“I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want. You rebelled and almost got yourself killed. If you think I’m not pissed, it’s only because I know how to control my temper. You would not want to be present if I truly had a blow-up.” He laughs at me and stands up again, the mask he’s wearing one I haven’t seen before. It covers the top half of his face, made of black glitter and brittle bones that might very well be real. “I didn’t want to do this with the stitches still in, but if you’re well-enough to ride dick then you’re well-enough to say sorry for what you did. Turn over and show me your ass, Bernadette.”
I look down the line of men as one of them cocks his head at me. Callum. He studies me from behind his mask, limned in low light and impossible to read. Oscar mirrors his position on Victor’s other side, his chest, arms, and hands so covered with ink that it’s impossible to find even a square inch of bare skin. Hael and Aaron are at the end on either side, one of them sporting cuffs, the other with a bit of danger etched into his smirking smile.
He’s pissed at me, Hael is.
I wet my lips.
My initial reaction is to put up a fight. But why? Victor is right: I fucked up. I chased after Kali and nearly got myself killed. I do deserve to be punished. So why does this feel more like a dark dream come true than a nightmare?
“You were made to be a whore, that’s why,” Kali’s ghost says, and I ignore her. At least the weed didn’t make her apparition any worse though I was hoping she’d go the fuck away. I can’t be seeing shit; I have to tell somebody about this if it doesn’t stop soon.
I close my eyes for a minute against the sight of them, five boys dripping ink and hiding behind what’s very quickly become a symbol of our gang: the grinning maw of a boney face.
When I open my eyes, they’re all still staring at me.
“Jesus H. Christ,” I murmur, and Hael’s harsh laugh makes me shiver.
“Jesus can’t save you now, baby,” he purrs as I turn over, swinging my hair over one shoulder so that it hangs down beside my face. I’m staring down at the sheets and panting when I feel the mattress dip with somebody else’s movement.
It’s Victor. I know that before he even touches me. And it’s not just that musky smell of his, it’s something else. An aura. A sensation. A ripple in the universe that only I can feel. That’s how it is with soul mates, you know—even miscreants, knaves, and savages. That is, the Havoc Boys in a nutshell.
“Next time I tell you what to do,” Victor says, and I hear the sound of his belt sliding from his jeans. “You’ll do it, won’t you?” The leather slithers across my ass as he folds it in half and then grips the metal end. Vic cracks the belt against my bottom, and I gasp, my nails digging into the mattress. It stings like hell. Shit, it almost hurts. But then … Victor’s warm hand smooths over my aching skin and that gasp of pain becomes a whimper of pleasure.
There are rules, even in a family. One of them is, you disobey Victor and you’re punished for it. Guess my price is pride, and really, that’s a small price to pay.
At least now I know for sure: hiring Havoc was the only way I could ever be whole. Because I’m in love in a strange and endless sort of way. That, and I was never capable of hurting the people that hurt me. Not by myself.
See, I told you, tonight was all about punishment.
Tonight … is not the same as the last time he spanked me. Last time, he was warning me. Actually, he was being nice. “I'm preparing you. It's a service I don't offer most of my clients. Be grateful, Bernadette.” That’s what Victor told me when we were sitting in his front yard, right before I kissed him to seal the deal.
A kiss.
Hah.
And now we’ve come to this, yet another moment that he did his best to prepare me for.
The belt makes contact with my ass again, and I drop my upper body into the pillows, biting down on one to keep at least some of my dignity intact. It’s not supposed to feel so good, is it? I told Aaron that I only liked it when he spanked me, but … maybe that was a lie?
Vic’s fingers dig into the hair at the back of my skull and he pulls my head up, forcing me to remain on my hands and knees.
“Take it like a queen, Bernie,” he growls, and then he hits me with the belt for a third time. Victor releases my hair, but I stay where I am, anticipating the next sharp crack of leather on bare flesh, the sting that follows, and the warm pleasure that radiates out from each spot Vic chooses to rest his inked fingers. He caresses my ass after each smack, like he can’t help but be my boss and my husband at the same time.
He takes his sweet time as my body throbs in response to the belt, to his nearness, to the orgasm I just got done having with the vibrator. My blood is hot and lazy and slow, laced with marijuana, and it makes everything feel amazing.
“One for each member of Havoc,” Vic explains as I look back and find them all exactly where I left them, watching me from behind their masks. Victor spanks me again, and I adjust myself, like I think he’s done. One spanking for each letter in the acronym. Only … there’s still one person that’s owed their pound of flesh, and that’s me.
Yep, the very last spanking is in honor of me.
Victor whips the belt forward, and I scream as it hits me, but not out of pain.
None of this is painful.
Vic tosses the belt aside as I let out a low, sensual laugh.
“What are you planning on doing now?” I ask, and my husband pauses, tapping his fingers against both of my hip bones.
“That all depends on you, I suppose,” he tells me in that dreadfully calm voice of his, the one that could—no, already does—command literal armies. That other gang … the GMP … they wouldn’t be looking into Havoc if there wasn’t something to Victor’s leadership. “You wanted five men, and you’ve been given them.”
I say nothing, and Vic’s hands tighten on my hips, making me groan.
“Do it,” I whisper, voice breathy and stretched-thin, like I might very well shatter if they leave me here. “Fuck me.”
Victor pauses for a moment, and then I hear the sound of his jeans being unzipped. When he presses the head of his cock against me, my body shudders involuntarily.
I think about Scarlett Force then, that race car driver from a few years back, the one with the three boyfriends. She was caught once, having an orgy in the girls’ locker room with them.
This isn’t the locker room, but …
Victor thrusts fully into me with a single stroke, grabbing onto my hair for leverage. With the other hand, he holds my hip, keeping us pressed together for a moment so I can feel every inch of him like I’m being branded by the shape of his cock.
“Why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?” he grinds out, a bit of that easy control slipping. I seem to have that effect on him. “I give you a simple goddamn order and you try to get yourself killed.”
“Must be in my blood,” I purr, glancing back at him. “Or maybe that’s why I hired you? To save me from myself?”
“Must be,” Vic bites, and then he starts to move, pulling on my hair and causing my back to arch. I put one hand up against the headboard as he rides me, the bed creaking ever so slightly with our movements. He’s brutal about it, too, filling me up completely before drawing back. When he pushes forward, I can feel him hit the end of me, and I bite my lip.
My body is practically liquid now, heated and desperate, wanting.
Vic fucks me as hard and fast as he damn well pleases, knowing that an orgasm is practically inevitable with four more Havoc Boys waiting at the end of the bed. Either that, or he just doesn’t care because he’s mad at me and wants me to suffer.
I notice that he’s careful to keep his hand away from my bandage though, and that he doesn’t put any weight on my body. He’s as aware of that wound in my side as he is of my body wrapped around his.
Fucked by my dark gods, claimed by their inked hands, my soul destroyed.
Even in the throes of ecstasy, I start making up poems i
n my head. That’s how much a part of me writing is, and I didn’t even know it. I didn’t fucking know it until now. With a groan, I squeeze my hands into fists, pushing my hips back into Victor.
He comes with a few violent thrusts, spilling himself into me and then pulling away abruptly. I’m left panting on my hands and knees as he drapes his body into the stupid pillow mountain, eyes like black coals in the dark. He doesn’t even bother taking off his mask.
“Hael,” Victor says with a snap of his fingers. The look Vic gives me, barely visible in what little light the TV gives off, is still harsh, as if he didn’t just have an orgasm inside of me.
“You really pissed me off, Blackbird,” Hael says, the warmth of his hands making me shiver as he slides them from my hips to the curve of my waist. “Running off into the woods like that.”
“You should apologize to Hael,” Victor agrees, surprising me. But in a good way. Like, it’s nice to know that I haven’t fractured the beautiful brotherhood that makes Havoc so special. Not yet anyway. At least right now, Vic can still be on Hael’s side when he needs to. “You could’ve gotten him killed, too.”
And he’s right. They’re both right.
“I’m sorry, Hael,” I whisper, moaning as Hael’s hands sweep my body with ravenous intent. He rests one palm on the bed, using the other to massage my right breast. When his fingers pinch my nipple, I lift my ass up toward him. Last time, I ran away before the boys’ hungry gazes could sweep over and consume me. Tonight, I’m not going anywhere.
“And then one more, just for me. How about: I’m sorry, sir,” Victor says as Hael presses his hot mouth against the side of my neck. He moves his hand from my breast to his pants, shoving them down so that the tip of his cock brushes against that aching storm between my thighs.
Normally, I wouldn’t even think about saying something so goddamn stupid. But … I did fuck up. Badly. That, and I like how dominant Vic is, even if I don’t always want to be dominated.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I whisper huskily, and then Hael is driving his hips forward, his cock filling me so completely that I can feel the piercing at the tip. He isn’t all that nice about it, using my body for his own pleasure. He really is pissed at me, isn’t he? Or scared, maybe. That could be it, too.
Either way, he fucks my pussy with reckless abandon, taking what he wants while Vic watches, lounging lazily in the pillows and lighting up a joint. The cherry crackles in the dark, smoke wafting lazily through the room and enveloping us all in its strange spell.
“Holy shit, Blackbird,” Hael murmurs appreciatively, hips still rocking rhythmically against my ass. I wonder if he isn’t remembering what we did in the Camaro that day behind the school. I know that I am, pushing my body back to meet his thrusts, so that our bodies come together with a wet slap.
Hael yanks me back against him, finishing himself with a ragged groan and then stroking his fingers up my back like he’s petting me. He doesn’t say anything as I glance back at him; he’s nothing but a shadowy figure in a mask right now, at least to my eyes. The rest of me knows exactly who he is, with that sweet coconut oil smell and those soft, soft hands.
Victor encourages Hael to move back with a lazy flick of his fingers. My ass is smarting, body wet with sweat and desperate for more. Hael smiles at me, his teeth white in the dark, but the expression is a bit macabre with the mask and the strange lighting.
There’s a tense moment there where I’m afraid that Vic might ask Hael to leave.
When he doesn’t, I breathe easy as Hael takes up a position on my other side.
“Oscar.”
That next name, falling from Victor’s mouth like a hot ember, makes me go completely still. I look back at the headboard, instead of at the lithe, inked monster crawling onto the bed behind me. The last two times we fucked—the only two times we fucked—he left me. Abandoned me. Ruined me.
I bite my lip.
Oscar trails his long fingers down my spine as I shiver.
“What’s the matter, Bernadette?” he asks, his voice like cognac, his pain hidden beneath a smooth exterior and a layer of ink. The son of a serial killer. That’s what he said, dropped that information in my lap and then fled the room like always. If he leaves tonight, I won’t forgive him again.
We say nothing to one another as he curves those long, pretty fingers of his around my hip, nails digging into my flesh just hard enough to hurt. He’s good at that, though, Oscar is. He can find the line between pleasure and pain and straddle it like he could command either side at will. His control seems limitless, but it’s not. It most definitely is not. I’ve seen him break. I’ve seen him shoot a man in the head. I just want to see him soften, if only for a split-second, if only for me.
I risk looking back again, finding Oscar’s long, lean body silhouetted against the TV screen. He’s almost startling to look at, seeing as he’s always buttoned-down tight in his suits. Right now, he seems unfettered, unchained, a piece of taboo meant only for me.
I can’t bear to look at him as he enters me, so I don’t. Instead, I glance over at Vic. He hasn’t moved, slouched against the pillows like a slothful king, an elbow propped on a bent knee, dark eyes glittering. He looks like an animal that’s lying in wait in the grass, using every ounce of patience they possess to keep from pouncing until the prey is close enough to kill with a single bite.
I close my eyes and let my head hang, anticipating the feel of Oscar’s fingers on my throat. He doesn’t disappoint, wrapping them around my neck and encouraging me to arch my back. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to do this again, after Kali. But, I guess, like Aaron, I’m a glutton for punishment. As Oscar gives me a carefully calculated squeeze, a gasp of pleasure slips past my parted lips.
With his other hand, he guides himself into me, his piercings hitting different places than Hael’s did. My body loves it, too, and I find myself moaning and rocking with him, lifting my ass up so that his balls hit my clit with each forward movement.
The orgasm surprises both of us, I think, taking over me as I grab the headboard for support, exhilaration and euphoria pouring through me in equal measures. I’m being terrible tonight, wanton and sinful, and I love it. I love being bad. And I’m not ashamed.
“Liar,” Kali’s voice whispers in my head, but I ignore her. Oscar pauses only so long as it takes me to recover my breath, sliding his cock all the way in, and then all the way back out. Long, slow strokes. He kills me with those movements, granting my aching body exactly what it wants and taking it away again.
When his fingers twitch just a tad too tight, I know that he’s about to break. He starts to fuck me furiously then, driving me into the mattress as he holds onto my throat. His thumb teases my lower lip as he comes, adding to the mess we’re already making of this bed.
He stays where is for a few, precious, quiet seconds, and then moves to leave.
Just like I knew he would.
Vic lifts a single brow in my direction. It’s the only part of him that moves other than his smile, and that level of self-control, fuck, it’s miraculous to behold. It’s like he’s asking me how the fuck I’m going to wrangle this man that I’ve loved since he made me a paper dress in elementary school.
A man that I truly and utterly know nothing about.
I don’t know about the serial killer thing, and I don’t understand why his hair is blond at the roots but dyed black. I didn’t know about the foster home or his proclivity for knots. None of it. Because he kept his life carefully orchestrated and hidden away from me.
“Don’t,” I growl out and Oscar pauses, looking back at me with a sharpness to the set of his mouth that scares me. I might be naked and prone on the bed, and I might’ve bitched out when it came to finishing Kali off, but there are some things I’m serious about. “You ran once, twice, and I forgave you. Do not do it again.”
“I could hogtie him for you,” Cal suggests, but I think he’s only half joking to be honest. Part of me wonders if he really would try. And then who
would win? Every time I think I have the guys figured out, they surprise me. Cal versus Oscar? God, it’d be a bloodbath. If it were a fair fight, I imagine Callum would win. But when in life is anything ever ‘fair’? The world is cutthroat, so it’s quite possible that Oscar could surprise Cal somehow.
I’m just glad I don’t ever have to see that scenario come to life.
“Callum Park, kindly the shut the fuck up,” Oscar says, but he stays where he is, one hand on the doorknob. His fingers tap it lightly. “Tell me why,” he begins, turning back around to look at me. It’s hard to see past the mask to what he might be feeling underneath, but at least the question is easy enough to answer. “Tell me why you want me, and I’ll stay.”
“Because,” I whisper, keeping my attention on him, even as my body quivers and I wonder how much longer I’ll be able to stay on all fours before I collapse into a boneless heap. “I’ve loved you since we were in elementary school.”
Slowly, almost cautiously, Oscar makes his way over to the chair in the corner and folds his long body into it. It’s not as close as I’d like him to be, but it’s something. He’s such a hard-ass, but I know—I just know—that underneath it all, there’s something special for me to find. Maybe I’ll be the only person in the world who gets to see it, but it’s there.
I just have to dig it out, past all the bullshit and the bad memories and the pain.
What I don’t know about Oscar, but that I’ll find out later, is that he checks on the girls at night for me. Heather will always remember the glare of the moon on his glasses and smile. That’s the kind of person he is, even if he won’t let anyone else know about it.
“He warned you first,” Callum says, giving a dark chuckle as Vic beckons him forward. He leans over me, and I spread my legs wider, wanting him so badly it hurts. “Did you hear that? He was nice enough to issue a warning.” He shakes his head briefly and sighs against my shoulder. I can practically taste him, but when I turn my head for a kiss, Cal keeps his distance. “I’m sorry that I didn’t give you that option.”
Anarchy at Prescott High Page 12