I could spring across the chair—well, as much as my rickety body would let me—and keep that piece of her secret or I could sit still and keep her secret.
“Oh this is good, Cole. No wonder she’s so far under your skin. She has a lovely little cunny.”
I bit down on my cheek so hard, the metallic salt of blood pooled into my mouth.
“Little Elle Leroux and her perfect French kitten,” he murmured as he rewound the video.
Bile rose in my throat as it had every single time I thought of Mickey getting his hands on her. I choked down the burning acid mixed with the warm salt of my blood and rooted my hands in clenched fists at my side.
“Is that cum on her thighs?” he asked, excitement coloring his words.
I was too busy playing rigid statue to answer. If I moved, spoke—hell, if I breathed—I was going to snap.
“Cole, answer me.” He flung a hand into my side, jabbing the hot poker already digging into me and pushing it further.
I cried out for a brief second then snapped my mouth shut. Horse’s eyes were molten behind Mick when I turned in their direction.
“Yeah,” I grunted.
“Tell me. Tell me about being inside her.” He was replaying the video again.
Horse swallowed a lump as big, if not bigger, than the one blocking my throat. When I hesitated, he jerked his chin, urging me to start talking. When my lips thinned further his face changed, I recognized it from bed this afternoon, he was begging me. And with every fiber of his being.
God in heaven, forgive me. Not for my sins, but for what I’m about to do Elle.
“She’s tight.” I managed, my throat constricted to the size of a pin. “But she’s warm and velvety. Her hips buck wildly.” I tried to swallow again but couldn’t. “She tastes like cherries and smells like expensive vanilla. The only thing she swallows better than dick is cum.”
“Have you had her ass?” Mick had started leisurely stroking himself over top of his jeans.
“Yeah. She screams when you push in.” I tried to detach myself from the memories, telling myself this was a story about a chick and nothing more. I had to pretend it wasn’t the most intimate details of the woman I needed more than air.
“I don’t know if I want her or to watch you with her more.” He unzipped his fly and started stroking himself in time with Elle’s tiny flicks on the screen.
I couldn’t find words. And it wasn’t just because I was busy swallowing the vomit in my mouth. No matter what Mick did or said, I couldn’t put her up on a platter any more than I already had.
I should have let him kill me.
Mick was too busy to make me continue, transfixed on the screen and the way he’d lined up his erection with her folds. He murmured cherries and cum from time to time, but otherwise, the room was silent while Mick masturbated to my girl on a throne above a dead body.
I turned and wretched on the floor, unable to choke it back anymore. In the smallest miracle the darkest corner of the globe ever saw, it was blood red. Whether it was the chunk I’d taken out of my cheek or the severity of my injuries, blood was acceptable. It wasn’t a sign that Mick was dissolving my soul with the acid of his actions.
“Horse, get Cole home. I think he’s had enough for one night.” Mick didn’t even falter with his strong, choking strokes on his cock. “I’ll keep this for now. I’ll give it back when you two find Jimmy Ponies.” His voice was getting husky, breathy and I wanted to vomit all over again.
Before I could decide whether or not to add to the blood on the floor, Horse was in front of me.
“Get up,” he whispered as low as possible.
I tried but almost instantly wobbled back into the chair.
“Cole, get the fuck up now.” Horse was sharper and a little louder but his plea was covered by the sexual moans pouring from Mickey’s lips.
My stomach revolted again, knowing that he was still jerking off to her, still mumbling words about her.
Horse didn’t wait for me to pull it together, or for me to push up on my own. He yanked on my shoulder and pulled me up from the chair. I cried out in agony.
“Ah yes!” Mickey called out too, no doubt egged on by the blatant pain in my voice.
Horse pulled hard on me, harder than I wanted, but my feet weren’t really working anymore. When my body almost slipped from his grip, he threw my arm over his shoulder and wrapped his around me. There was nothing gentle about his grip, there was nothing subtle about my painful cries.
He dragged me around the corpse and my limp toes tracked blood from the puddle. I watched the track up until I made the mistake of looking up. Mick was mid-orgasm, cum shooting from the tip of a red, angry dick and onto my phone. Onto my Elle.
19.
Elle
Cole’s apartment was home to four classic movies, two architectural posters and a nightlight that looked like a butt plug. He had three pairs of high top Chuck Taylors, a pair of Doc Martins and two sets of Adidas soccer cleats. His sheets were a high thread count cotton and his Thai leftovers were two weeks old.
Absolutely none of my snooping made me feel better about Hurricane Cole decimating my insides. Thinking about Horse, giant, King Kong Horse full of unyielding love, having Cole’s back was the only reason I’d been able to get off the floor at all.
I debated curling back up in a ball while I tried to catch my breath every few minutes or so. They’d just been gone so long. Nothing good could come from that much distance, the deafening silence. Just as I was about to surrender to my panic a rough knock pounded against the door.
“Fucktart,” the voice boomed from the hallway. “Elle, let us in.” The begging was familiar but desperate, I couldn't quite place it.
“Ladyface, please.” That voice I knew and it had my springing up from the couch so fast I crashed into the coffee table and swore.
“Ya all right, Fucktart?” The protectiveness in that voice made it instantly recognizable.
“Horse?” I asked quietly, still hesitant on the other side of the door after the warning he’d issued.
“It’s me, Elle, and I’ve got my hands full. I can’t get the keys.”
“It’s okay, Ladyface,” Cole said softly, trying to soothe me but something was off in his voice.
I whipped open the door only to find exactly what Horse’s hands were full of—Cole.
“Oh my God. What happened?” I stepped out of the way to make room for them as Horse dragged a limp and bloodied body into the loft.
“Mick knows you’re not in Seattle,” Horse said s
imply as he gently laid Cole down in bed. It took all of thirty seconds for Cole to pass out.
“He already knows I’m here?” My insides bottomed out.
“If he knew you were in this apartment, Cole would be a corpse.”
My breath caught in my throat. Sure I got the idea that Mickey Maloney was dangerous. I knew he was a killer first hand. But I’d never seen it. Seeing it, seeing Cole wearing it was gonna make me puke.
“Is he…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
“The vet couldn’t find any internal bleeding, but we have to keep an eye on him. If that bruise on his back goes bluish rather than red or purple, we have to get him to the ER.” He blew out a deep breath and his brow creased as his gaze swept over Cole where he breathed soft, shallow breaths on the bed.
“Is the vet some mob doctor or something?” I asked, equally transfixed by Cole’s labored breaths.
“No, he’s a vet that owes me a favor.” Horse bent down and started unlacing Cole’s hightops.
“You took him to a vet?” I screeched and Cole stirred, weakly reaching out for me.
“Yes. Doctors ask too many questions and the guy could ultrasound the area, see some of what’s up. He has pain meds.”
Horse let Cole’s shoes fall to the ground before starting in on his pants. Cole hadn’t put on boxers before leaving the house and his tattoos peeked out as Horse’s big hands pulled down the denim.
“What can I do?” I asked, stomaching some of the shock.
“Grab some ice from the freezer. If he’s got enough to make two packs that would be great.”
I inched away from the bed, hesitant to walk away from Cole, worried the light may snuff out of those green eyes at any moment. But the direction Horse had given me was good. The fact that I’d rifled through drawers this afternoon was better. I filled a Ziploc bag with ice and grabbed the edamame sitting next to the trays.
When I turned back toward the bed, Horse was sitting with his back to me as he tucked the edges of the comforter around Cole. His hand moved up Cole’s body and hovered above his face, poised to cradle it, but he didn’t. Instead his hand trembled the slightest bit before he balled it and let it flop down to the mattress.
“Is it hard for you?” I asked quietly as I handed the ice over.
“To watch him get pummeled? Fuck yeah,” he said roughly, letting loose a little bit of the anger that he’d likely swallowed.
“That’s not what I meant.” I managed a weak smile for him as I rounded the bed to sit opposite him.
“You mean being on this side of the comforter?” Any hint of anger faded and his fingertips inched toward where Cole’s were hidden under the soft blanket. I nodded as I captured my lip between my teeth. “You make it easier,” he sighed and his hand inched back.
“How so?”
“Hope, Fucktart.” Horse looked up at me with a forlorn smile. “The way he looks at you is hope personified. Like maybe he’s found something worth living for. Gives me hope I still might.”
My heart whomped in my chest and my throat went dry. I wanted to lie down and press my body to Cole’s, to feel the dips and grooves lock into place with mine as if they were always meant to match. I wanted to whisper that he was my hope, too.
“Why do you call me Fucktart?” I scrunched up my nose and made a funny face, hoping it would lighten the mood between us.
I was rewarded with Horse’s warm laugh, rich and thick like caramel.
“Because Poptarts are tasty enough to fuck. Just like you.”
“What?” I squeaked before digressing into giggles.
“Oh yeah.” His big smile overtook his entire face. “The cherry kind, with their bright pink frosting and little red sprinkles.” He licked his lips, letting his eyes roll back in his head as he did.
“I taste like a fucking toaster pastry?” Laughter shook my shoulders, I just couldn’t stop it.
“You fuck like the first time you taste a toaster pastry too.”
I busted up, slapping my knee and everything. I couldn’t help it. Horse laughed along for a minute then reached over top of Cole. He righted me by grabbing behind my neck then pulled my lips towards his.
“You brought him back to me, Fucktart. You and sick, twisted fate.” He was so close, his pout brushed against mine. “Thank you.”
He barely finished the words before he kissed me. It was gentler than I expected, and more passionate too. His lips tumbled over mine, making sure every inch was well loved. He only tentatively poked his tongue into my mouth, grazing rather than tangling with mine.
Cole groaned between us and I automatically pulled away. I expected Horse to do the same but he used his grip to guide my lips back to his.
“Thank you.” He kissed the corner of my mouth. “Thank you.” Then the other. “Thank you.” And finished with a soft, sweet kiss on my lips.
When he pulled back he looked down at Cole, his eyes sweeping down his body then back up to his face.
“One of these packs stays on his jaw. The other down above his hip but below his ribs, okay?”
I nodded as my fingers came up to my lips where they were haunted by the ghost of Horse’s. His big, beautiful charming smile spread like wildfire again.
“Keep a sheet or a thin towel between the ice and his skin and do twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off.”
“Are you leaving?”
His absence felt a little like the sun was slipping behind the clouds.
“Somebody’s gotta feed you. I haven’t looked but I guarantee this motherfucker has nothing besides gross leftovers.”
I shook my head with a small smile.
“Some things never change.” He rolled his eyes as he stood. “Anything you’re in the mood for?”
“I feel like we should eat Poptarts.” I couldn’t hold in a light chuckle.
This one stirred Cole again, his hand shoving against the blanket towards me. When he whimpered in frustration, I caught it and stilled it against the mattress.
“Take care of him,” Horse said softly, his gaze falling to where my hands cupped Cole’s.
The tone and the hint of wetness dancing in the corners of his eye gave me the feeling that he was talking about more than just tonight.
“Don’t you fucking touch her, Mick.” Cole’s voice was sleep laced but it made my blood run cold. “I’ll rip your fingers off myself.”
I was curious what he’d tell me in his sleep but when he started trashing against the covers, I shoved a bookmark into the book I’d picked up and ran over to him.
“Cole,” I said softly, hoping to wake him but not startle him. “Cole,” I coaxed as I folded onto the bed next to him. Whatever had happened, wasn’t good.
“She’s mine,” he snarled and it sent shivers up and down my spine both for how possessive and how furious he was. He was every bit as terrified as Horse had been and I could guess why. I tried to swallow and couldn’t as I went to wake him.
“Cole,” I said sharply, not wanting to have to shake his damaged body.
“Ladyface?” he asked, more groggy than anything.
“Hi there.” I couldn’t help but smile down at him.
“Hi.” He let out a deep breath then his smile spread to match mine. “How did I get here? I remember Horse getting me out, a few blocks in the car then nothing.”
“So you don’t remember your trip to the vet?” I cocked my head and my eyebrow.
Cole started to laugh only to digress into a haggard moan. My hands shot out for him before I realized I had no idea where to grab to comfort him. They fell back to my lap.
“Some things never change,” Cole wheezed.
“I’ve heard that before.”
Horse’s voice was easy to hear saying the same words even though he’d been gone for an hour.
“He’s always been afraid of the doctor. Dr. Baker has been stitching him up since we were kids.”
I couldn’t hold back the smile at the thought of hulking Horse afraid of the doctor. Fo
r some reason, I pictured him with a lollipop, shoved into the tiny chairs of a vet’s waiting room and started laughing all over again.
“God is that the best sound on earth or what?” He closed his eyes with a wide contented smile across his face.
“You breathing is better,” I said shyly; his smile grew.
“It takes more than this to get me down, Ladyface.”
He shifted and winced then started to sit up only to cry out.
“Cole, what are you doing?” Panic laced my voice as my hands shot out to his shoulders.
“Getting up,” he groaned again and pressed against the palm of my hands.
“Like hell!” My voice was almost as distraught as his. “Whatever you need, I’ll get it. I’ll do it for you.”
“I have to take a piss. And, Ladyface, there’s a hell of a lot of things you can do to my dick, and with my dick, and even for my dick, but that’s not one of them.” He chuckled but it was breathy and laced with pain.
“Fine. At least let me help you up.”
“Elle.” He rolled his eyes but relaxed against my hands.
“I thought so.” I raised both my eyebrows then cupped my hands over the top of his shoulders. “Count to three.”
He did as I asked and on three he pushed up while I pulled as best I could. The whimpers that crossed his lips tugged at my heart and my fingers curled into him far harder than I intended. Not even the covers falling away from his naked body distracted my hold.
“I knew you were a little kinky…” he gasped. “But taking advantage of me while I’m out cold is a bit much.” He smiled as he looked down his bare flesh then up at me from under his golden lashes.
“Dream on. Horse stripped you down.”
“Any excuse that man can get to check me out.” He burst out laughing again, only to damn near crumple in my arms. I did what I could to catch him and keep him upright. I couldn’t help but yelp at the idea of him hitting the floor.
“Knock it off, love.” I wedged myself under his shoulder and gently wrapped around his torso, mindful of the spot Horse had shown me that was a decidedly angry swollen bruise. We managed a few wobbly steps when he stopped.