Page 83 of Striker

His rumbling groan makes my hips punch forward harder. My dick hits his throat. Keeping him still, I drive deeper until I feel him gag, throat moving. His lashes flutter, hand flexing on my ass.

“That’s it, tongue out,” I grate, eyes practically rolling to the back of my head. “Choke on my cock, you fucking filthy boy.” Viper swallows. “Oh fuck. Take me deep. Fuck yes.”

When he taps my ass, I ease up. The grating sound of his zipper makes my abs flutter. Then he frees himself. The sight of his large hand on his thick cock ignites fire in my veins. Viper grips himself tightly, jerking from root to tip with fast, harsh strokes.

“Good boy,” I grate, devouring the sight of him. My thumb skates over his jaw, over the spit dripping down his chin, andhis lips wrapped around my dick. “So beautiful, with my cock in your mouth.”

Warmth hits my ankle and his eyes roll back in his head. My spine tingles, the pressure building up so tight that when I drive into his mouth one final time, I hold him to me, throwing my head back, all tension and fury exploding out of me with brilliant heat. His throat moves around my tip as he swallows, making me groan and buck into his mouth deeper as I spill down his throat. My hips move back and forth with jerky movements, riding my release, then I pull away and stumble back to the sink.

Viper falls forward on to his hands, gasping and coughing. He swipes at the saliva dripping down his chin, at mycumon his chin. Raising his head, his eyes meet mine and something flares behind the blue color.

My head spins, and panic slams into my chest, clawing at my throat. With shaking hands, I grab my pants and shirt, and stalk past him out into the bedroom, frantically dressing. I grab one of my masks and tug it on. Pants still unzipped, I fling the door open, this wild, dangerous fear chasing me as I take the stairs two at a time. As I fling the front door open and storm past the driveway, then out over the lawn, that panic needles its way into my stomach and I have to stop and bend over. Breathe.

Just breathe.

Hisface flashes in my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut, but his face is replaced with Viper's and the memory of how he sucked my dick, eyes flashing with the same pent up desire I constantly feel around him. Around Breaker.

Yeah. He was right.

I’ve wanted him for a long time.

Chapter 33

Striker

15 Years Ago

September

Age 15

We’re in the trainingyard when they return. I only know they are back because I hear Cook yelling something to Commander, and the two of them rarely speak. The word gurney cracks across the yard, and I lower my rifle, turning to look at Viper next to me.

The way his expression turns to panic tells me he heard it too.

“Please don’t be them,” Breaker says and I glance his way. He looks scared too. Scared that our brothers wouldn’t return. That they wouldn’t make it to twenty like so many that came before us.

They’ve been gone so long, I think we all feared the worst. We’ve heard the whispers about the wilderness over the years. The set of brothers to go before Reaper, Hunter, and Seeker never returned. They were lost out there. The record's we saw confirmed it.

No. Not lost.

They died.

“Get in formation!” Commander Maxim yells and we scatter, complying with his order as quickly as possible.

In the distance, I hear the familiar grate of the fence sliding back, allowing someone entrance to the front yard. I remember the sound from that first day I arrived and nearly every day after as supplies were brought in. The school is an old high security prison that used to house the criminally insane. Men who couldn’t be placed with other normal criminals. Men who tore their victims apart. We’ve all heard the stories.

I always wondered why Fallon chose this place to house the school. But maybe it’s fitting. He’s turning us more and more every day into cold, hard killers.

“Fuck,” Breaker hisses from next to me, drawing the word out so long that I glance at him. He lifts his chin in the direction of the entrance.

My stomach sinks. I don’t want to look.

“Get the body on the gurney,” Commander says.

The body. I press my eyes closed, fear and a slick sickness making my legs weak. It’s always amazed me how people are no longer people when they die. They’re just a body. But then that’s all that’s left. Whatever spark of life that makes us who we are disappears when the mind dies. We become just an empty shell.

“Who is it?” Viper asks, and I realize he’s as much of a coward as I am. Neither one of us can look. We don’t want to know if Reaper or Hunter has had their life snuffed out. If they are just simply a body now.

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