Prologue

Prologue

Azadeh—Age 29

THREE MONTHS AGO

The Manor

The concept of belonging can be many things to different people. For some, it’s a ravenous crowd chanting their name and the allure of fame. Others gain accomplishment and abundance from the texture of green bills gliding between their fingers. For me, it’s coming home to the three men who simultaneously comfort and obliterate me.

My gaze wanders to the lush forest surrounding Lev’s property. I was surprised when he kept the place after his brutal and corrupt parents died. I didn’t expect him to gut the interior and make it his permanent home, especially as it was the origin of tangible nightmares that continue to haunt him.

The bump against my shoulder pulls me from my reverie. “Penny for your thoughts?”

I turn my head, and a smile lifts my lips.

Ezekiel Summers. The boy who saved me and was “rewarded” with the loss of his right eye.

He grabs the cigarette mindlessly burning between my fingers and brings it to his lips.

I shove the pack of Marlboros toward him, smashing the pack against his chest. “You can have your own, you know.”

Zeke inhales, and the tip lights up red. He doesn’t say a word as he exhales the smoke. “I know, but this filter has been between your lips.”

My face must turn every shade of red because Ezekiel chuckles and drapes his arm over my shoulders, pulling me toward him. Zeke’s arms provide a sense of safety I rarely experience. For someone who survived one form of upheaval after another growing up, having a constant is a novelty not to be taken for granted.

A part of me regrets leaving, but I know if I don’t, the seed of resentment will grow into a stubborn weed I’ll never rid myself of.

We sit silently, sharing a cigarette, the act poignant in its intimacy. That’s how it’s always been with Zeke: friendship on the cusp of consuming passion. So many times, I wanted to say screw it and burn with him. Then I thought about all the stories I’d have to forgo to do it.

I glance at him as he looks into the darkness. The beautiful boy has transformed into a handsome man. Zeke was the boy who made me not hate men. He showed me what a man could be when he stood by you, protected you, and sacrificed for you. Zeke taught me that I could lean on someone and know that the trust I’ve given him would never be taken advantage of or abused.

But when it comes to telling him how he makes me feel, my throat dries up, and my mind becomes numb. I want to nestle in the safety of his arms for all eternity, but my need for comfort is constantly overshadowed by the girl who believes that if she embraces happiness, she’s betraying her sisters, who have no choice but to reside in utter darkness.

The back door slides open, and I realize how safe I am with these three men. I don’t need to be vigilant about my environment when they’re with me. I smile, knowing Cyrus Porter is standing behind me by the flick of his zippo.

The three of us sit in silence, unsure of what to say or how to act, when a sulfurous odor suddenly assaults my nose.

Immediately, I turn to Cyrus. “Did you burn my hair?”

“No,” he replies, trying to prevent the corner of his lips from turning into a smile.

“Are you gaslighting me?” I demand.

“I would never burn your hair, Az.” Cyrus leans into me and whispers seductively, “You’re one of the few people I’d only burn if you asked me.”

I laugh. “That is a bald-faced lie because I can smell it.”

I pull my hair over my shoulder and inhale, needing confirmation, before glaring at Cyrus. “You know I can smell it, right?”

“Consider it my version of a love bite. And we both know how much you love those love bites,” Cyrus says as he wags his eyebrows.

It never fails to amaze me how attractive this man is, even with all the vicious scars covering half his face and the deep ridges burned into his skin. I know Cyrus has issues with them, covering what he can with blackout tattoos, but they’re beautiful in their imperfections.

To many, Cyrus might be The Boogieman, but all I see is a sly smile and green eyes that remind me of freshly cut grass on a warm summer day. I love their beauty, but I’ve always loved things that cause others to turn away—my little menagerie of beautiful boys the world was too scared to love.

Cyrus winks as he hands me a black box neatly wrapped with a red ribbon before pulling a joint from his pocket and lighting it. Taking a few tokes, he stares out at the lush forest. He remains quiet, as if pondering something too complicated or painful to utter aloud.

“What’s this for?” I ask, pulling him from his thoughts.

His cheeky smile returns. “Thought we’d have a little going away party.”

I quickly rip off the bow and open the box, gawking at the contents. Nestled in black tissue are black panties and a bra. But this isn’t just any lingerie. “The 9 Alarm Defender Briefs and sports bra?”

Cyrus exhales the smoke. “I like what I like, but I like your lady parts a little more, and I want to make sure they’re protected.”

I belt out a laugh before placing the box beside me.

“Whoa, are you turning your nose up at my thoughtful gift?” Cyrus demands, his bottom lip jutting with a pout. He yanks up the hem of his shirt, exposing his muscular chest, peppered with massive scarification and blackout tattoos like those covering his face. On the other side, my name is carved into the smooth, sun-kissed skin in jarring, jagged letters. “I think it’s pretty shitty of you to allow me to partake in your crazy kink when you keep denying mine!”

I’m not sure when my fascination with knives started, but somewhere along the way, it consumed me. So much so that I began training with anything made of steel with a sharp pointed tip: swords, carving knives, boning knives, boot knives, skinning knives, universal knives, and gutting knives. My love for them also bled into a kind of depravity, increasing my appetite for sexual activities that included risk play. I became consumed with marking my lovers and tethering them to me in blood.

I glance at Zeke for backup, but he simply smiles, pulling up his shirt to display my name on his chest. “The only one who can’t demand anything of you is Lev.”

I huff. “It’s not fair when it’s two against one.”

Zeke nuzzles his nose against my pulse point before growling in my ear, “Don’t pretend you don’t like it when we tag team you.”

I’m suddenly hot, my skin burning. I have no idea why that happens. I wish I had a smart answer for lewd comments or flirting, but I’ve never been that girl. Which, in all honesty, makes no sense since I’m never at a loss for words. Yet every time my best friend takes our friendship to a sexual level, I stammer and fall apart.

“What’s the matter, Princess? Cat got your tongue?” Zeke teases, nipping my ear and grazing his teeth along my delicate lobe. “I think you’d prefer it if I had your tongue instead.”

I jump off the back steps, needing to put some distance between me and the heady scent of Ezekiel’s cologne.

“Ah, come on, Hellcat.” Cyrus smirks. “We’ve got all this space. I’d think you’d want to make use of it.”

I frown at him, irritated by his mocking laughter.

Zeke gets up from the steps and stalks toward me. His body is lean and hard in all the right places. He brings the smoke to his lips, taking another drag, and I think about all the dirty things he’s done to me with many cigarettes over the years.

I step backward. “What are you doing, Zeke?”

A twisted smile forms on Zeke’s lips as he prowls toward me. “I was thinking about how hungry I am.”

I point toward the back door. “The kitchen is that way.”

Zeke laughs. “Come on now, Princess. You and I both know that’s not the type of snack I’m craving.”

I’m about to reply with a smart comment when Cyrus jumps off the porch and jogs over to Zeke. They both glare at me with predatory eyes as clouds of smoke shroud their faces. Zeke and I have played this game many times. One of us runs, and the other chases—our adult version of a child’s game. But for the first time, Cyrus seems to want to play.

I arch my eyebrow and tilt my head at them, standing there in all their masculine glory. “I’m not sure I like my odds. Two against one isn’t very sporting.”

“Don’t worry, Az. We both know Cyrus can’t keep up. Think of him as a pity fuck.”

Cyrus growls as he grabs Zeke’s hips and tugs him until his back is flush with his chest. “That’s not what you were saying when my cock was deep in your tight little ass. If I remember correctly, you were crying about how it was so fucking big. My favorite was when you screamed, ‘Keep giving it to me, Daddy.’” Cyrus gyrates his hips, mimicking Zeke. “‘Pound my little fuck hole. Make me feel so good, Daddy. Oh, Cyrus, that’s it, I’m gonna come. Just like that.’”

Zeke wraps his arm around Cyrus’s neck and flips him over, dropping him on the ground and holding him down with a booted foot. “Listen up, Cyrus. I’ve never called your punk ass Daddy, and I never will.”

Cyrus laughs as his hand glides provocatively along Zeke’s black army boot. “These are kind of hot. Maybe the next time I fuck your ass, I’ll tie you up spread eagle, completely naked except for these. Legs in the air as you get fucked like the little bitch you are.”

“When I shove my cock up your ass dry, you’ll know who’s the little bitch,” Zeke spits.

I laugh at their insane banter. It’s their foreplay. My guys love each other furiously, but they also fuck each other like mortal enemies. “Well, looks like you boys are busy, so I’ll be going.”

Both men turn their gazes on me as Zeke offers a hand to Cyrus and helps him up.

Cyrus lunges for me but misses as I sidestep. “You better run, Hellcat, because I’m hard as fuck and itching to punish your holes.”

I smirk at my boys and dash into the forest. This isn’t the first time I’ve run and been fucked in the forest. These games have always helped release the tension coiling in my veins. Running for pleasure and fun, not out of fear or vengeance. A welcome change of pace.

Leaves rustle and skitter behind me from two sets of feet belonging to two very determined men.

“When we catch you, Hellcat, I’m going to pound into that sweet pussy until you can’t walk straight,” Cyrus hollers from behind me.

“Gotta catch me first, Cy.” I barrel through the forest, dodging low-hanging branches. I laugh as I glance behind me to see Cyrus huffing in pursuit.

“How the fuck are you so fast?” he wheezes, grabbing his chest.

“Perhaps you should sit this one out, Cy.” Zeke chuckles as he runs past him, chasing me through the trees. “Let the big boy handle it.”

Carefree laughter bubbles out of me. I’m always light around the guys. It’s as if they possess magic, allowing all the troubles plaguing me to melt away. Moments like this make me want to stay, but then I remember that not all women experience what I have.

My world crashes around me as I contemplate the girls in Afghanistan and Iran and the girls in America sold to men who abuse them. I can only be with my guys in fleeting moments because I have important work to do. Those girls need me more than my boys.

My brother calls this bullshit survivor’s guilt, and maybe he’s right. But everything is down to chance first and choice second. I could’ve been a child bride sold by a desperate single mother who had multiple mouths to feed. I could’ve been born to a misogynistic man who believed that my life as a woman was meaningless. But I was lucky to be born to my mother, a woman who escaped oppression and braved the desert with three children.

“You’ve been practicing for a marathon,” Zeke yells, humor lacing in his voice.

“Thought you said you were a big boy and could handle it,” I holler back as I dodge a branch and jump over a shrub.

I glance behind me when Zeke doesn’t retort with a smart comment. I don’t see the guys and foolishly assume I’ve outrun or concealed myself for the moment. I turn to gain a greater advantage when I collide with a hard frame.

Zeke wraps his arms around me, turning me and holding me to his chest. His nose glides along my neck as he inhales audibly like an animal scenting me. “I said you got better, Princess. I never said you got better than me.”

This is check, but it’s not mate.

My feet lift off the ground, and I push back hard against Zeke’s chest, giving him my full weight. He releases me as he stumbles, and I run.

“Gotta be better than that, Zeke. Your girl has been training with the best of the best in Jujitsu. I’m gonna revive the Hashashin.”

Zeke laughs, and twigs snap behind me as he pursues.

I kick one of the trees, showing off the acrobatic wonder of the Asian martial arts I’ve learned over the years. My body swoops and dances with nature and the surrounding elements, demonstrating to Zeke and anyone else watching that I’ll only be caught because I want to. My gaze darts around me, gauging where my boys might be. I’m startled when I glimpse the dark Italian wool of a gray three-piece suit and immediately stop in my tracks.

Lev.

He leans against a large elm tree, arms crossed over his broad chest. Wisps of black hair fall over his pretty gray eyes as he watches me. A regular old peeping tom.

Before I can say anything, I’m tackled onto the ground, and Zeke’s deep voice rumbles, “Gotcha,” in my ear.

I twist in the dirt below me, remembering the game as his beautiful face hovers above mine.

Zeke sniffs me again. “Fuck, you smell so good. Do you have any idea what it’s like to get hard from someone’s scent?”

It’s immensely erotic when a man finds your scent so desirable he could lose his ever-loving mind. It’s always been like that with Zeke. Even when we were kids, he made me feel like I was the center of his universe. This man, without even knowing me, came to my rescue. Zeke showed me it was possible to trust a man who wasn’t my departed father or brother. Lying on the earth and gazing into his warm blue eye, I’m confident this man will never forsake me, no matter what I do. But I know I’m not ready to give him everything he deserves.

“How good?” I tease, wiggling beneath him as his hard, thick cock strains against me.

Zeke nips at my neck, sucking the delicate flesh and unleashing a lust to be marked by him. To wear his need and desire on my skin like armor, like a brand.

“Good enough to eat, baby,” Zeke murmurs. “You always smell good enough to eat.”

He works his way across my neck, kissing my face. Zeke always leads to aggression via tenderness. Guilt still lives within him, even after all these years. He worries that I’ll resent him if he doesn’t show me he loves me first. But I won’t. I harbor only love and admiration for him.

I grab his face, forcing his eyes to mine. “I know you love me.” I say the words with force and confidence. I don’t want him to have any doubt that I need it hard, dirty, raw, and fast. “I’m safe here. You’re safe here. We are safe here.”

He nods before his lips brush the hollow of my neck, and he skinks his teeth into my flesh with a vicious desire. My screams amplify as his hand moves to my breasts, kneading them with violence and inflicting pain.

Zeke grabs my hair, yanking my head back to give himself better access. The sting on my scalp is an aphrodisiac, bringing me to new heights.

I’m so absorbed in our passion that I’m startled when a booted foot lands beside my head. Gazing up, I see Cyrus standing above me with a boyish grin. That smile would seem sinister to some people because of the severe burn marks on his face. But he’s beautiful to me. My handsome jester with the broken heart. He’s never outrun the little boy who did nothing wrong but was punished regardless.

The toe of Cyrus’s booted foot scrapes along my cheek before he places it on my neck, restricting my ability to breathe. “You know what to do if it becomes too much. Blink twice if you understand.”

I blink twice, informing him it’s okay. That I am okay.

Cyrus nods. “Good fucking girl. Remember, Hellcat, we may fuck you like you’re nothing but our dirty little whore, but you’re the queen of our universe.”

His words shower me like warm summer rain. I bask in the knowledge that these men call me whatever they want during sex because, time and time again, they’ve shown me the lengths they’ll go to for me.

I sense the dirt he tracks across my cheek with the sole of his boot. An act meant to degrade me, but all it does is empower me. These three men could have anyone they wanted. Even with their scars and damage, they’re perfect. To know I’m the only woman they’ve ever claimed fills me with pride and amplifies my desperate need for them. Realizing you’ve bewitched a man to where no one else will ever compare is a powerful drug.

Cyrus unbuckles his pants and unleashes his thick penis, hovering over me. He falls to his knees and taps my face with his long cock. “Open up, Hellcat. Show me how badly you want to be my filthy little slut.”

My lips part, and with one full thrust, Cyrus hits the back of my throat, forcing me to gag. I relish the loss of control and the force with which he fucks my face. His taut ass is my only visual. Cyrus moans as I lap his shaft and a surge of power spikes inside me.

“That’s it, baby. Show Daddy what a cock hungry whore you are, pretty girl. Look at how well you’re choking for me. Such a good girl.”

I love Cyrus’s encouragement. I want to make him proud. I want to be the best in the world. A cock sucking gold medal-winning Olympian.

Shivers rack my body as he lifts my shirt, exposing my bare skin to the cool breeze. Zeke’s teeth nip at me, his incisors puncturing my flesh. I lift my hips, in desperate need of relief any way I can get it.

Zeke chuckles between bites. “Such a greedy girl, Princess.”

He grips my yoga pants and slides them off my body. His gentle hands are a contrast to his vicious teeth. The tip of his tongue glides along my skin until it meets the top of my panties. His hands move to my upper thighs, and he yanks my legs wide, bringing his nose to my center. He inhales again, tearing the cotton barrier between his mouth and my open, throbbing pussy with his teeth.

Zeke laps at me. “Such a perfect pink pussy.” He sucks my clit, taking me deep into his mouth. “I should punish you, Princess. It’s not fair to possess a cunt like this and keep it from me. I should tie you up so your pussy is open and ready for me to lick clean any fucking time I want.”

Cyrus’s enthusiastic thrusts muffle my moans. Drool drips from the sides of my mouth, and tears spring from my eyes as my breathing is restricted by his perfect balls covering my nostrils.

“Fuck, hearing you gag is the best sound on the planet. Even better than the screams of a man burning to death,” Cyrus growls.

I laugh, causing myself to gag even more. To Cyrus, the sound is the equivalent of a Shakespearean love sonnet.

“You know, Lev, if you got the stick removed from your asshole, you could fuck like a normal person instead of standing on the sidelines with your dick in your hand,” Cyrus says.

I turn my head, and my eyes connect with Lev’s. He’s fixated on me and the scene before him, hands in his pockets. It’s a position I’ve seen many times before: the lurker witnessing an erotic scene he desperately wants to partake in but can’t.

I extend my arm, inviting him to join us, but he simply shakes his head. For years, I blamed myself for Lev’s actions. Maybe he didn’t want me, or maybe the idea of sharing me with the guys upset him. But I realized neither was true. Lev couldn’t be with anyone because he couldn’t bear to be touched.

I stare at the tattoos along his neck, knowing those markings trace every inch of his skin. I asked him once why he allowed a tattoo artist to touch him when he denied me. His answer was simple. “They never touch me. Not in the ways it matters. Their touch causes a numbing pain, not pleasure or something even deeper. Love.”

Cyrus pulls out of my mouth, and I gasp for air. I watch as he shoves off his boots, followed by his jeans. He bends and rifles in the side pocket, pulling out a small bottle of lube. Turning to me, he smiles and waves the bottle in the air. “Never know when you’re gonna have a quickie in the woods.”

I burst out laughing, appreciating his timing. Cyrus might not always be appropriate, but he provides comic relief when the weight of life pulls me down. Zeke is my anchor, but Cy is my flotation device. My backup if things go wrong. And Lev is the turbulent ocean that draws me in but threatens to drown me.

“I’m gonna fuck you raw, Hellcat. Use all your holes and turn you into a communal cum dump. I’ll come so deep in your big, sexy ass, and once you’re filled to the brim, I’ll watch you walk back to the manor as I leak down your legs.” Cyrus walks around me, gripping Zeke’s hair and pulling him off me before crashing his mouth to Zeke’s to taste me on his glistening lips. They pull apart, and Cyrus’s eyes flutter shut as he circles the tip of his tongue around Zeke’s lips. “You taste so good, Hellcat. But you’ll taste even better with multiple hot loads inside you.”

Zeke smirks and grips my hips, flipping me over. I squeal as I brace my palms on the cold ground. All I can see is the dirt beneath my face and Zeke’s army boots.

“Make yourself useful, Cyrus, and pull down my pants,” Zeke demands.

I close my eyes in anticipation and focus on the slide of Zeke’s leather belt and the rasp of his zipper.

Zeke groans as the tip of his cock presses against my entrance. “You’re a good girl, Azadeh. My fucking princess. But I’m about to punish this pussy as if you’ve been very bad.”

Zeke’s fingers dig into my calves, holding me up while his cock mercilessly thrusts into me. I’m stretched to the brim, but I savor the pinch of pain from his massive girth. It feels good. It allows my brain to shut off and focus solely on the sex. On them. My boys.

Firm hands spread my ass open, and a tongue delves into my anus. The sweep of Cyrus’s warm, wet tongue is oddly relaxing, contradicting the brutal assault of Zeke’s dick in my pussy.

“I could eat this fucking ass forever and still want more,” Cyrus mumbles between licks and swirls of his tongue. “I’m gonna suck all my cum out once I fill it. Taste that sweet ass mixed with my jizz.”

Cyrus doesn’t move his tongue as cold liquid hits my ass. He doesn’t use his fingers to spread the lube around my asshole. Instead, he dips his tongue further into my anus. I remember the first time he did this, how uncomfortable and unsure I was about it all. Let’s just say sexual repression is prevalent in Iranian culture. It doesn’t matter what religion you’re raised in or how forward-thinking your parents may be. I had to get past that little hump to truly explore my sexuality and indulge my passions. It helped that I was with men who didn’t believe in societal norms or conventions, men who pushed and pushed until all my boundaries and hang-ups vanished.

Once Cyrus is done with his tongue, he uses the pad of his thumb to push as much lube as possible into my ass. Then he works his thumb in, distributing the lube evenly before slapping my ass. “I love fucking this juicy ass. It’s fucking big and sexy. And I love how these cheeks jiggle for me. If you ever lose your ass, I’m gonna be one pissed-off man.”

He lines up his cock with my anus and pushes in slowly, giving me time to adjust. Once he’s comfortable that I can take him, he thrusts in rhythm with Zeke, manipulating my body to the brink of ecstasy.

My legs shake as Zeke presses his thumb to my clit, making circular motions that add to my pleasure.

“Look at how well you’re taking us, Princess,” Zeke coos. “Such a good girl, getting nice and stretched for us. I feel Cyrus in your ass, baby. It makes your tight pussy even more impenetrable. You like being used by us, don’t you, baby?”

My pussy leaks more lubrication as their filthy mouths pull me closer to the edge. Dirty talk is an art, and more men need to learn how to do it. The added euphoria of verbal stimulation is the engine of the car.

I hear footsteps, and another pair of feet pause by my head.

“If you aren’t gonna join us, make yourself useful and spit on that puckered little asshole,” Cyrus taunts Lev.

A moment of silence. Then Lev spits.

Cyrus chuckles. “That’s it, Lev. Be a good boy, and lube us up. Take out your dick. I can see the outline straining against your pants. I’d offer to blow you once I’m done here, but you don’t like that, do you?”

I can’t see if Lev has taken Cyrus’s advice or if he’s watching the scene with a scowl. But I also don’t care because my entire body spasms as an earth-shattering orgasm blasts through me.

“That’s it, baby. Come for us,” Zeke encourages as he fucks me with greater force. “I love how your little pussy grips my dick as you come around it. Such a good girl. You got another for me, Princess?”

Cyrus and Zeke continue to fuck me, but Zeke’s thumb is no longer on my pussy. Instead, it’s replaced with a tongue. It’s not possible for either man to fuck me and eat me out. They’re pretty flexible, but not that flexible.

“That’s it, Lev. Lick her up like a good boy. Show our pretty little slut how much you like eating her cunt. Let your tongue do what you refuse to do with your dick.”

Lev?He’s never done this before. I knew Zeke was working with him on his aversion, but I never thought he’d be at this level. Then again, I assume he isn’t touching any other part of me.

“Don’t you dare stop what you’re doing, Lev,” Zeke orders. “Lick that pretty pussy until your mouth is covered with her. Her cunt likes it. She’s tightening for me. Our girl is gonna cum on your face, Lev.”

“Bro, he’s going nuts. I think he enjoys eating pussy more than you do,” Cyrus says.

I have to agree with Cyrus because Lev’s tongue laps me like a cat with a bowl of milk.

Within minutes, my legs stiffen, and another orgasm racks my body.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Cyrus and Zeke growl simultaneously as they release within me.

Zeke grips my ankles and lowers me to the ground as both men pull out. “You want your reward, Lev?”

“That’s my fucking prize,” Cyrus says with a childish pout.

“Move her to the tree, Zeke,” Lev demands.

I gaze at Zeke. For a second, I think he’ll say no. Zeke isn’t a pushover, and the guys can never get him to do something he doesn’t want to do. On the surface, Lev would seem to be the boss, but in reality, it’s Zeke. He has a way of ensuring obedience, and his gentle authority is something most people easily dismiss.

A smile forms on Zeke’s lips as he yanks me up like a leaf floating in the wind rather than a two-hundred-pound woman.

I gaze at Lev as Zeke braces me against the tree.

Lev tugs his belt from its loops with one pull as he walks toward me. “Pull her arms behind the tree trunk.”

“Remember your safe word. If it’s too much, say the word, and it’s over, got it?” Zeke reminds me.

“I’m fine,” I whisper. I won’t say that word until I’m so broken that I think I might die. I’ll let Lev do anything he wants to me because in all the years I’ve known him, this is the closest he’s ever come to being a part of us, at least physically.

Zeke pulls my arms back and wraps them around a narrow tree, gripping my wrists. Cool leather wraps around my flesh, holding me in place.

Lev walks around the trunk and glares at me.

I lift my chin challengingly. “Am I supposed to stand here naked for your viewing pleasure, or did you have something else in mind?”

“How does it feel, Azadeh?” Lev asks, his voice cold.

“How does what feel?” I retort.

“How does it feel to know you have three men waiting at home pining for you while you galivant around the globe?”

“I don’t know,” I spit. “Why don’t you ask the men who’ve done that for centuries? Or how about you talk to the women who sit at home raising children while their husbands get up to all kinds of things they shouldn’t?” I smile as Lev’s jaw ticks. “Besides, Lev, I never asked you to wait for me. Live your life. Be free. No one’s holding you down.”

Lev steps toward me. “I don’t like wanting things I can’t have.”

I’m pissed. I want to kick his ass and pin him beneath me with a knife at his throat. I want the upper hand and don’t enjoy that he’s in a position to gain it. I smirk and sing “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” by The Rolling Stones.

Cyrus slaps his ears with his palms. “How the fuck can someone so hot sound like a goddamn dying cat when she sings?”

Lev and I ignore Cyrus’s outburst as we face off with each other. I’m about to goad him again when he steps closer. Enough to feel his hot breath on my skin as he leans forward, but not enough to touch me.

“I want to do ungodly things to you—things a man shouldn’t do to a woman he loves. I want to hear you beg for mercy and promise you’ll do anything to make it stop. That’s not normal, Az. I’m not fuckin’ normal. What kind of man wants to tear apart the person he loves the most to watch them bleed?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. What kind of woman carves her initials into the men she loves? My purpose in your life is not to judge you, Lev. You understand my boundaries. I trust you’ll stop if I tell you. You have urges and desires that most don’t deem palatable, but it doesn’t mean you’re not a good man. What’s good anyway? I grew up in a world where supposedly religious men raped fourteen-year-old girls because killing a virgin was unforgivable in the eyes of God. The three of you had fathers who were praised by strangers while they tortured their sons. They might not deem the four of us good or proper because we’ve had to do questionable things to protect innocence, but fuck them and fuck that. The only thing that matters is we accept you. I accept you. But most importantly, I trust you. Do your worst, Lev. I’ll still love you in the morning.”

Lev’s jaw twitches and his eyes catch fire. For a moment, I think this is it. Lev is finally letting us in. Then he lowers his eyes and walks away, leaving me tied to the tree with Zeke and Cyrus’s cum dripping from my crevices.

“Is that it? You’re gonna run away again?” I call after him, trying to free my hand from the makeshift shackles. Anger rises, and I long to lash out. “You’re a good man, Lev. But you know what else? You’re a fuckin’ coward.”

Lev stops in his tracks and turns his head to me. I think he’s about to say something, but then he’s in front of me in a flash, his gun pressed to my temple. “I’m not good, Az. There’s nothing good about me. I like guns, I enjoy violence, and I’m obsessed with you. Nothing about me being with you will turn out well.”

I inhale a sharp breath as he drags the barrel of the gun along my body, circling my nipples before moving it between my breasts to the top of my mound.

He lowers the gun. “You’re right. I’m a coward, Azadeh.”

My legs part unconsciously, my body screaming with fear and excitement.

Zeke steps forward while Cyrus jerks his cock like a dog who’s seen a tantalizing piece of meat. I shake my head, warning Zeke to stay back.

My logical mind screams at me to say my safe word because this has gone too far, too quickly. But the girl who likes danger and craves fear holds her breath, anticipating what comes next.

Lev rubs my clit with the barrel of the gun, moving lower until the tip presses against the entrance of my pussy. “Taking a chance on me is like being fucked by this gun.” He pushes the barrel inside me until it’s in all the way, a crazy smile on his lips as he fucks me with it slowly. “We’re both loaded. You never know if or when we’ll go off.”

“I live for danger,” I whisper, arching my hips toward him. “But I’m also a vengeful bitch. Know this, Lev; one day, you’ll crawl like a dog for me to fuck you this way.” When he arches an eyebrow, I lock eyes with him. “Remember, you gifted me the other gun that goes with this pair.”

Lev’s nostrils flare, and I know I have him. His lizard brain is front and center, and right now, he isn’t thinking about anything other than fucking me. I have all his focus. He moves his hand vigorously, fucking me hard and deep with the metal barrel. Fear spikes in my veins, knowing that this lack of control could end with a bullet lodged in me, but I don’t care. All I want is for my Lev to loosen up, to live, to experience something, anything other than his self-imposed misery.

“That’s it, Lev. Make me come,” I encourage. “Show me exactly what a gun worth over two million dollars can do.”

Zeke and Cyrus move toward us. Zeke sucks a nipple into his mouth and the other between his fingers. He bites and pinches, adding an element of pain that brings me close to the edge. Cyrus sits between my legs, lifting me as his tongue lashes my asshole, sucking out the cum he recently deposited there.

“Don’t leave,” Lev pleads.

“I have to. People depend on me,” I whimper as I come undone, my body trembling with another release.

Lev pulls out his gun and brings the barrel to his mouth, wrapping his lips around it and licking it clean of my juices. When he’s confident he’s savored every inch of me off the metal, he places it back in the holster at his side and gazes at me. “We depend on you too, or do we not matter?”

With that, he turns and walks away.