Page 13 of Yours to Break

“You’ve got to be joking, right? Go fuck yourself, Hayes,” he spat. I grinned at his cute outburst.

“C’mon, just one night?” I purred, tracking the emotions rushing through his eyes. They were very expressive.

“No.”

“What about a date?”

“Absolutely not. Get out of my store before I call the cops on you for harassment,” Oliver seethed, his cheeks reddening. Would his ass cheeks also turn that color if I spanked him? I couldn’t wait to find out.

“Alright, alright,” I conceded, my hands raised placatingly. “I’ll go, but just think about it, pup.” My voice lowered to a raspy whisper. “Think about how we could make yousofull.”

To my utter delight, he threw a water bottle at my head.

It missed, but his point came across crystal clear. He didn’t want us. Somehow, that only made my growing desire for him more urgent.

I couldn’t wait to hear that bratty mouth beg to choke on my cock.

* * *

It was starting to really piss me off; the way Oliver wouldn’t fucking give in.The way he’d roll his eyes when Hudson teased him, or shift away when I leaned a little too close. Like we were annoying to him. Like we were background noise. We’d razed cities quieter than that kind of dismissal.

And it made no fucking sense. Heshould’vebeen grateful. Afraid. Flattered. Something that I could use as leverage. But Oliver just kept existing, as if our attention bothered him—as if he felt we weren’t serious.

I wanted to shake him,makehim see us.

Because I knew what this was. This was primal, feral. This was a need that didn’t end at skin. And the longer he ignored it, the louder it got. In my head. In my hands. In that animal place behind my ribs that only woke up when it smelled blood or longing.

“Will youfuck offfor five minutes?” His voice wasn’t raised, but it cut clean. “I’m tired and busy. I have a literal business to run while you two seemingly do nothing but sexually harass me. I haven’t had a single full night of sleep since you two decided to wedge yourselves into my life like stray dogs. And I’m notinterested.I don’t want to go on a date with you, and no, I don’t want to hear for the thousandth time that you can get me off with those supposedly giant cocks of yours. I don’t understand how much clearer I can be. So either fucking kill me, or leave me the hell alone.”

It wasn’t the words that did it. It was the way he said them. Flat. Final. Like he meant it.

I think Hudson stopped breathing. I know I did.

And while hearing him stand up for himself like that—bare his teeth—had my cock quickly filling, I wanted him to want us. So I ignored my urge to slam him against the wall, rip his pants off, and brutally fuck him in front of his customers.

After that, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Not just the words—though those carved a groove into my brain like a mantra—but thewayhe looked at us when he said them. Like we werebeneathhim, like he had measured us—me and Hudson both—and found us lacking. That shouldn’t have mattered. We were gods compared to him. But somehow, he held all the power.

He’d lit something inside me I didn’t know I had—something raw and ravenous andfeeling. Something that made my hands shake when he brushed past without a word, itching to reach out and make him unable to ever leave our side. Something that made me linger outside his apartment door at night, just for the chance to hear him moan, talk to himself, or chew on a midnight snack. I wanted to know what he looked like beneath the surface, and I wanted to strip him down to his bones.

He became our center of gravity in a way.

We weren’t playing anymore—we were circling something sacred and sharp. Something that might cut us open if we got too close.

But I didn’t care, and neither did he.

We would make Oliver cave, and when he did—oh, when he did—he’d find himself trapped in a hell we would craft just for him. A hell where he would lose that stupidly logical part of his mind, leaving him completely dependent on us to survive.

7

Oliver

A sleepover with Lane was just what I needed to decompress from the Terror Twins–that should be trademarked–so I was ecstatic as I stood outside his apartment door. I may have been a little too heavy on the doorbell, but in my defense, Lane had been taking too long to open the door.

“Jesus, fuck, Ollie! You’re lucky my neighbors didn’t just come out and shoot you,” Lane sniped, taking the grocery bags I’d been carrying to his kitchen counter.

I rolled my eyes, mimicking him, “You’re lucky the neighbors didn’t shoot you, meh, meh, meh.They probably wouldn’t aim low enough to hit me.” Lane snorted in amusement.

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