Page 51 of Repluse

“How bad?”

“Bad.”

“You wanna touch yourself?”

“Yeah,” I sigh as my tongue flicks out to lick my dry lips.

“Want us to touch you?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

“She’s convulsing. Look at her pussy contract,” Frankie says.

“Fuck, you’re fucking beautiful. Slide down. Give yourself to Frankie,” Sam orders.

So I do. And when his mouth hits my clit and his fingers push inside me, I fall apart. When he adds another finger, groans against my clit, and Sam moans out a “Fuck, fuck,” I fall some more, lost, floating somewhere I’ve never been before—somewhere I didn’t even know existed—as my orgasm rolls on and on.

“I’ll letyou know if he heads your way. Just keep that backup phone near you all the time,” Frankie orders.

I nod. The cold morning? My nerves? My earlier orgasms? A combination of all three? I don’t know what it is, but I’m feeling jittery.

“Is it wise sending her home with her backup phone? If he finds it…” Sam trails off, obviously not wanting to verbalise what’ll happen if Logan finds my second phone.

“How else are we going to contact her?”

Sam pulls Frankie’s usual move and rakes his fingers through his hair before puffing his cheeks and blowing out a long sigh. The vapour from his warm breath clouding the cold air around us is loaded with frustration.

“How about we just don’t send her back to those fuckers? We keep her with us, keep her safe. We collect her mum and just sort shit out from there?”

“You don’t know him. That family. They won’t just let her go that easily, especially if they find out I’m involved.”

“I can keep the phone hidden. I keep my contraceptive pills and secret bank account card hidden all the time. I’m sure I can manage one more thing.” I reassure them with a smile and a shrug while not feeling in the least bit reassured.

“You hide your pills?” Frankie asks, stepping away from his car and back towards where Sam and I are standing next to his.

“He wants a baby. I don’t,” I explain with another shrug.

“Ever?” Sam questions.

“I was abandoned by my mother shortly after my birth. My father was an alcoholic. I’ve married a man who has descended from a long line of narcistic sociopaths and is one himself, so why would I?”

“I don’t mean with him. I mean with anyone. Someone else?”

“Are we really having this fucking conversation now?” Frankie interrupts. “Mils knows what she’s doing. I’ve every faith in her ability to stay safe. I’ll have eyes on Walsh and the building where she’s staying. If he so much as farts in her direction, we’ll know about it.” He takes another step towards me, wraps me in his arms, and in an unusual display of affection, Frankie kisses my temple. “You’ve got this, and we’ve got you. Trust me, we’ll find a way to get you away safely and permanently.” Looking down at me, he nods.

Unsure how else to respond, I nod back.

“I’ll see you at the office,” he says to Sam before turning towards his Merc.

CHAPTER 14

Frankie.

After finishing up the last of my phone calls, I filter onto the Monash Freeway and head towards the city. I blast Rage Against The Machine’s “Killing In The Name” over my car’s sound system. I need to run, head to the gym, and give the punch bags a workout. Or I need to find Logan Walsh and stamp all over his fucking head.

The anger I felt when first seeing Mila’s bruised face, the cast on her arm, then the bruises on her body was unmitigated, and even all these hours later, I need a way to work that negative energy right out of my system.

In the past, I’ve gone to the club and taken things out on one or multiple pain freaks who were there at the time. Male or female, I didn’t mind as I paddled their arses, lashed at their backs, or shoved unusually shaped or extremely large objects into their orifices—in private of course, on the club floor would be unprofessional. Now, though, there was Mila.

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