Page 43 of Striker

We’ve fucked women at the same time, two in her cunt, but this… this feels more invasive, more demanding of my senses than any of those moments when our hands brushed or our dicks slipped inside a warm pussy. My cock grows hard, and he smiles.

“Just admit it already, Strike,” Viper says, pressing into me harder. His lips brush my ear and my pulse rushes, drowningout every sound other than his rough breaths. “You would love me to be your good boy. Or maybe you’d be mine.”

That red flash of anger returns and I fling him off, grabbing his face with one hand, then kick his feet from under him. He goes down, hard on his back. I move to straddle him, fist formed, arm already pulled back, but Breaker grabs my wrist and yanks me back, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, dragging me to my feet.

I glare down at Viper, as he stands, somehow with dignity and grace for a naked man that was just tossed to the ground. But he always gets up even when he should stay down. Like right now.

When I try to snap my head back, seeking to connect with Breaker’s face, he stops me by slamming his palm to the back of my head.

“Fucking stop,” Breaker snarls, shaking me until I stop fighting. “Just fucking stop.”

“I think I hit a nerve,” Viper says, eyes narrowing.

When I stop fighting, I instantly notice Breaker’s dick pressing into my lower back. Hard, slippery with pre-cum. My dick throbs and I suck in a breath, wishing I had enough control to stop my body from responding.

“Do I need to grab the lube so you guys can work this out?” Reaper's voice from behind us makes us all freeze.

Breaker releases his grip and eyes me as he lets me go, waiting to see if I’m going to lunge at Viper again. I give him a nod and his shoulders relax.

Reaper stops next to me, and slowly takes in the scene, his eyes sliding up and down Viper, then Breaker, then slipping over to me. “Lover’s spat?”

“Fuck off,” the three of us say at once.

The corner of Reap’s mouth lifts. “If you three are done here, we have more important matters to attend to.” His eyesgleam, lit up with that dark light we all recognize. “I think Kitten wants to play.”

Chapter 18

Delilah

Shards of ruby gemslie scattered at my feet, glistening in the moonlight. I reach down to pick up a broken piece from the concrete, but my fingers slide through the gems. It’s wet. Sticky. Warm.

Red like blood.

I rub my fingers together, feeling the thick, warm scarlet moisture between my thumb and forefinger.

Blood is thicker than water.

My mother’s voice rings in my head. She always used to say that. I never knew what she meant. People aren’t bonded by water. We’re bonded by blood. Like my mother and me. We’re blood. Like my father and me. We’re blood too.

Cora.

Maybe she’s the water.

My name whispers in my ear. I turn, but no one is there. Wiping my fingers on my dress, I look down and see the pretty lavender dress I wore that night. The night I couldn’t save her.

Coldness brushes my ankle and I look down at my feet and see blue sapphires. My mother loved sapphires because they matched her eyes. The sapphires at my feet crack, splinters forming, running in lines from a dark center. They aren’t gems at all but eyes. My mother’s eyes.

And they aren’t rubies at my feet. It’s blood.

Everywhere.

Running down the walls, pooling at my feet, dripping down my face like tears.

A scream cracks through my head, clawing at my mind.

I bolt upright; the scream echoing in my head. I can’t tell if it’s the lingering sound of my scream from my dream or if it was real.

It cuts through me again, far away.

---