Page 85 of Unwrapping Deviance

God, what’s wrong with me?

Then I look over to where they stand, twin pillars of raw, primal, fucking delicious masculinity. Both in dark jeans and darker eyes. They stand studying a box of locks, dark heads bent close. Daniel seems to be explaining something while Christian surveys the shelf for another option. His tatted arms are folded over a top that fits him too well across that gorgeous chest.

My gaze drifts to the hand Daniel had stuffed down my pants not five minutes ago. It’s the same one he’d pumped inside me in the car and made me suck off.

I shift to Christian’s hands. The ones he’d wrapped up in my hair while he’d kissed the fuck out of my mouth.

God, the man could kiss.

I’m pretty sure I could cum from that kiss alone if we hadn’t stopped.

Hot, dripping, seconds away from saying fuck it and fucking them both right here, I leave. I abandon the aisle with the two biggest temptations of my life and wander, needing a distraction. Literally anything to keep from stripping down right there and climbing one or both MacAllister men.

A hardware store has never been high on places I would consider sexy. There’s a lot of metal gadgets and grease, and smells like a garage, but rope? A leather strap thingy that hooks on both ends? Who knew cars had so many kinky things? There’s a whole section dedicated to suspension that makes me think work smarter, not harder if Daniel and Christian were to dangle me between them and...

“Well, look at what we have here.”

My head jerks up and away from the link of chain I’d been eyeing. My gaze snaps over to the three enormous men standing less than ten feet away with similar expressions of lust and disgust warping their already ugly faces.

They did something that required grease. Maybe mechanics? But their hands are black with it, and I can smell its pungent odor from where I stand.

The one in the middle, a burly beast with thick, copper curls halfway down his chest and small, cold eyes glowers at me from under the brim of a tattered cap that promoted a fishing company, or fishing, or something with a fish.

The other two flagging him are younger, equally dirty, but they seem more amused than angry.

“Clammy didn’t mention her being so pretty,” the one on the left drawls, wind whistling through the gap in his front teeth. “Almost a shame we gotta talk to her.”

“Don’t call her that,” the middle one barks, voice as big and gruff as he is. “She doesn’t like it.”

Gap-Tooth rolls his eyes. “Who gives a shit. Bitch is too high and mighty for someone namedClemence.”

Clemence.

That bitch. Did she send these goons totalkto me because I wouldn’t take her shit?

“That’s my wife. You’ll watch what you say about her,” the Viking growls, and I like him a little.

Sure, his choice in women is debatable but him sticking up for her was nice.

“Look, if Clemence has a problem with me, she can be a big girl about it and come talk to me herself. Not send her husband. It’s weak,” I state, folding my arms for good measure.

I am not about to let these assholes intimidate me. His wife started it. I finished it.

Gap-Tooth scoffs. “Clammy didn’t send us.” He only smirks when the Viking shoots him a glower. “Lucy did.”

I stared between the three. “Who the fuck is Lucy?” I ask when no one seems forthcoming.

“Why don’t you come with us, and we can talk about it?” the one on the right offers.

My heart and stomach don’t like any of this. Both are thumping and swirling anxiously as I weigh what the hell they want and how fast I can scream for Daniel and Christian before they grab me.

“I’m not here alone,” I warn them. “I suggest you walk away.”

The one on the right chuckles. He’s most likely the youngest. His attempt at a beard is no more than a few pathetic tufts around a weak jaw, unlike the Viking next to him.

“Oh, we know you’re not, but I don’t see your protectors.”

“They’re close,” I retort without missing a beat. “Leave me alone.”

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