Page 8 of Murder & Mayhem

My hand involuntarily tightens around the beer bottle, and I grit my teeth against the ugly feeling of jealousy that rises in my stomach. There’s no way I’m going to allow myself to feel jealous over that asshole. One orgasmic quickie is not enough to overcome his shitty attitude and frequent tendency to piss me off.

As a genius idea comes to mind, I take another swig of my beer and saunter across the room toward the jerkweed himself, plonking my ass down beside him. He startles, ungluing his lips from the girl attached to them long enough to scowl at me.

“Fuck off, Red. I’m busy.”

“I just thought I’d come check if you got that penis problem sorted out okay,” I reply in a sweet-as-pie voice.

“What penis problem?” the girl in his lap asks, her gaze darting between Cain and me.

“Oh, it’s probably nothing to worry about. Nothing an intense course of antibiotics won’t cure, I’m sure.” Despite the reassurance in my tone, I dart an unsure glance toward Cain’s crotch, which is enough to have the woman jumping out of his lap, looking horrified.

“I didn’t need antibiotics,” Cain growls angrily. His words only encourage the woman to take another step away from him. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he snaps, growing more irritated by the second. He throws a hostile glower my way before fixing his attention on the girl, attempting to coax her back onto his lap. “She’s lying.”

I gasp. “Cain! You didn’t get it treated? Oh my god! What if it falls off?!” I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing as the woman backs up another step, ensuring she’s well out of Cain’s reach for fear that he might drag her anywhere near his infected cock. Her eyes keep flicking toward his crotch, as if she’s expecting his dick to fall out of his pants at any second. It’s fucking hilarious.

Not waiting to hear anything more, she spins on her high heels, not even making up some sort of excuse before she disappears into the crowd on the dancefloor and leaves me with a seething Cain. Despite the volatile energy crackling in the air around him, I lean back in my seat, feeling triumphant as I take another sip of beer.

“I hope you're happy now,” he snarls, spearing me with a deadly look. “If you wanted another go on my dick, all you had to do was ask.”

I choke and start coughing as I gape at him. “Once was enough, thanks,” I retort with a scowl when I finally find my words again.

“Uh-huh, sure it was.” The jackass’ cocky tone has me narrowing my eyes at him as he throws his arm over the back of the sofa behind me and leans in, invading my personal space. “That’s why you can’t stop thinking about me, remembering how fucking good it felt to have your pussy stuffed with my cock.” He chuckles, the sound wholly darkness and pure sex that makes my breathing hitch. “The way you screamed my name, it was like a fucking symphony.”

Holy Mary, Mother of Jesus. I don’t even remember calling out his name; that’s how fucking lost I was to the intensity of that orgasm. I can feel his heated gaze burning through my skin as I struggle to swallow given my sudden parched mouth, but a moment later, he leans back into the couch cushions, removing his arm from the back of the sofa as though nothing happened.

By the time Oliver returns, he’s sipping casually on his beer. Meanwhile, I’m still a molten-hot mess of hormones as I struggle not to squirm in my seat.

“All good here?” Oliver asks, taking a seat on my other side. He casually drapes his arm along the back of the sofa behind me—where only a moment ago Cain’s was perched—ensuring his fingers brush the strip of skin at the back of my neck.Fucking hell, these men are trying to kill me.I shiver at his touch, a reaction that doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them as they both glance my way. As good as their combined gazes feel, I amsonot entertaining that line of thought, and instead, I awkwardly clear my throat. “So… this is what you guys do every night?”

“Only on nights when we’re not throwing raging gang bangs and snorting coke like there’s no tomorrow,” Cain drawls, his tone heavy with sarcasm.

“It’s a good way for the guys to chill out and relax on nights when we don’t have the cage or pit fights running, or any Reject crap going on,” Oliver offers, ignoring Cain.

“Speaking of relaxing…” Fishing in his pocket, Cain pulls out a joint, grinning as he snatches a lighter off the table and, bringing the spliff to his lips, he lights it up. He takes a long drag, the tip glowing red before he leans his head back and blows the smoke out in a slow, steady stream.

A lazy grin crosses his face as he sags into the seat, passing the joint my way. Hesitating for only a second, I take it from his outstretched hand and bring it to my lips. Cain turns his head to watch as I wrap my lips around the butt, and I hold his gaze as I inhale, holding the smoke in my lungs for a moment before breathing out.

“Mmm.” It’s been a long time since I let myself unwind with a beer and a joint. I obviously don’t do it in the apartment, around Luc, and there’s usually no way I’d let myself lower my guard enough when I’m out in public. Surprisingly though, I don’t feel the need to be on alert here. Which is crazy considering I’m in the middle of a gang clubhouse, where any number of dangers could arise at any moment. Yet, pressed between Oliver and Cain, I feel relatively safe.Huh, maybe I am starting to trust them after all.Although, it’s hard not to feel safe when you are encased between two hard bricks of solid muscle. “I’m surprised, Cain. You don’t strike me as the stoner type.”

He scoffs. “Like you know anything about me.”

I cock a brow at the challenge in his tone, taking another tug of the spliff. “Someone like you doesn’t give up control easily. You wouldn’t be the leader of the Rejects if you did.”

Slowly, he lifts his head off the back of the sofa, and reaching out with one hand, he grabs my wrist, holding it still as he leans in to take another draw. “Maybe so, but in this life, you never know when you are going to meet your maker.” He meets my gaze before continuing. “I’d rather face death with some fun, drunken, high memories than just the endless void of my failure.”

My lips part in surprise, unsure how to respond to that. Despite his cavalier tone, the pain is clear to see in his eyes, and I can only assume he’s talking about his sister, the one Oliver told me about. The whole reason for Cain's all-consuming path of vengeance.

Breaking off our stare and ending the weird, intense moment, he flops back into the couch just as Oliver steals the joint from between my fingers, taking his own draw.Oops, guess I forgot to hand it over.

I give him a quizzical look as Cain sighs heavily beside me, sounding like he’s carrying the weight of the world in that single breath.

“Don’t worry about him,” Oliver answers. “He can become a melancholy mood-killer after a few drinks and a bit of weed.” I don’t miss the worried gaze he sends Cain’s way, though, before offering me a reassuring smile.

We lapse into silence, watching the other Rejects party around us as we pass the joint back and forth. I feel the tension seep from my body with every tug, a mellow high making me feel light and floaty.Damn,it has been way too long since I let myself unwind this much.

I stretch my neck from side to side, working out the kinks, and Oliver moves his hand to massage the muscles along the back of my neck.

“Ooohhh.” My eyes drift shut beneath his heavenly touch, and I don’t realize how dirty that sounded until I open them to find Cain watching me with a heated gaze.

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