Ten

ten

LORI

Another five days passes. And nothing on the revenge front. My murderous urges haven't disappeared, they need an outlet. I need to get even somehow. I can't wait patiently at home near the phone. That's unthinkable. Absurd. Murder-inducing.

So in the afternoon after work, instead of going home and study I instruct Arnold to take me to Rami and Hunter's house to see Dare.

While waiting at a red light in the back seats my eyes focus on that damn bloke wearing a white mask again. He is leaning against a wall in a narrow alleyway entrance. Same gray hoodie, broad shoulders, and tense stance. The white mask covers his whole face leaving only two small narrow holes for his eyes. But he's always too far to discern the color. It looks like he's staring at a restaurant. Isn't it one of Uri's? He owns a buttload of them, hard to remember every single one.

When I look back the bloke has pulled a Houdini again and disappeared. Who is he? Is he real? I might be in need of a psychiatrist, not an eye doctor. Meg will hear from me soon.

When I arrive at Dare's—kind of a farm in the suburbs—he's alone. His brothers are both at work, and Rami and Hunter at the pet shelter. Fred, his blind squirrel is wrapped around his neck, like a scarf, taking a nap.

"What do you need?" I like how to the point he always is.

"I want to cyber kill a maggot," I respond with the same directness as I grab a juice from the kitchen fridge.

He doesn't even blink at my odd request. "You want me to falsify a death certificate?"

"Not only that." I smile at him with excitement. "We'll give him the nastiest death ever, then a cheap funeral, write a last will and testament leaving everything to charities and pet shelters."

He whistles. "They really pissed you off."

"Philip Bailey has to die." The fact that I can remember his name says it all. I follow him into his room and drop myself on his humongous bed. In the last two months, Dare got even taller and bigger. When will he stop growing?

He sits at his desk in front of two screens and starts tapping on his keyboard. "Rami already cleaned out Bailey's offshore accounts, and Serena will let us know if he tries to withdraw money from any other bank in the US."

Dare isn't part of the family side business, but he has ears, and Rami is not very careful around the triplets.

"Don't care. I can't kill the fucker in reality, so I need to do it Matrix style, or I'll go on a rampage." I notice Ren's snake wrapped around the ceiling light as I look to the heavens with exasperation. George is sweet but still a snake.

"Okay," Dare agrees. "You're in luck. I hacked a morgue a week ago, I didn't close the back door, so I can enter their files again and add Bailey. How did the dude die?"

"Spontaneous combustion caused by too many jalape?os. No, I can do better." I start pacing as I think. "Run over by a Zamboni. Not funny enough. Crushed under a piano. Lame." I suddenly stop, snapping my fingers. "I got it! Tragic gardening accident involving a very long, thick zucchini, slippery olive oil and a pair of shears. The authorities thought it was best left unsolved."

Dare snorts, but he quickly falsifies a police report. Rami has created his very own mini-me. Bugger, I want one, too.

Now that I think about it, I need to contact Spencer, the young bloke that used to live near my old building. He moved into one of the apartments above Ollie's library café a few days ago. We used to chat when we met in the neighborhood. He is a good mate who went through a long series of unlucky events. I gave him some errands to do in exchange for money and a place to crash after I discovered how grave his situation was. That didn't stop him from almost joining the Scorpion gang. I'm glad Rague and Ollie helped him out.

"I chose a very cheesy funeral home. Plastic flowers and a greedy owner. Same for the lawyer—one of those ambulance chasers. He does it for a price and keeps his mouth shut." Dare's voice takes me back to the present. "Philip Bailey has an illegitimate daughter, did you know that? He's never acknowledged her."

"Really?" I ask, dying to know more..

Dare goes back to making his fingers fly on the keyboard. "The little girl is four. Her mother is an ex-exotic dancer, now working two jobs to provide for the daughter."

"So let's leave most of it to her, another part to single mothers in need and the rest to pet shelters." I change my plan slightly.

"Does Rami know about this?" Dare asks only now.

"Nope. The Angels of Crap are on my fuck-off list at the moment. Overprotective idiots!" I mumble the last words. "Hunter Bear does, though." I have his approval—sort of.

Dare seems satisfied by my reply. "So Bailey, after a deadly encounter with a zucchini, leaves most to his daughter?"

"Precisely. Now let's add more embarrassingly specific details to that death certificate." I smirk evilly, leaning toward the screens.

The days keep passing by and Gabe, Bez and I are still alive. The cohabitation isn't a smooth one, but we've managed not to kill each other.

I fall asleep every night with my body wrapped in a stranglehold around Gabe, my face in his neck. His skin slick with sweat tastes salty. He always traces my spine or hips with his fingers, depending on our position in bed. I'd melt into the mattress if I hadn't already been rammed into it. I've never been so thoroughly fucked, in every sense possible.

How many times have I performed this dance? The physical encounter followed by the side-stepping of any emotional entanglement? And yet, this time I can't stop myself from stumbling, slipping, and falling. I don't want to extricate myself in any way. Why would I?

At night they wake me while worshipping my body in every position possible—didn't know I'd be so much into somnophilia, but bloody hell sign me up for it. Bez tells me how much he likes my devious mind and mischievous ways, while Gabe looks at me with such searing desire, I could naturally combust.

The multiplicity should have scared me. Instead, it works perfectly. I always knew one man wouldn't do it for me, two seemed too much work. Gabe and Bez, though, are the perfect fit.

Two men in one.

They keep me on my toes, never knowing who I'll be facing. The bantering among us is irritating and so blistering hot it always ends with my hole filled to the brink.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this isn't me, is it? It can't be me, this submissive, desperate creature helpless to do anything, but eagerly take their cock. Even exhausted or furious, part of me wants to climb on top of them and take it until that hollow ache inside me stops hurting. Have I lost control over my body and my mind if I want to lie on top of them, to feel their heat and powerful body under and around me, to close my eyes and drift in peaceful dreams surrounded by their scent?

It's not only the daily phenomenal sex I'm getting, though. I love spending time with them. We are constantly together, working together, going for a bite together, watching movies, listening to rock music—well with Bez, Gabe hates it.

I like this life. I'm never bored with them. I even like Gabe's light snores at night. It's a rare occurrence to see him sleeping at all, his insomnia doesn't allow him much time for that. So it fills me with happiness when it happens. On some level it's like he trusts me enough to let go and rest in my arms.

I also love to be the only one to know those small idiosyncrasies of theirs. Like the fact that Gabe brushes his hair always with even strokes, or Bez never adds salt to his food before trying it and gets super annoyed when a commercial comes on TV, or how Gabe would spend hours in his knife room—the door near is bedroom—polishing his blades and tossing them at his man-shaped target.

I feel lighter since I moved in with them—can't believe that from a horrible thing like being dosed, this happened.

Besotted is what I am, and the feeling grows each day. When I hear Bez talking softly to Wednesday, when I fall asleep on the sofa with my cheek resting on Gabe's strong thigh and his long fingers carding through my hair, stroking my neck, tracing my lips, when I wake up to the sight of them emerging from the bathroom all wet and fresh, hard abdominal muscles on display with that delicious light trail that disappears inside the small towel around their hips, hiding the best part of them from my gaze until it falls on the ground and they walk to the closet with their soft but still impressive dick hanging between their legs, balls swinging.

They surprised me grandly when I received Sully's frantic call yesterday; he was having a panic attack. Rague and Ollie were busy with a donor while Brad had gone out to get something to eat and wasn't picking up his phone. I jumped out of bed, ready to drive my supermini barracuda when Bez started getting dressed too.

"Wherever you go, I go," he simply stated, and down the besotted hole I went. I slid even further when I witnessed the tranquility Gabe transmitted to Sully. The patience and understanding he showed to the frightened boy. When that didn't work, Bez came out, calling Pink a rotten cat.

"Is she a survivor of the nuclear bomb?" he snorted.

A glowering Sully found his fighting spirit again as he told him off. I noticed the twitch on Gabe's lips at his answer. They did it on purpose to make the boy react. To make him forget about his fears.They left me in awe of them.

The besotted hole seems to have no bottom whatsoever.

Then Gabe has started wearing casual clothes—I say Gabe because Bez I've learned would go around butt naked if he could.

I discovered that low, gray sweatpants are the fuck-me-right-here-right-now garment of choice. They are also a concussion risk since I seem to trip over my feet every time he wears nothing but those sweats. They perfectly outline the thick shape of his delicious dick, riding low on the V pointing right in its direction with blond hair peeking out of the waistband, leaving his long, defined chest on display. Without exception, my mouth pops open every time he walks in like that.

Even in a white cotton, knit-ribbed muscle shirt showing his bulging biceps, low-rise jeans wrapped around his muscular butt—he can fill them like a dream—brown dress leather ankle boots, and a sexy, navy beanie covering his blond hair, he's just…too much. I might need to invest in a smelly salt company.

I do like Gabe wearing his tailored, three-piece suits as well, though. They make me purr with lust. At the firm, he tries to be all professional, but I can see how much he forces himself at times, his eyes gleaming as he glances at me while in a meeting, talking to clients or colleagues. His hand seems to always find its way to my thigh under the table, sending a jolt up my body, but he does it slowly, as if he is reluctant to touch me but can't help himself.

Does he feel the same inexorable pull that draws me to him? The same tingle that rapidly travels down my torso and halts in the pit of my stomach?

Gabe's hard gaze says no funny business, but when he calls me to his office, his voice over the phone is raspy and sounds like sex. I look forward to our private…fights, to his hand set across my throat without hampering my breath, his thumb on my chin tilting it up, forcing me to open my lips as he pushes closer until all I perceive is him—and my body hyperventilating.

Today, though, our fight didn't end up the usual way—with me pinned on a flat surface, filled with his dick. He had just come back home when he received a call from Rami. I know it was him because I heard his voice through the phone. Gabe told me to start eating the dinner I bought from his favorite Greek restaurant.

When I asked him where he was going, he just replied, "Stay," as he grabbed his keys.

"Not your dog, Gabriel," I full-named him.

"No, but you scream when I fuck you doggie style." Bez smirked at me smugly. He's such an egotistical, overgrown, conceited prick at times.

"How about I bite your balls off, dog style?"

"Kinky, Little Wasp. But we do love your teeth on us." He's crouched to pet Wednesday. It's baffling how Bez loves my hen while Gabe barely acknowledges her.

"I know that!" I retort. "Still want to tear you a new one if you keep me out of this. The ‘where you go, I go' is only one-sided then."

His eyes darken as Gabe takes over again. They switch quite often when we are at home or fucking. I can recognize the small signs now. "Stay here. I won't leave you out of the fun."

Arrogant, bumptious, bigheaded, ridiculously handsome dick!

"Okay." I shove the bitter word out between gritted, cracking teeth.

His eyes bore a hole in my head, while his lips give an amused twitch—still no smile from Gabe. He seems to see through my fake submission and malicious compliance. But he still leaves.

I took the piss out of Ollie and Rague and their co-dependency numerous times. And now more than anything I want both Bez and Gabe to feel reluctance similar to mine when they let me go.

I stomp to the walk-in closet in the bedroom, dialing Sari's number. If my boyfriends don't want to share with me, I won't share with them.

Did I just refer to Gabe and Bez as my… boyfriends ?

"Hey, Lori." Sari decides to pick up as my brain is trying to recover from the bloody massacre of my neurons. "Hello?"

"Angel, do you have access to weaponized smallpox? Cholera?" My eyes fall on the small Lady Dior bag I rented from the thrift store downtown three weeks ago. I have to return it soon. I'm kind of happy my time is up. It reminds me of Crimson, the pain, the embarrassment, and my arsehole boyfriends.

Boyfriends. Boyfriends, I mentally repeat it. It sounds right. The same boyfriends that gave me Prada and Chanel bags. Imagining strangling them while kissing them is a healthy mental exercise. Everybody knows that venting is good for the soul.

I slide my hand inside the bag to make sure I didn't leave anything inside when a piece of paper slides to the floor.

"Sorry, no cholera. But I might have some mad cow disease at the base," Sari replies to my crazy request. He's such a sweetie.

I pick up the paper, and my frown turns into a wicked smile. It's Crimson bartender's phone number, Caterpillar Brows. He gave it to me that night…before dosing me, the shitbag. Maybe he can lead us to Bailey, or I can just beat his nuts until they turn into a red goo. Blood red should represent tranquility, blue is an overrated color.

"Hold on a sec," I tell Sari, so I can text Caterpillar Brows. He answers straight away, and I know it's fate. "Angel, stop whatever you're doing. We are going on a special mission."

"Mission?" He sounds adorably confused.

"We're going hunting tonight," I declare, turning my eyes to my sexiest clothes in the closet.

I park a couple of blocks away from the bar. I'm wearing my tightest, shortest skirt, red with a sexy slit on the side, and a snappy, sparkly tank top loose on the front with a crisscross back. My get-lucky scarlet pumps are on my feet, and I feel hot and ready to use their heels to pierce some testicles. My curls are loose and shiny, my nails painted lucky emerald and my glittery ruby eyeshadow and maroon eyeliner are daring and absolutely spectacular.

"From here, we have a good view of the bar entrance," I say with excitement as I tilt my head to look outside the car window. I shift back to check my red kiss lipstick in the flippy sun visor. My statement is met with silence, so I turn toward Clover and Sari, sitting respectively in the passenger and back seats.

Clover is gawking at me with distress in his eyes, while Sari is white as a ghost, still grabbing the oh-shit handle in a tight-knuckled grip, other hand pulling at his braid.

"What?" I ask them.

"You're a…terrible driver," Sari whispers.

"It's the first time I've heard you insult someone, and that someone is me… Awwww." I cover my mouth, feeling honored to be someone's first.

"I saw my whole life shuffle before my eyes." Clover glares at me now.

"Flash before your eyes, Clover-bell," I correct him.

"I don't care, Lori! You almost hit a pole while screaming at an old man."

"He shouldn't cross when the pedestrian light is flashing." Especially if he needs a cane to walk.

"Drove on two wheels for two blocks."

"That curve was tighter than I thought. I might have lost a couple of tire bolts out there." My chuckle earns more glowers from Clover; Sari is still recovering. "You're both overreacting," I huff.

"Over… You ran two red lights and drove into oncoming traffic!" It's weird to see Clover this agitated, he's a very laid-back person. My driving brings out people's hidden sides.

"I couldn't see after that mental pigeon decided my supermini barracuda was the perfect target to bomb with turd. How a small bird can poop that much is disgustingly staggering." I turn my eyes toward the white and brown mess on the windshield. "I tried to clean it off with the wipers, but it got worse. Now it's smeared everywhere." Washing it is going to be a bitch. I'll need a hose, a limitless amount of water, and some acid. Maybe I should just change the whole windshield.

"I'll find another way back home, which will not be in your car," Clover announces with finality.

"I'm sure Superman can fly you there," I joke. Ungrateful, scaredy cat.

"We did fly and float in the air at one point when you didn't slow down over that downhill road," he reminds me.

"Supermini barracuda is a powerhouse. I wanted to show you guys the roar of her engine," I say with excitement.

"I could barely hear you over that roar," he hisses.

"I heard each one of your screams, Clover-bell. And I think you left the imprint of your fingers on the car door. Gabe just fixed her. Be gentle."

"Do you have a sickness bag?" Sari teases—I think.

"Wednesday had so much fun, didn't you dear?" I look at her perched in her own seat.

"Why the hell did you bring her?" Clover stupidly asks.

"She was restless at home. She wanted to go out, duh."

"I think she laid an egg." Sari lets me know.

"I'll have toast and a sunny-side up for breakfast tomorrow." I push a fist up in the air in triumph.

"What's the word you use? You're daft as a bush!" Clover insults me before getting out of the car and slamming the door.

I lean on his seat until I reach the car window to look at him pacing. "I'm a plonker at times, can lose the plot, and be like a dog with two dicks. But I'm not daft, you tosser!"

"I didn't understand a word—" He suddenly halts to stare at something on the left. "Isn't that your stalker? Ronny something," Clover asks me.

My eyes quickly laser focus on the two blokes talking outside a 7-Eleven a block away. Fuck me sideways, it's Chimney—I could recognize those overly tight jeans and long dry hair anywhere. He's clearly using his lame charm on someone. I haven't seen him since the café, but I've never been alone after that. Gabe is always with me when I go out, and Arnold drives me around when he isn't.

"I have some questions for him. We arrived early?—"

"Due to your crazy driving," Clover feels the need to say.

"I can spare some time. Care to help me?" I feel my evil smile curling my lips as I look from Clover to Sari.

"What do you have in mind?" Sari grabs the headrest of the passenger seat to move forward.

"Misdirection," I whisper darkly, moving my eyes toward Wednesday.

Five minutes later, Sari and Clover are strolling down the street toward him, smiling and chitchatting. I've rounded the block and am walking out from the alley that emerges a few feet from the prick. He's too busy cornering his prey near the wall to notice me. But the prey sees Wednesday. "What is that?" he screams like an idiot.

My lady hates high-pitched noises, and flapping her wings, she starts pecking their ankles. It's always fun to see people trying to move away from an angry hen, they do a little, uncoordinated, bouncy dance.

Adjusting my baseball bat on my shoulder, I swing it hard on Chimney's leg. He moans and falls on his knee as I snap my fingers. Wednesday stops her attack and moves away, looking for food on the dirty ground.

"You. Run," I tell the prey, moving my bat up and down. He doesn't let me say it twice and flees like he has the flame of hell burning his ass.

Chimney slides his hand under his jacket, and my grip tightens around the bat when I hear, "Hands behind your head, or I'll shoot." Sari's voice is stony as he reaches the bloke's back. We have no gun, he's bluffing while improvising—that's proper badass. Chimney doesn't know that and slowly raises his hands, glaring at me.

"We have so much to chat about…" Blimey, I can't remember Chimney's name. Maybe Ollie is right, I just don't fucking care about stupid details like names. "Why did you stalk me?"

He glares at me, his lips tighten.

"Answer him!" Sari's voice turns into an oof when Chimney pushes himself up and headbutts him in a pathetic attempt at escaping. I swing my bat again and land it on the side of the prick's knee, making him stumble. I twist the wooden handle in my hands and push it upward, hitting him under the chin, then I spin and mean-high-kick him right in the gut. He drops on the ground with a moan.

"Angel, are you okay?" I glance at Sari. He has a little blood on his lip, but he doesn't look upset. On the contrary his eyes are shining with…pleasure, and there's a satisfied expression on his face.

No time to open this can of…I don't even know if there would be worms in it or something utterly different.

"You were great, Angel. What did you use as a fake gun?"

"The lipstick you gave me." He smiles, showing me the Chanel Rogue Coco Gloss tube.

"Just superb," I add in a little French accent.

Clover turns Chimney on his belly with a hard push of his foot—the prick is a tall bloke, so third time is the charm—and yanks his hands back. He grabs his right wrist—his dominant hand, which Chimney used to smash my face in the underground garage—and twists it, hard. I hear a popping sound and, then another one. I muffle his scream, pushing his face against the cement ground.

"Bup-bup-bup-bup! Don't bother my hen!" I grind his cheek harder on the dirty cement. "Nice moves," I tell Clover.

He shrugs. Such a humble ninja.

"Get my wallet and scram, low lives," he hisses. I saw the recognition in his eyes before. He knows very well who I am.

"Wednesday got it already." I take it from her beak and go through it, tossing the contents one-by-one on the ground. How many strip joint's business cards can a bloke keep? "Only one-hundred-dollar bills? Who are you, Willy Wonka?"

"Who?" Sari asks. I part my lips to explain, but decide to let it go. Sari needs more fun in his life. Much more fun.

"Ronny Salas," I read on his driving license.

"It's our guy," Clover confirms.

I pat R—the prick's jacket and find a knife and a cell phone. I leave the cell on the ground and keep a grip on the knife. I roll him over, bloody-face up—with Clover's help—as he groans in pain. I crouch down and push the blade of the knife to his cheek—not grabbing his hair this time, because my nail polish is fucking fabulous and ruining it would be a Shakespearean tragedy.

"Now let's try again. Why did you attack and stalk me?" I growl.

"Don't know who you fucking are," he moans.

"Talk," Sari interjects. That domineering voice comes out again, and I almost let out a "yes, sir."

"Fuck you!" Chimney doesn't sound as equally impressed.

The tip of the blade digging slowly in his cheek makes him grunt and curse, but still no words.

We don't have much time so tough love it is.

I remove the bloody knife and lift Wednesday from the ground, while Clover sits on Chimney holding his good arm.

"My little lady here loves to peck at soft things, like worms and eyeballs." His eyes widen with shock. "She doesn't stop until she gets to all the gooey, juicy parts." I let the threat float in the air for a second. "Sari, be a dear and keep his eyes open for me. Hope you know where to buy a pirate eye patch."

"Don't you fucking come near me!" He twists and wiggles his body, trying to push Clover and Sari off him. His frightened gaze flickers from my smiling face to Wednesday's red eyes. "Stop! I said stop!"

I move my hen's beak closer, performing a perfect psycho-villain chuckle. "Talk!"

"Bart and Frederick Dorridge!" he yells the names of the two lawyers Gabe fired. "They paid me to roughen you up and then take you someplace." The maggots wanted to get their revenge on me.

"Where?" I push my stiletto heel right on his groin.

"I don't know," he cries. "I was supposed to get the location after I got you. But I never did because of that fucking guy in the suit who doesn't take his eyes off you for even one second."

"Seems like Gabe is lassoed, " Clover jokes.

"You mean hooked, he's hooked," Sari tries.

"Why would I say that?" Clover makes a disgusted face. "That would hurt him."

I open my mouth, but my eyes are caught by the sight of a furious Uri walking forcefully toward us, eyes zeroed in on Sari. He stops in front of him, grabs his face, and then proceeds to suck his bloody lower lip inside his mouth. Sari's eyes almost fall out of their sockets for how much they widen.

My mouth turns slack at the scene while Clover whistles suggestively. It lasts a few seconds, but bloody hell that was hotter than hot.

"Who did this to you?" Uri growls in Sari's face.

"Him! Him!" I point at the bloke under Clover, who, seeing Uri's enraged expression, visibly tries to make himself smaller.

"Let him go," Uri hisses, dropping his hand from Sari's face, his blazing eyes focused on R…R… Damn it. I don't care what his name is, he'll be dead anyway.

Clover takes a step back, letting Uri's boot come down on Chimney's nose first, breaking it, then his left hand. A bone-crushing sound mixed with his scream makes a couple of people turn our way, but Clover pulls out a badge from his messenger bag, stating that this is a police matter.

"Fake?" I ask from the corner of my mouth.

"No," is his succinct response.

Wednesday is starting to fuss, so I lift her in my arms. She instantly calms down.

Uri has Chimney by the neck now, his face is painted with blood, eyes closed, mouth slack, The kidnapping van stops near us and Hunter and Rami get out.

"Only the antichrist could have come out from C-3PO and a gremlin." Rami waves at Wednesday as Hunter opens the back door of the black van.

I flip him off. "I'll sic her at you, Reacher." I hear the thump Chimney's body makes when it hits the metal inside the van.

"What are you doing here?" Sari asks Uri with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks…upset? Don't know what's with him tonight.

"That fucker came after you again. That's why I told you to stay!" I hear Bez's raspy voice first, then he jumps down from the van, wearing a pair of worn jeans, black boots, a gray t-shirt that makes his eyes pops, and that sexy beanie.

"And I told you, I'm not a dog," I retort, as he stops in front of me. His scent makes me relax instantaneously. "Did you follow me?"

"No. Serena did," he says, without an ounce of shame.

"Don't get all goblin-y on him. In his defense, Gabe has Serena on you every time you set a foot out of his apartment." Rami smirks, happy to have gotten his brother in trouble.

"What the fuck! I thought I've been clear enough with you two, I don't need a bloody knight. I can take care of myself." I push on his chest. He's lucky I have Wednesday and I don't want to jostle her, otherwise, I'd have jumped on him and had him in a headlock in two seconds flat.

"I know," Gabe replies, his condescending answer is getting old.

Self-assertive, patronizing, high and mighty, overbearing dick!

"No, you don't!" I poke his pec now.

"Show them who's the boss!" Rami cheers. I'll get him later.

"What were you doing here?" It's Bez again.

"I've never heard them switch like this." Sari's voice is filled with awe.

"If you think I'll answer to your tosser coalition against me…" I start replying to Gabe and Bez, but Clover cuts me off, adding himself to tonight's archenemy list.

"Lori almost killed us driving us here after he lured the bartender from Crimson with the pretense of a date. The stalker encounter was purely accidental."

I can hear Gabe's teeth cracking as his icy eyes turn to hellfire—Bez again—as they notice my sexy attire. "The fuuuuck!" he roars, but before he can grab me, I spin around and stomp my way to the bar.

Like they can tell me what to do and where to go. If I need to show them what I'm made of, I'll bloody do it. Right the fuck now! I want to be part of their family business, and I will. I always get what I want. Always!

The bar door suddenly bangs open, and out comes the bartender with his bushy eyebrows. "Hey, curly. I was looking for—" His words stop as his eyes fall on Wednesday screeching in my arms. Then they jump up to my face and stop on something behind me.

I hear a threatening growl. Bez. Fuck! It makes the bartender take a step back before he turns and runs to his car.

"Great! Look what you've done!" I scold him. The bartender jumps in his tiny car and turns on the engine when Hunter's herculean body appears in front of the car. He raises his heavy booted foot and kicks the hood with his heel. A deafening bang resounds in the street followed by the pop of the airbag going off, hitting Caterpillar Brows gloriously in the face.

I'm frozen on the sidewalk. Stunned. "That was fucking brilliant!"

"That's my grizzly!" Rami is clapping, running to his boyfriend. "You'll get a reward for this," he adds suggestively.

The bartender's body is limp on top of the steering wheel.

"It's not a reward if it's already mine." Hunter's gruff voice is followed by the sound of a loud kiss.

"Tom Cruise has nothing on us!" Clover declares.

"He'll have a major headache when he wakes up," Sari comments, looking at the bartender with a scrunched-up expression.

"I'm hyped! Lori, you promised me a drink and a dance," Clover reminds me.

"We need to interrogate him. Both of them," Gabe says from behind me, his monotone voice has a slight angry hiss to it. I want to vent my fury so damn much. I've been looking forward to entering the FUNS room, but not like this. I want Gabe and Bez next to me as equals. To see me as an equal, not a frail thing that needs to be monitored.

Ahhhhh!

I'm still fuming at Clover for throwing me under the bus before, but I'm more enraged with Gabe and Bez and the way they join forces against me. "You do that, we'll go have fun, and if you arses try to stop me, I swear I'll move out." I look at Gabe straight in the eyes to let them both know I mean it.

Again, Bez's snarl comes out. I can almost see the inner fight my boys are having.

"You're my boyfriends, not my captors!" I tell them. I can see the exact moment the statement registers because Gabe's, or maybe Bez's, breath halts. I'm too furious to care.

I take advantage of it and jog toward my car—with a very upset Wednesday. My Adam's apple feels so big that I don't think I can actually talk around it.

"Fuck, no! Stop, Lori," I hear Clover. I turn with my hand on my car handle as he whistles, pushing his fingers inside his mouth, and a taxi magically stops a few feet from him.

"Sari, come on!" he calls him, who, without hesitation, walks toward us. As the taxi starts to move, I see Uri coming out of the van with an unhappy—and kind of scary—expression. Gabe is still where I left him. He'll take care of my car, or fuck, I'll come get it tomorrow.

I push down the window and move my head out to tell the bros, "Oh, the prick was paid by the Skid Mark brothers to kidnap me." Gabe's head snaps toward me. He opens his mouth, closes it again, and then clenches his fists, all the muscles in his arms bulging on either side of his chest. How does anyone have muscles like that under a t-shirt? It's so bloody unfair.

I pull my head back inside. "We need to leave Wednesday home," I remind Clover.

The taxi takes a left turn, and Gabe disappears from view. My chest aches the more distance I put between us.

I look at Clover and Sari whirling and twirling on the dance floor from the inner balcony on the second floor of the club. I have a Bloody Mary in my hand, and I've told four blokes to sod off already—almost breaking a groping fucker's finger.

All my anger has gone, replaced by disappointment. Will Bez and Gabe ever accept the fact that I'm capable of defending myself? I know it's their way to show me they care and blah, blah, blah. I on the other hand don't care. I want to be respected. I found out I like to be submissive-ish in bed with them, but I won't tolerate being babied outside of it.

"I'm here!" Ollie's voice from behind me makes me smile and surprises me at the same time. "We have around thirty minutes before my beast of a husband comes here with reinforcements to drag us out." I scoff at Rague's possessiveness, but the truth is that I crave Bez's troglodytic ways just as much as Gabe's conniving ones.

"Why are you here?" I ask.

"Sari called, said you were mopping the floor with your long face or something like that."

Sweet idiot.

"So? Wanna talk?" he adds.

"I always need to talk to you," I tell him.

"What, are you sick of talking with the magic mirror on the wall?" he teases.

"How long have you been sitting on that?" I sniff at my bestie.

"A month."

"Prat!" I cuss at him.

"Don't be snippy. You're using your mean voice," he accuses me.

Am I? "No, I am not."

"Mean voice again," he singsongs.

"Why did you make him come?" I ask the universe.

"To talk about your three-way crazy relationship of course.You've never disliked someone like you do Gabe."

"I don't dislike him." Not anymore.

"But you did…hate him?"

I don't think I ever did. "Pleeease. I have a list of archenemies, Gabe doesn't even reach the top ten."

"A list?" Clover asks, suddenly appearing near us, as he passes one of the two drinks he's holding to Ollie.

"Joel Spielberg or Spolger in fifth grade, I freed the poor bees he had in his garage after tying him to a chair. He went into anaphylactic shock."

"It was Joseph Springer ," Ollie interrupts me. "I forgot, why did you almost kill him?"

My boyish grin comes out at the memory. "He kept bullying me. Nobody tried after that. Mark J. or Michael J. in ninth grade, he stole my pink cotton cardigan, it was the most beautiful piece of clothing I owned. I kicked him in the balls and then fucked his boyfriend. Jeff something, a classmate in my paralegal course, he told the teacher I cheated on a test because he was jealous of my grades. I had to retake the test, and he was kicked out when the school found out he was into bestiality."

"Was he really?" Clover snorts while Ollie shakes his head.

"He had some weird videos on his laptop. I don't really want to get into that." I need to bleach my eyes periodically, but it always comes back.

"You want to hear what I think?" Ollie says.

"Not really."

"You have to, Clover made me come to this trashy club because you're pouting like a brat while I could be in bed with my hot-as-fuck husband."

"Does he ever take his dick out of you, or he leaves it there and reattaches himself—Ouch!" He pinches my arm.

"Listen! It was self-fucking-protection. You've liked Gabe from the first time you saw him, but you were scared shitless of what you were feeling. Then his other…side showed himself and…"

"It stirred your inner desires." Clover's words make me snort this time. Fuck, this second Bloody Mary is strong. Third?

"They stirred my inner murderer," I counter.

"Your inner serial slut." I purse my lips at Ollie's comeback.

"Says the ex-slutbag," I counter.

"I'm trying to put lipstick on a monkey here." Clover leaves me confused.

"You mean pig? Lipstick on a pig," Ollie clarifies.

"Pigs hardly have lips," Clover states.

"It's because pigs are ugly," I say.

"They are not." I agree with Clover, I was just explaining why the saying uses pigs instead of monkeys.

"And monkeys aren't?" Ollie frowns at us.

"American sayings are stupid," he mumbles. Clover is half-Japanese. His English pronunciation is perfect, his wording not so much.

"You love them, Lori, admit it," Ollie suddenly says.

Did he really use the L-word? Lurve?

"Do you smell toast, coz I think you're having a stroke, mate." I grab his arm with fake worry. He bats it away.

"Let me rephrase that, you mule. You care for them," Ollie insists.

"No," I lie through my teeth. I fucking do, but I'm so upset with them right now, the anger comes back up like bile.

"I can ask Rami to bring your denial file to add more to it," Clover taunts me.

"Go jump off a cliff."

"If I want to die, I'll just get into a car with you behind the wheel." He sticks his tongue out at me.

I fake a laugh and flip him the bird.

"How is he still alive when he drives like a pill-popping chihuahua?" Ollie talks to Clover like I'm not even here.

"Gabe had a lot of courage when he gave him back the wiener mobile," Clover adds to it.

"Or maybe he's just crazy enraptured."

"Wankers, the both of you. You done? No, let me rephrase that: you done!" I declare, giving them my back.

I suddenly feel Ollie's body against my spine. He's taller than me, stronger, and the best friend I could ever find. I hate him!

"I don't think you listened to me," he whispers.

"What's that?" I yell, earning another pinch on my forearm. They hurt like hell.

"I hear you. I'm just choosing not to listen."

"I know you care, more than care about them. Don't lie to me again, I can read you like the romance books on my Kindle Fire. You're scared, and you feel inadequate. You want to show them, but mostly yourself, that you are worth it. And you are, Lor. You've always followed your path even when it turned terrible, when Gran…" He stops as his voice breaks. And I feel that hole inside of me again, the one that almost disappears when I'm with my boys. They fill that void with their attentiveness and their dominant behavior and…just their presence.

Ollie talks again. "What you did was out of love, a selfless act that showed your devotion. Accept it as love. Stop losing yourself over it."

"When did you turn so wise, Yoda?" I try to lighten my mood, which has plummeted to the bottom of the ocean.

"Daily injections of happiness help."

"Are we talking about cum injections… Ouch! Stop pinching me."

"Stop finding sexual allusion in everything I say. I'm being serious. The bros are possessive fuckers, you can't change that. Raph, Rague, Rami, Bez and Gabe, Uri, all stubborn and unreasonable at times, and when they care, it borders obsession."

"Like you aren't with Rague." I turn around to look at him in the face.

"Of course, I am. Have you seen him?" He has an idiotic, lovesick expression on his face. Do I have the same one when I think about my boyfriends?

"I just want them to see that I can be like them. That I'm strong and capable and…good."

"Good-ish," Ollie teases me. And I let it pass. "You're amazing, Lori. I hope you can feel that."

"Like a hammer to the head," I deadpan.

He rolls his eyes. "Gran would tell you the same if she was here."

"She'd hit my head with a newspaper and tell me to stop festering in the corner while threatening to sweep me out of the house with the other bugs." My smile is sad, and she wouldn't want that either. So, I add, " Did Clover-bell tell you what happened with Uri and Sari?"

Ollie shakes his head, and I retell the mind-blowing lip-sucking incident.

His shocked expression mirrors my previous one. And as I look down at the dance floor again, I see Sari dancing with a very cute bloke. They're plastered to each other, mimicking a grinding movement that makes me see stars when Gabe does it against me.

"Now let's go dancing." Clover reappears near us, and I decide to let go for a while and just go with the flow of the music.

"Whoop-de-fucking-doo," I cheer before downing the last of my drink. We descend the stairs to the first floor, and before we get swallowed by the dancing crowed, I hear Clover say, "Let's make a Reuben sandwich!"

What the hell is that?

GAbrIEL/BEZALIEL

I find him straight away. Dancing flush against Clover.

That's vertical fucking! Bez roars, taking over.

I shove a guy to the side that obscures them from me for a second, and as I reach them, I let out a menacing growl. They stop moving, staring at me, Clover smirking, my Little Wasp frowning.

"Look at that jealous scowl," Clover remarks. "What the hell kind of blow jobs do you give, Lori?"

The thought of my Little Wasp on his knees for someone else enrages me to no end. I move closer to him, grasp his ass, and hoist him up so he's forced to circle my hips with his legs. I turn toward the exit and walk with only one thought inside my head: making him mine.

"Just for the record, I'm asexual," I hear Clover yell behind me.

Didn't expect that , Gabe comments.

"Didn't expect that," Little Wasp echoes him. When I open the exit door, his little hands let go of my neck and start pulling on my earlobes. Hard.

"You did your caveman act. Now let me down!" he demands.

"The fuck, I will. And I'll never, NEVER let you move out."

He won't, Gabe states.

"You're fucking mad if you think I'll let you lay down the law, Bez." Lori punches my chest, looking daggers at me. My cock turns so fucking hard under his glare.

"You won't leave us!" Gabe snaps, feeling as possessive of Lori as I'm.

"This is madness!" Lori exclaims. "Gabe, Bez put me down!"

"No." I snarl. "I'll fuck some sense into you. I'm so damn hard that I'm about to rip through my jeans." My confession makes him freeze in my arms just as I expected. I find a dark corner outside the club perfect for what I have in mind and push his back hard against the brick wall.

"Fuck!" he gasps.

Easy, Bez, Gabe scolds me.

But I know he loves it when I'm rough, and I need to show him he cannot fuck around unless it's with us.

He also likes when I simply hold him, Gabe insists with his point. I hate to clarify things.

Yeah. You hold him, and I manhandle him. Why do you think he's a damn nympho for us? He can have both worlds.

"You never said anything about being exclusive. You fuck me every night, stuff my throat in the office, you use me and then don't listen to me. So now it's my turn to use someone else—Ow! The fuck!" My teeth sink into the still-raw bruise on his neck; he whimpers, but I feel his cock hardening against my abs.

I pull his slutty skirt even higher than it already is and slide the little pack of lube out of my jeans pocket, opening it with my teeth and pouring it on my fingers.

A hard thrust, and I shove two fingers all the way in, they go deep since we've been fucking his arse two or three times a day for the last two weeks. And he takes them this time too, breaking off in a beautiful, ragged cry.

"This is where Gabe and I fuck," I growl in his face, scissoring my fingers the way that makes his eyes roll. "This hole. And this hole," I spear my tongue inside his mouth and give it a long lick before pulling back. His lips follow mine, eyes filled with lust. My beautiful wasp. "No other fucker does that, ever."

I add a third finger and start fucking him. I feel his heart beating like crazy against my chest. But then he bites my lower lip, and the sting goes straight down to my leaking cock. I growl, and he bites me again, lapping at the indent he's made with his warm tongue. He tastes sour and sweet.

"Take my cock out," I order, as I keep moving my fingers in and out. He does what I tell him, pulling his dick out of his jockstrap as well. I thought his choice of underwear was ridiculous, but fuck, I love what easy access I have to his hole.

"More lube in my pocket."

He grabs the other pack and pours it on our cocks, starting a furious tempo with his smooth, soft hands. The feel of his dick rubbing against mine is damn amazing. I groan as he bites my right nipple through the shirt's fabric hard enough to send a perfect sting that lodges behind my balls.

"Why didn't you tell me that fucker stalked you? I had to hear it from Rague," I let Gabe say, as I'm enjoying the bliss of feeling his hands jerking me off and his inner walls strangling my fingers every time I drag them out.

"I already told you," he pants, throwing his head back. "You d-don't listen. Ahhh, right there! Don't need a white prince saving me."

"Don't get confused now, we are no fucking prince. We are the ogre ready to eat you whole."

I add another finger to prove my point. The fourth one. In this position, he's at our mercy, unable to move much, pinned to the wall, speared on my fingers. His eyes widen, but he keeps bouncing on them, and his hands don't stop the frotting.

Gabe's phone rings, but he doesn't pick up. He can use our right hand, but he prefers to mold and knead our Little Wasp's body instead.

Pull his nipple , I tell him. As Gabe does it, he arches and moans loudly against me.

"Yeah, let everybody hear how much you like to be finger fucked by your boyfriends."

"Yes!"

He's ours. Putty in our hands.

Fucking ours , Gabe repeats.

"Scratch my back, want to bleed for you," I tell him darkly. I'd fucking bleeding to death for him.

He lifts one hand as the other keeps its up-and-down movement and slides it inside my t-shirt. He sinks his nails deep and makes an aching path down my back again and again.

I turn fucking feral and start driving my fingers hard and fast, hitting his prostate each time. He goes rigid, I feel his cock swelling against mine, heat rolls from his slit down my shaft as he comes, making dirty noises I want to hear for the rest of my life.

"Use both hands on my cock again." My growly demand is quickly fulfilled. "Mine is the only dick that'll ever fuck inside your ass. Mine the only cockhead you'll ever choke on. Mine the only cum that'll ever fill your holes. Am I clear?"

His eyes move to mine, and the blazing fire there does it for me. His teeth dig into my pec, and my orgasm barrels into me like a fucking freight train. My cum shoots from my cock, and I bellow, "You're mine!"

"And mine," Gabe grunts.

"No, you are mine. Both of you, obstinate idiots. My men," he hisses, as I hold my fingers deep inside his gaping hole.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck yeah. That's it. Work the head. Jesus!" Jizz keeps coming out, draining my balls empty. "Such a good cock pleaser. Yeah, lick our mixed cum off your fingers, suck them dry."

I jerk one last time and capture his mouth to taste us together on our tongues before letting Gabe take charge.

This is your hold-him time, I tell him before pushing back.

"I just want you to see me, really see me as your equal," Lori whispers angrily. His amber eyes wet.

"Lori," I whisper, low and rough. I cup his face and look him straight in the eyes. He gives me a sad, watery smile. And then buries his face into my neck. His arms wrap tightly around my neck, his chest heaving against mine. His fingers grip my hair.

He came into my life and invaded every corner. Reaching inside my chest, my heart, to my very soul. He ripped it open, releasing the fire I locked within a long time ago.

"I'll never let you go," I whisper on his curls. I feel his long, warm sigh on my skin. His soft lips leave a delicate kiss on my neck.

The ringing of my cell cuts through the rest of my words.

"I can't move," Lori mumbles. "I'm stuck on your fingers and pinned down."

Is he complaining? Bez teases.

I pull out my digits. He moans, gripping my t-shirt and I feel the urge to hold him against me longer.

We slowly untangle ourselves, and I'm buttoning my jeans up when my phone goes off again.

It's Rami. And what he tells me feels like a knife to the heart.