Page 73 of Carnival Mayhem

Nash moves to stand behind me, his chest pressing against my back. His arms wrap around me, holding me close as we survey the destruction we’ve wrought.

I don’t want this to end. I want to stay in this moment, feeling powerful and in control. Nash’s lips brush my ear as he whispers, “Trade me?” He takes the hammer from my hand, replacing it with a knife.

“Let’s slow things down a bit, angel. We want to savor this, don’t we?” He slides the knife into Jake’s ass cheek, twisting it slightly. Jake screams, his voice piercing the silence. “That’s it, scream for us. Let us feast on your fear for a change. After all, it’s only fair, right?”

I wield the knife, my hands trembling. I want to draw this out, too, and make them pay for every moment of pain they inflicted on me. I bring it to Tommy’s back, running it across his flesh hard. “I’ll give you something to scream about.”

Colt leans against the wall, a satisfied smile on his face. “She’s got a talent for this, Nash. I think she might be a natural.”

Nash winks at me, his dimples flashing. “Oh, I know she is. Our little bird has been hiding her sharp edges.” He pulls another knife from his pocket and slices the knife across Jake’s back. “Beautiful, Flora. Keep going.”

I step forward, the knife in my hand feeling like an extension of myself. Something inside me has shifted, and I feel powerful beyond measure.

“That’s it, angel. No need to rush,” Colt says, his voice a low rumble. “Take your time and enjoy it.”

I turn back to Tommy, digging the knife in a little deeper, a spark of satisfaction igniting within me as he cries out.

“Please,” he begs through his gag, his voice breaking. “Stop, please.”

Colt laughs; the sound is cruel and void of any compassion. “Not a chance, Tommy boy. You’ve only just begun to suffer.”

I work the knife across Tommy’s back, creating a crisscross pattern that mirrors Nash’s handiwork on Jake. The blade slices flesh like a warm knife through butter, and I feel a rush of heady power.

“That’s perfect, Flora,” Nash says, his voice steady. “You were made for this.”

I smile, feeling a sense of pride. Cutting them is almost like cutting away the pain they inflicted on me, slicing through the scars they left on my soul.

Colt moves to stand behind me, his body a solid presence at my back. His arms come around me, guiding my hand, making the cuts deeper. “That’s it, angel. Let it all out.”

I lean into him, relishing his strength. Together, we cut, marking their flesh, our rhythmic movements in sync. Jake and Tommy’s pleas and screams fill the room, music to my ears.

“You thought you could get away with it,” Nash says. “You thought you could hurt her, and there would be no consequences.”

“But you were wrong,” Colt continues. “We’re here now, and we’re not going to stop until she’s satisfied that she has gotten her pound of flesh.”

I’m covered in blood, and I’ve never felt more alive. I glance down at Tommy and Jake. Their bodies are broken, bleeding, and bruised, but they’re still breathing.

Nash’s hand on my arm startles me, and I stop. My chest rises and falls with the effort of catching my breath, my hands clutching the knife tightly. I glance at him, then at Colt, and I see the blood that spatters their clothes and skin. They’re splattered with my revenge.

“That’s enough, angel,” Nash says, his voice quiet. He must see a wild look in my eyes. Something has changed within me; something has clicked into place, and I want more.

But Nash’s words bring me back to the present. I blink, looking down at the knife in my hand. I don’t want to stop. I feel powerful, untouchable.

Nash and Colt have a primal hunger in their eyes. A dark desire that I can feel rolling off of them in waves, fueling my own desires. I want—no, I need—to touch them, to feel their skin against mine. But more than that, I want to own them, possess them, the way they’ve possessed me.

I step forward, driven by an impulse I don’t fully understand. My hands reach for them, drawn by the fierce protectiveness they inspire.

Colt’s eyes meet mine. “You’ve got fire in your eyes, angel. Put it somewhere useful.” His hands palm the bulge in his jeans, and a wicked smile plays on his lips. “You look so fucking sexy like this. You were made for blood and darkness.”

My breath catches in my throat at his words. I’ve never felt so alive, so in control. Hearing him say those words to seeing the raw desire in his eyes sets my blood on fire.

Nash steps closer, and I meet his gaze. “We’re yours, Flora, like you are ours. Do with us as you will.” He, too, palms himself through his jeans, the bulge straining against the denim.

I want to taste them, mark them as mine. My hands reach for their shirts, tugging them off, revealing their sculpted chests. I run my hands over their skin, feeling their warmth, their strength. I step closer, my body fitting perfectly between theirs.

Their lips find mine, mouths colliding in hunger and need. Our tongues tangle, dueling for dominance, each trying to take control. I kiss them both, my lips moving from one to the other.

Their hands are on me, palming my ass, pulling me closer. I can feel their cocks pressing into me, their desire matching my own. We move as a tangle of limbs and mouths, each seeking to satisfy the other.

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