Page 53 of Striker

God. Reaper’s in for it now. I think we all are.

“You sure liked my mouth that night in the club,” Delilah says so innocently that Viper’s grip tightens even more, making her wince. “Liked it so much you groaned like a fucking pig.”

“Jesus,” Breaker says, shaking his head as he pulls himself up from the chair. He glances at me, then grabs Delilah from Viper, yanking her up roughly by her arm. She flattens her palm to his chest and looks up at him with a defiant, possibly even a little satisfied, smirk. “You like pushing buttons, but Viper has a hair-trigger temper.”

“What’s he going to do?” she says. “Fuck my mouth again? Spank me? Give me an orgasm?”

Breaker’s gaze darts to me. Yeah. We’re fucked.

She spins and marches toward the doorway. When we don’t all follow immediately, she turns around, brows going up. “Hungry, remember?” she says, crossing her arms. “You’re the freaks who insist on feeding me, so let’s go.”

“Don’t act like you don’t like it,” Viper says. “You love feeling Breaker’s cock against your ass.”

“I guess that’s one thing we have in common.”

My laugh is so loud Viper turns to glare at me.

Shaking his head, Breaker saunters over to her. He hooks a finger under her chin, tilting her head back to look up at him. She’s so small next to him, it’s almost comical that she has the guts to sass him. “You’re going to like it even more when my cock is deep inside your pussy,” he says, “and you’re swallowing Viper’s cum.”

Her eyes dart to me. “Where’s Striker going to be?” she snarks. “And Reaper? In your ass?”

She spins on her heel as I call after her. “Watch out, Princess, or you’ll have your privilege of leaving the house revoked.”

I really, really, hope she doesn’t try this shit with Reap. He’s on the edge, barely hanging on as it is.

She’ll regret it if she pushes him too far.

Chapter 22

Delilah

My heart races asI slide the drawer closed and reach for a bottle of water lined on the counter. I glance over my shoulder, then slowly lift my foot as I watch the door behind me in case one of them walks into the kitchen. I slip the thin steak knife between my thick sock and my boot. The jagged teeth snag on my sock, and I have to readjust it but get it down far enough into my boot so none of them will notice it.

Bending over, I adjust the long laces of the leather combat boots just to be on the safe side. I don’t want to get stabbed by the damn thing before I can get to the long hallway that leads to the west wing of the house. It’s not like I plan on stabbing anyone with it, least of all myself. I just need something thin enough to pop the locks on the doors that access that part of the mansion. They have been letting me roam around the last few days, but it’s limited to a few rooms, which tells me one thing.

They are keeping Cora in the west wing.

The three men left me alone after we did our feeding ritual that I absolutely refuse to acknowledge I am starting to like, andI went to hide in my room for the rest of the day. When none of them came to get me for dinner, I realized that if I was going to get food; I had to go to them. I wasn’t ready to face them again, so I waited until the sky outside my window turned pink and came downstairs.

Striker may have told me I could go outside, but after last night, I’m hesitant to step through the front door, much less venture out to the driveway or past it again. At least not just yet.

It’s only been twenty-four hours since my trek through the woods, and whatever they’re doing with me is seriously fucking with my head. I’ve spent the last several hours thinking too long and hard about Reaper’s lesson, between my legs throbbing every time I remember my face down in the dirt and my ass in the air. Their hands on me. Reaper.

I wonder if they’re doing all this with Cora, too.

I wonder if her smart mouth got her a spanking, and a fucked up reward.

I wonder, too, what will happen if I disobey again.

I close my eyes, sucking in a breath to calm the desire that rushes through me at the thought of them holding me down again.

I’m a mess.

At least I know I am, so maybe that’s a plus.

Ineedto find Cora. If my brain is scrambled and I have a hard time separating the men who stormed the lobby, shot Manuel, and kidnapped us, then chased me through the woods with the men who feed me my favorite foods and gave me pretty dresses and boots that look like the ones they wear, I can only imagine how she must feel.

I’ve always been the logical one, to the point I was told I was cold and distant. Except for the night in the club, Cora’s the wild child, driven by her emotions, ready to dive headfirst without checking to make sure the water’s deep enough. If I’mfeeling confused by being around them, she may very well be to the point of reckless by now.

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