Five

five

LORI

A few days later, I'm having a coffee with Ollie at our usual café downtown, talking about very important issues.

"It's a nuclear turnoff when a guy oh so delicately jerks the gherkin using only three fingers around his cock. I mean, it's called slap the ham sandwich for a reason," I tell him, taking a sip from my cup.

"Ugh! I get it, I get it! You've got such an evocative way with words!"

I grin ghoulishly at Ollie's wincing face.

"I still think shrimping is the worst," he adds.

"Oh yeah, that bloke who attacked your feet," I remember out loud one of Ollie's quickies going bad—before he was married to KKJ.

He nods. "How could he want to suck on a one-night stand's toes? I could've flip-flopped my way around in pig's shit during the day for all he knew."

"Or worked in a public pool," I state, pretending to gag—because skin fungus. Enough said.

"Eating at Red Lobster and asking for endless shrimp will never be the same for me."

"Queening on the other hand, it's such an in-your-face behavior, I love it," I joke, wiggling on my chair. My bussy is not sore anymore, and I'm still horny as a junkyard dog.

"You mean Kinging?" Ollie smirks.

I pucker my lips in thought. "I suppose you're right, since we're blokes and we sit on another man's face for it."

"And talking about blokes , Noah has been staring at you since we got here." Ollie is talking about the barista I screwed around with a few months back. Noah? I don't really like him, he's a conceited dick, but the blow job he gave me was pretty good and he's got a tight arse.

Right now, though, I just don't feel it. Did the drug break me? My body is in a constant state of arousal, considering how many times I've fondly remembered—mental cough—wanked like a teen entering puberty—mental cough—Gabe's cock. My dick is all chafed for how many times I've remembered it.

I'd be lying if I said that I wouldn't mind my arse being sore again. There's something about feeling that deep, stinging sensation that sends a little jolt of pleasure through me, like a reminder of how bloody out of the world it felt.

My phone beeps, and I scramble to check the message with embarrassing speed. I deflate a bit, it's not Gabe, but Octopus Prime, my landlord, reminding me about my eviction.

I can't believe I'm disappointed by his disappearance. He makes my life hell—when he's in it. His overly controlled behavior, haughty ways, and dismissive attitude are so annoying. And I miss it.

I miss HELL.

That's bonkers. It must be a post-drug effect. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Trying to distract myself, I ask, "Wasn't the barista's name Luke?"

"You told us it was Luke, but it's actually Noah, and he's yummy." Ollie eyes the barista. Luke because he looks like Luke Perry.

"And he seemed very interested in you when we got our orders from him earlier. And didn't you tell me he was well endowed?"

I did? "Mm. He may look like a unicorn, but is just a slutty horse." I dismiss him with a wave of my hand.

Ollie snorts. "Ookay. How about Gabe's stunts, then?"

"Stunts?" I repeat slowly, adding a tone of ridicule to the word. "Is that appropriate college lingo, mate? How about coitus preferences? Copulating tastes? Mating proclivities?"

He flips me off with a stifled smile. "Carnal inclinations."

I open my mouth to keep joking around, but he continues, "You didn't tell me anything, dude, which is not like you. I know you have memories of what happened. Are they too painful? I shouldn't push, sorry."

"The pain was unbearable." A light shiver runs down my spine at the memory. "And the pleasure out of this world," I confess.

"Gabe has been sending me a text every day since the club," Ollie lets me know, talking so fast I can hardly understand him.

The idea of Ollie receiving messages from Gabe every sodding day irritates me grandly since I haven't heard a pip from him. After what we went through together, I'd expected a bit of consideration from him. I got nothing.

"Look at you getting all chummy with him," I hiss.

"The texts were about you," my bestie continues, leaving me speechless. "He asks every day if you're okay."

His last word makes me jerk back like a slap to the face. Gabe cares about my well-being? Why did he contact Ollie and not me?

"What happened between you two? I thought he only helped you in a difficult moment, you know, a one-time thing." He looks confused. I am as well.

"It was a one-time thing. But it was also…different," I say lamely, not knowing how to explain what I'm bloody going through.

"Different because of the situation or because of Gabe?"

"Definitely both." I sigh. "He stirred up something in me. My sexual appetite." I wince at my word choice.

"You want to smash Gabe…again?" His eyes widen with surprise.

Do I? "If I get more stirred up, I'll turn into a frozen yogurt, the one with sprinkles and chocolate chips."

Ollie suddenly slaps the small table. "I always thought there was something there between you two! Your dislike was too strong."

"Please!" I shake my head at him. "I disliked him because he acts like a superior jerk to me."

"Disliked…past tense?" He smirks smugly. Idiot. But do I still dislike Gabe after what happened?

A disgusting sight distracts me from my scary thoughts. "Bloody hell, stop slopping mayo on your sandwich!" I scold him. My bestie retaliates by adding even more heart-attack sauce on his food and then proceeds to take a bite and chew it with his mouth open, knowing very well that's one of my biggest pet peeves.

"In My Head" by the Queens of the Stonage start playing in the café, and I hum with it. Love this band.

"How do you feel?" Ollie suddenly asks, thankfully after swallowing.

"Oh, so this is why you wanted to meet me before the others." I narrow my eyes at him.

"Your sassy replies don't work on me, Lor. Answer the question."

Having a person that knows you so well isn't always good. "You're such an askhole ."

"And you're another kind of a-hole. Now spit it out," he snarks back.

"I'm having dreams," I mumble, making him frown.

"Repeat that using a tone that can be detected by human ears," Ollie deadpans.

"I'm having dreams!" I whisper-yell with annoyance.

"What kind of dreams?"

"The kind that, as I wake up in the morning, I don't even need to check my underwear to know the beaver got beaten…without actually getting beaten."

"You mean." He makes a jerking-off gesture with his hand, and I nod. "Wow. Every night?"

"It hadn't happened since I was a teenager." I love sex and the tornado of uncontainable, pleasurable physical feelings that come with it. But this new kind of desire is like a powerful yearning. An urge so overwhelming that can only be fulfilled with sex. It's exciting and scary at the same time.

"And on top of that, I've woken up on the floor, in the shower. Everywhere but the bed."

"Sleepwalking again?" He knows about my past episodes well. He has found me several times in the past doing absurd stuff like cooking or wearing boxers under a somnambulism spell.

"I lock myself inside the bedroom at night. But everything looks the same around me in the morning. Except me."

It takes a few seconds for Ollie to speak again. "You've always fornicated like a satanic squirrel, maybe the drug unlocked a deeper part of your slutty rodent brain."

I flip him off.

Then why don't I want to go fuck—what's the barista's name again?—even though I know he's damn good at that and he'll jump at it if I ask him?

I've never been much into self-reflection. All this thinking is driving me nuts.

"I'll go home tonight," I tell Ollie.

"You don't need to."

"Apart from the sleepwalking, I have an eviction notice. I need to pack and look for another place to live—a place that allows pets."

"You don't. You have your gran's house waiting for you to go back to…"

Every word he's saying feels like acid pouring in my gut. I cut him off. "You know why I can't go back there," I hiss between gritted teeth.

"Then sell it!" he insists. Relentless sod.

"I can't," I growl.

"Lori. You hardly have any money and you live in squalor?—"

"Stop. Just stop!" I raise my voice and bang my fist on the table. The harsh sound catches the attention of some of the people sitting around us, making them turn around. "Oh, bugger off!" I snap at them, glaring at the ones still daring to stare.

Fuck! I close my eyes and take a long breath. "I'm sorry." Then I whisper to Ollie, "I just… Now is not the time for that." When I lift my eyes, Ollie's lips have turned into a thin line, but his eyes are filled with understanding and I hope regret, and not pity. I concentrate on the brown spot covering half of his green iris in his left eye. A clear imperfection that turns his green gaze into something so familiar.

"Okay, but let me at least help you. Stay with us." He turns a pleading look my way.

"I have Wednesday, and she can't live with Pink. Imagine the daily bloody brawls."

"I'd put my money on my cat." A tiny smile makes his lips twitch. Thank the Lord.

"You have your hands full already…with your husband's dick. Also, Brad needs a bed since his father is a twat. And Sully still has nightmares."

"Yeah, don't know what to do about my brother anymore." His voice is filled with worry.

"Let him go to college next semester. Let him live on the campus."

"He barely goes out."

"He's a nerd. He'll do it for a chance at studying. Rami will keep a cyber eye on him, and we'll take turns to go visit him. He needs to fight his fears and find his way."

He nods and covers my hand with his on the table. I push down the impulse to pull it back. I still can't seem to tolerate being touched.

"You're right, I have to trust that he can work things out for himself." Is he talking about Sully or me?

"You're a sneaky bastard, you know that?" I huff. He squeezes my hand and then lets it go, getting back to his uneatable sandwich.

"Hi, Oliver, right?" A guy suddenly appears near our table. "Jeff. We have a couple of classes together." He's tall, tanned, and handsome—and he knows it.

"Oh, hi." Ollie makes his I-don't-remember-who-you-are-but-I'm-pretending-to face.

"Haven't seen you at uni for a while which, was a bummer since I wanted to get your number." He leans toward Ollie and gives him an inviting smile, showing clearly what else he wants to get.

Still is nice to have it spelled out, right? "What for?" I ask him.

Tall and tanned gives me a smug smile and then turns to my bestie again. "To get together. Have some fun." His voice lowers to sultry city on the word fun. The fact that he's flirting so openly with Ollie makes me think that a) he's never seen KKJ, which is weird since Rague goes to pick up Ollie every single bloody time just to show to the whole University he's taken, owned. His. Which takes me to option b) this guy is suicidal. Rague will peel him like a banana and then make a puree out of him.

"I'm married," Ollie says.

Jeff looks at me. "Not to me. I'm not his ball and chain," I tell him.

"I have a boyfriend, no problem at all there. We can still have discreet fun together. You can come too," he tells me as he slides his phone on the table and lets his hand fall on Ollie's arm. "Give me your number."

My bestie turns rigid, a second away from breaking this bloke's fingers—he certainly doesn't need his husband's help to do that.

A plan starts to form in my mind. I look at tall and tanned, and wink. "Oliver here is too shy, but we do need some fun. Let me help us all."

I grab the bloke's phone and register the number in his contacts.

Ollie stares at me suspiciously, but doesn't say anything. He knows all about my malevolent mind—and that I've got his back.

"Later, Oliver and friend." With a last dirty smile, he goes to a table a few feet away from us.

"Well, Oliver," I drawl his name, "aren't you the slutty working bee?"

"Fuck off. Don't even know who that joker is." He drinks his orange juice, glaring at me as he sucks the liquid through the straw. "What did you do, Lori?"

"Whatever do you mean?" I feign ignorance, looking at my sunshine-yellow painted nails.

"You're full of shit! I hope for your sake that Rague never gets a whiff of this."

Oh, but I hope he fucking does.

Tall and tanned suddenly clears his throat, and I look as he mouths the words "check your phone" to Ollie.

A phone beeps, but it's not Ollie's, it's Rague's. He's making his way through the tables as he grabs his cell from his jeans to check his texts. He stops his huge bod near us, blocking the view to the other tables, his brows even more bunched up than usual. My smirk turns into a fully bloomed, devilish smile.

"Why did I just get a text from someone saying that my greedy green eyes are as beautiful as emeralds in the morning light?"

I can't help a low chuckle. I'm not even slightly sorry about it. What can I say? I thrive in watching cocky twat's pain.

"Fuck, Lor!" Ollie jumps from his chair to face his husband. "It's just a prank."

"Yeah, just a guy who wants to have a threesome with Ollie and me," I say casually.

"Lori!" Ollie barks at me. "I swear I'll ruin your damn nail polish…"

Another beep from Rague's phone stops my bestie's empty threat. Rague's face turns to granite, and his eyes fill with murder.

"Who?" he growls at me, and I have to admit the rumbling sound makes my legs shake for a second.

I point at tall and tanned, whose smile is quickly falling off his face.

"Don't fucking move, Kitty." Rague tosses his phone on the table and spins around, incredibly swift for a man of his great size. Each charging step he takes toward the bloke—who looks frozen in his chair—is grim and filled with menace.

I look down at Rague's phone on the table, and I see a picture of a very hard, leaning-to-the-left dick pointing at the screen, followed by the text, "Looking forward to filling your mouth, Oliver." Tall and tanned went from a cheesy approach to a very filthy one within a few seconds.

A snort leaves my mouth because this is exceeding-all-expectations brilliant.

My eyes go back to Rague just in time to see him yank the bloke off his chair and lift his trembling body high. Higher until they are face-to-face. Rague is growling something at him when Ollie jumps and wraps his body around him to stop him from maiming the bloke.

Should I defuse the situation? What the fuck am I thinking, of course not. I'm sure it'll be fine.

Rague abruptly let's go of tall and tanned. And I watch his body hit the floor with a thud. He quickly starts crawling out of the café as I stand up to address the puzzled or utterly afraid people around us.

"Gather some mental decorum, people. It's just a lover's spat!" My voice quivers with suppressed amusement, but I'm successful in stifling my chuckle. Surely I have been convincing enough, as the customers turn to do their own thing—some of them still frowning with disapproval.

I sit back, feeling so damn high. This has been exhilaratingly splendid!

"He fell on the floor like a bag of potatoes! Bam!" I tell Ollie, when they return to sit at the table. Rague is holding my bestie on his lap in a tight grip.

Ollie glowers at me. "You suck."

"Not for free, mate," I counter, earning an angry growl from Rague. Damn, the jealous gorilla.

"Bitch!"

"What are you complaining about? Your husband is going to drill you into the car seat in a few minutes. You should thank me." I cross my arms on my chest, daring Ollie to protest.

"What's going on?" Sari's voice reaches us from behind. His pale blue eyes flicker from me to Ollie and Rague, waiting for an explanation.

"Lori is being a dick, as usual," Ollie mutters.

"I thought I was a bitch." I huff, and then let out a chuckle, remembering how tall and tanned cockroached his way out of the café.

"Are you laughing at me, or is it just a discharge of nervous energy?" Bless Sari and his oblivious, genius brain.

"Rague manhandled a fucker who was probably hitting on Ollie," Uri says, coming up behind Sari. His long dreads are tied in a ponytail today, and his facial piercings shine under the natural light. He's extremely handsome aaand annoying.

"How do you know?" Rague asks him.

"Saw you from the store window." Uri pulls a chair out for Sari and then sits next to him, placing his arm on the back of Sari's. "You should tell Rami to take care of the café security cameras, just in case the guy decides to sue you."

"Also tell him to send the bloke's boyfriend this picture." I grab Rague's phone and tilt it Uri's way, showing him the dick picture still visible on the screen.

Sari gets an eyeful too, and his cheeks turn red. He grabs the end of his long braid with both hands as he keeps staring at the cell.

"He certainly earned your wrath, Rague." Then Uri adds in a mocking tone, "You're a very bad boy, Ollie."

"Fuck you!" he replies, tightening his arms around Rague's tense body. They start kissing and whispering mushy stuff. I think I hear a sugary, gag-inducing "You deserve the universe and all its treasure, Kitty."

Soon, I'll witness chirping birds flying out of Ollie's butt, helping him to get dressed like fucking Cinderella while his gorilla prince fixes the kingdom with his rat friends.

Ollie has become so tamed. Doesn't know how to fuck with people anymore. Rague's dicking turned him dumb. So, the responsibility falls entirely on my shoulders. And I know an undoubtedly infallible way to mess with Uri: Sari.

"I have to go shopping. Angel, I think you need to buy a few items too."

"Um. What kind of items?" Sari looks at me with interest. Since I painted his nails and introduced him to my yoga lessons, he's been eager to discover new things with me—which drives the overprotective Super Model, Uri nutso .

"Lingerie. Rami said you'd like to try lace?" I lean toward him and lower my voice, being extra certain Uri can hear. I owe him for being kind of an arsehole 24/7.

"Y-yea." Sari gets closer to me, he looks embarrassed but on the edge of his seat metaphorically and literally.

"I wear jockstraps, they are easy if you…bottom," I say, enjoying deeply the way Uri is gritting his teeth.

"A twink with a jockstrap." Uri sniffs airily.

The sudden sound of Rague's chair scraping over the floor makes me turn toward him. Keeping Ollie wrapped around him, he leaves the table and they make their way out of the café without saying a word.

"Where are they going?" Sari asks.

"To shag," I tell him. He nods a bit shyly, while Uri doesn't bat an eyelash hearing my answer, we are all blasé with all the fucking going around with the brothers. "So, what would you prefer to wear?"

Unaware of Uri's irritation, Sari tells me, "Hunter tears the lace off Rami. That sounds…sexy."

"My angel is turning into a vixen. Papa Lori's job is almost done." I wipe away a fake tear while Sari lets out a small giggle. Men must climb on top of each other to reach all that innocence. It tempted me when I first met him, but the watchful guard dog near him halted any smidge of desire I had.

I grab my phone from my bag hanging from the chair and quickly find the online store I usually buy from. "This is a great website to get lingerie from, once you know what style you prefer."

Sari opens his mouth, but Uri's bitter words shut him up. "That's ridiculous. You don't need…this!"

I expect Sari to hunch back and turn silent, and he does that for a moment. But in the next, he straightens his back and turns to his stepbrother. "I don't need it, I want it. Like I want to look pretty and-and feel sexy when I go out on a date!"

"Damn," I exclaim.

"Date?" Uri spits the word out. "With whom?"

"None of your business. I'm not a child, and I'll wear lacy panties or even none at all if I like. Back. Off."

"No!" he growls menacingly, getting closer to Sari. "I have every fucking right with you."

"Why? Because you're my brother?" Sari tilts his torso toward him until there's only an inch between their faces. Wow, seeing him so combative is a new development.

"The fuck, I am," Uri replies with an angry grunt.

Bleeding hell! Is Uri into Sari? I can almost see the sparks of sexual tension flying from them, creating small explosions in the surrounding air. I've always seen Uri's overbearingly protective attitude toward Sari as a sociopathic, twisted kind of brotherly love, but perhaps it's just the top of the iceberg—a very complicated iceberg. Or maybe my horny glasses are showing me a distorted reality.

The stare battle keeps going until Uri's phone starts ringing, and he utters a "Fuck!" as he glances at his phone.

"This is not the end of this conversation," he hisses, his heated eyes falling on Sari's lips before he pushes away from the table.

"Hens need clucking without a pompous rooster in the group. Go find a worm!" I tell his back as he leaves to answer the call.

"A group of hens is called a brood," Rague corrects me as he comes back holding hands with a very rumpled Ollie.

"Already back? Didn't take you for a quick popper, KKJ." I wink at him, knowing very well he isn't. I've heard him going at Ollie for fucking hours before they soundproofed their bedroom.

"Let's go get you something to eat, Beastie, before you drop Lori on the floor this time."

Ollie pulls on his husband's hand, and Rague lets him as he mutters, "That stupid fucker deserved to be melted in one of my barrels of acid."

Pretty sure he meant tall and tanned, and not me. Still, I'm glad they have left me alone with Sari. I have a few things I need to ask him without having the others butt in.

He looks lost in his head but replies straight away when I ask, "Do you think there's a possibility I'm still feeling some effects from the drug?"

"Hard to say. What are your symptoms?"

Might as well tell him everything. "Um, I'm mad horny, but at the same time, don't like to be touched."

"Hypersensitivity is quite normal after what you went through. It will wear off."

"Yeah?" I release a relieved breath. "I thought I was holding a one-way ticket to Madville."

"Not at all." He shakes his head vehemently. "You've been overwhelmed with sensations, and while your mind is trying to process them, the body pushes away new ones."

"Then why am I turned on most of the time? Even when I sleep." I whisper the last part.

"Concupiscent dreams. A couple of people who were dosed with this drug had the same issue. Meg and I believe it's because your brain floated on such high levels of oxytocin after all the intercourse, that it craves it back."

"Like an addict?"

"Exactly. The intervals of pain that you suffered increased the pleasure enormously, which acted like an analgesic. That's why your mind is trying to relive it and sleeping is the perfect moment because you're utterly relaxed. Especially during REM phase, your brain activity looks very similar to brain activity while you're awake."

"So my mind and body are totally fucked up at the moment." I don't want to be touched, but I crave a dicking. One dick in particular. "In other words I'm dickmatized," I suddenly exclaim, slumping back into my chair. "His good dick cast a spell and took control over me!"

"Gabe's?" Sari looks for confirmation.

I nod.

"Again, it's kind of comprehensible to become attached to the person who you shared this kind of predicament with."

"If you mean I want to attach his cock to my ass permanently, yeah that's it. And it has to be the drug." Unless being dickmatized is a real thing.

"This drug disappears quickly from a person's system because of all the perspiration while having sex and the multiple orgasms. I presume you sustained them both."

"You presume correctly, Angel." A memory of Gabe's muscular chest covered in beads of sweat, the small drops trickling down his defined abs as he plowed roughly into me, pops into my head. His gray eyes filled with raw pleasure as he came inside me. My cock twitches, and I feel the perspiration hitting me again.

"It happened three days ago, Lori. Give yourself some time. And if the symptoms don't go away, I think you should talk to?—"

"Meg?" I interject.

"Gabe," he says instead.

I snort at Sari's advice. I tried calling him. He didn't pick up that damn phone, and his twit of a new PA told me that Mr. Reed was too busy to take my calls. But he has time to send texts to Ollie regarding my health. He's so bloody irritating!

"What are we talking about?" Ollie utters, sitting back down at the table, followed by Rague.

My unfailing brain spits out a quick reply. "If I'm the twink in this relationship and you're the twunk. Are we the twink-twunk besties? Or the bestwinks? Bestwunks?"

"Who died and made you king of naming things?" Uri asks snarkily, taking his seat near Sari again.

Rague lets out a grunt. "You know he names everything."

"KKJ is right. My dick's name is Robert unless is chilly, then it's Bert. Very cold Bob." I wink at him. Sari giggles while Uri mutters something, but I'm too taken by the sight of a familiar figure with long black hair standing outside the café on the opposite sidewalk.

I hear Ollie's huff. "So glad we arrived for the mature part of the conversation." I'm tempted to stick my tongue out, but that would only be proving his point.

"I'll grab a coffee; anyone want something?" Sari asks.

I shake my head. "The barista, Luke."

"Noah," Ollie corrects me for some idiotic reason.

"I happen to know is very good. Go for it, Angel. He looks like a lace ripper," I purr.

Sari's smile falls as soon as Uri grabs his arm and pulls him toward the counter, holding him close. Now I can see there's something more between the bros. That's hot.

I glance back outside. Chimney, the bloke that attacked me in the underground garage, is still there. His eyes on the café window where I'm sitting. Coincidence?

"Ollie, do you remember when I told you about the prick that jumped me after work a few days ago?" I use a casual tone.

Rague hums, taking a bite of his burrito.

"You just hinted at it on the phone, while yesterday, you went on and on about your crazy theory that your landlord is a pod person for an hour."

"But he must be, always checking my ass out like he wants to probe it! Those beady eyes and that freakishly long tongue."

"Tell me everything!" He uses a commanding tone, to which I sigh.

"I thought I did. I mean he also has very small feet. I?—"

"Not your disgusting landlord. The guy that jumped you!"

"Oh, okay." I start the retelling of the attack, embellishing it with my flawless narrative skills.

"He's outside right now," I add when I'm done.

"He is?" Rague frowns, but doesn't turn to look.

"Not so casually smoking a cigarette near the post office." Hence the name chimney. He must smoke at least a couple of packs to stink that much.

"You got a stalker? That's creepy," Ollie states as Rague's big body moves closer to him—he activated protective mode.

"How many times do I have to remind you that you stalked your hubby?"

"That was different… I didn't have any disturbing thoughts." Ollie's eyes fall on his juice cup.

"Please, you had a taste of his gorilla cock and craved more. If that isn't a dirty thought?—"

"Dirty, not disturbing," he cuts me off, looking all offended.

"Let's focus on the current stalker," Rague interjects.

"Where's Reacher? Isn't he coming?" I ask.

"Rami is busy with Opal and Hunter intercepting another shipment of drugs. He's trying his hardest to stop Phoenix's minions from testing it on people. Another two patients have ended up in the hospital with your same symptoms in the last three days."

Damn it. I really hope they had a Gabe as well near them when they were dosed. The thought of being alone and defenseless in the hands of malevolent strangers makes dread and fear try to engulf me. Rami is right; we have to stop them.

"We need to talk about what to do going forward. You bros keep telling me to rest, which enrages me. I want to whack people."

"Did you just use the word whack ?" Ollie sounds incredulous.

"Yes, it needs to have a glorious comeback." I skip the duh at the end.

"No, it needs to stay where it is, in Oblivion City."

"I still want to whack people, preferably the ones related to my predicament," I spit out between my gritted teeth.

"How? The brothers are all insanely protective morons," Ollie agrees with me, sending a glare toward his husband.

"Kitty, you're still angry about me trying to stop you from going into the sex club. But I didn't, you went in and got Lori back," Rague patiently says, grabbing Ollie's hand. "My insanely protective side is for your own good."

"Said the red haze monster," I cough the words inside my fist. Can't believe he wanted to make my bestie wait outside when he's a great fighter.

"Rague is much better now!" Ollie comes to his hubby's defense, but then turns to him with a scowl, "Don't you ever try to keep me out again!"

"Let's get back to the stalker." Rague looks eager to change topic.

"Let's ask Serena. Rami has already too much on his plate." I shake my head at Ollie's suggestion and dial Dare's number instead.

"I have a better idea."

"Lori," he answers the phone straight away.

"Hey, Offspring Three. How is it, working for Reacher?" Dare started working for Rami at his video game design company and has sort of learned the hacker part as well to help as a cyber techie at Hunter and Opal's P.I. agency.

"Great." Dare isn't the talkative type, but between his two bros yakking on and on all day I do understand his inclination to silence.

"Hey, Lori."

"Clover-bell?"

"Yep."

Clover is a very skilled thief who works for the bros at times. His peculiar behavior, lack of filter, and at times, tactless and logical thinking call to me. He's a straight-up weirdo, not the best at reading facial cues. We have shot the shit a few times and bond over rock music and gory movies.

"Didn't know you were back, mate. How was Japan?"

"Rainy and sweet," is his odd reply. "Letting the darkness into your soul is bad chakra, by the way."

"Uh, wise words. Where do they come from?" I ask.

"Dunno. I think I heard it in a movie once, and after Rami told me what happened to you, I thought it was fitting." See what I mean? Impossible not to get sucked in by his nonsense.

"Okay. I'm calling because I need Dare to find out who my stalker is." I see Ollie opening his arms toward the sky in what looks like a strength-seeking prayer.

"Your yoga marble ass strikes again," Clover cheers.

"Indeed." I smile proudly.

"Like having a stalker is a goal everybody should aspire to." Ash's irritated statement hits my ear.

"Offspring One! How's your horrible day going?" Ash is rude, boorish, and always annoyed by something. Classic teenaged boy.

"Fucking late for my shift at the tattoo parlor," he grumbles. He started working at a shop not so far from my apartment. Uri put in a good word with the owners. But Ash has talent, so much that I'm thinking to let him ink me next.

"Ash's car broke down," Clover explains.

"And I'm fucking waiting for someone to tell me where his car keys are," Ash hisses.

"On the table behind you," Dare replies, unbothered by his brother's mood. "Lori, do you have a place for me? For the stalker."

"The Loop District, State Street. He's standing near a post office, on a side street in front of Hot he had an alibi."

"A sleazy dude," Clover comments.

"Thanks. And keep this among us, please," I tell Dare. Don't want the bros' sausage fest to ruin my style. They'll find out soon enough when Rague spills the beans.

"Got it," Dare replies. I don't need to wait for an answer from Clover, I trust him.

"Ta-ta." I hang up and tell Rague and Ollie what Dare found out.

"I think I'll go have a chat with my stalker," I say suddenly.

"Is this one of your knee-jerk reactions?" Ollie leans toward me.

"If you want to be literal, mate," I joke, while thinking that a knee in the balls is not such a bad suggestion. He grabs his backpack and silently passes me his brass knucks under the table.

"Wait for Uri. He's outside." Rague points at the store window on the street where Uri and Sari are fighting again by the way they're glaring at each other. Again, with this overprotective madness.

"It looks like it is going to take a while. I don't want the stalker to leave!"

"I'll come with you, then," Rague says.

"Fuck no! Don't need a bodyguard." I'm going to ambush the fucker this time.

"You sure? Gabe helped you in the parking garage," he reminds me. Jerk!

"Look at all the potential suitors ogling your Kitty." I move my arm around the room. "Are you sure you want to leave him defenseless and theirs for the taking?" I see Ollie's green eyes roll in my periphery as I'm tricking his husband into staying put. He deserves it.

And when Rague mumbles something sulkily under his breath, taking a slow glaring look around the café in a way that surely has the men here shaking in their boots, I know I got to him. It's so easy to manipulate him.

I quickly sneak toward the bathrooms where the backdoor exit is. I push the door open and find myself in a narrow alley. I wear the brass knuckles as my ankle boots take me to the end of the narrow street, but when I peek out to the sidewalk, Chimney is not there.

"Damn it to hell!" I curse as I make my way out onto the street. I look right and left, but nothing. I glance at Ollie and Rague through the store window, but they shake their heads at me. Uri and Sari are nowhere to be seen.

I was looking forward to venting all my sexual frustration on that stalkerish bellend. Now I'm grandly pissed off.

I grab my phone and call Dare again. But he can't find my stalker anywhere. It's all in Serena's hands now.

Big, hairy, asymmetrical bollocks!

The next day I'm at the firm. Gabe is still not answering his phone, so I decided to go directly to the egotistical, supercilious source. I exit the elevator at the top of the lord's castle and smile at a busy Belinda at the reception desk.

Gabe runs a tight ship, if this was eighteen hundred there would be torch-wielding villagers outside. But he's quite fair when he needs to be.

I don't know how to interpret his contradictory behavior toward me. Does he want to leave the whole occurrence behind? Avoiding me doesn't seem like him though.

Does he have concupiscent dreams assailing him at night as well? I still feel like an oversexed poodle. I can't let myself think about it, about the way he fucked me. Our hips aligned, grinding. His fingers tightening around my wrists where he pinned them over my head. His hard body holding me down. His long—enough!

Gabe is tall, yes. And strong—didn't expect those defined abs on him or that monstrously long dick that can hit my prostate just right. He has a face that might remind me of a beautiful, sadistic angel. He commands attention and has a stern voice that makes shivers run down my spine. Am I making a point? Or just listing all the things that make my dick twitch when I think about him?

Ugh!

The truth is that he took a front-row red-velvet seat in my mind. But as Sari said, it's totally normal. A few more days, a visit to my favorite club, and a ride on a stranger's lap, and I'll be good as new. I won't be utterly taken by this infatuation anymore, because it will be gone.

I tell my brain to take a hike and remind myself why I came to Gabe's office.

I have to thank him for what he did. And I need to do it face-to-face because the moment I see him, I'll remember why I disliked him so much, and it'll feel like closure to this whole mess—this and beating Mr. Hot Shot into a pulp. So, even if Gabe doesn't want to meet me, I'm going to shove my appreciation for what he did down his throat.

I stop in front of his PA's desk. She doesn't look up. Her fingers sound like a battle march on the plastic keyboard. Her shiny, blonde hair is loose on her narrow shoulders, falling down her generous cleavage, which is covered by a silk and very revealing white camisole. I can see her long legs peeking out under the desk; her red high heels are stilettos.

Now I understand why Gabe went to Evelyn's office to hand pick his new PA. This must be what he likes? Blonde, voluptuous, and sending Medusa vibes? My complete opposite.

Crikey! Who cares. Who CARES!

I already loathe her for the way she dismissed me over the phone. But then her cold eyes give me a quick, disdainful once-over—surely finding me lacking since slutty PA is definitely not my style—before rudely going back to her computer. Wicked, murderous feelings start to spread inside my chest.

After a long minute of me staring at her, she asks, "Can I help…you?" Her voice couldn't have been more uninterested and fake.

I take a big breath and remind myself that clawing Medusa's face, although it would give me unimaginable pleasure, it would also ruin my silver pearl nails. "Lori Boone, I want to talk to G—the boss."

She keeps clacking on that infernal keyboard as she replies, "You don't have an appointment."

She's just pouring fuel on my blazing temper with her snobbish attitude. Evelyn must be really scraping the bottom of the PA's barrel. "I tried to make an appointment over the phone a few days back, but you told me that his earliest free slot is in two months."

"And for you, it is." She emphasizes the you. Does she hate me on principal, or has Gabe instigated her against me? The thought irritates me even more. Like smoldering coals, my anger keeps burning under the surface until the flames reach the tips of my fingers.

I press a hand on her desk and lean threateningly toward her. My smile is evilly sweet. "I don't need an appointment, dearie." I filled the endearment with poison. "And before you move the filler in your lips again, have you ever noticed that assistant has the words ass and ant in it? I admire ants, they are very hard workers and can carry twenty times their weight. But when someone makes an ass of themselves, it is just deeply…vexing. And do you know what I do to people that vex me?" I pause for effect, and it works beautifully. "I get even."

She has plastered herself to the back of her chair, eyes wide as she grips the armrest tightly.

I straighten back up and smooth my red shorts before talking to her again. "Now do your bloody job properly by announcing my presence to your boss. Because I'm going to get inside that office whether you do it or not."

She scoffs and swallows, but I hear her hurriedly tell "Mr. Reed" through the intercom on her desk that a very rude and inappropriate man is about to enter his office as I approach the door. She utters the word security, but indifferent to the threat, I turn the knob anyway and push. It's not until I hear Gabe's deep voice that my pulse kicks in my jugular.

"Don't. It's fine," he says, using his unfazed tone. My dick twitches and stands to attention, like he recognizes his sole master. My pucker clenches involuntarily. He fucked me so long and so deeply four days ago that I shouldn't want him again. Ever again.

But one look at him sitting behind the enormous desk, and I feel hot, heavy anticipation building in the pit of my stomach. I stare at him hungrily. Four days without even a glimpse and I feel starved for him.

Get a bloody grip, Lori!

He pins me with a dry and somehow heated look. In the sunlight, his eyes have a sparkly gray hue, anchoring me right where I stand.

He slowly stands, looking dangerous and ruthless. He has a way of moving that resembles a big cat, a fluidity in his hips that makes me recall the way he fucked me. Raw.

I was out of my mind but still enjoyed his bareback dick inside me. That perfect-sized cock—thickness, length, hardness. Fuck! I want to feel it again. In my mouth this time. My cock has its own heartbeat as Gabe comes closer. My reaction to him is as vibrant and strong as ever. And that's when an icy cold sensation starts to run through my veins, as I get a hard punch of reality to the face.

I want him.

This is not an infatuation. And I don't think it'll go away. I'm not even fully aware what it means, but I feel it burning low in my gut. And in the nearly irresistible need to open my legs for him. There's a twitch in my thighs, but I don't move as he rounds his desk and halts a few feet from me.

"Is there a reason why you are barging into my office?" His voice is flat, but his eyes slide down my body like a long, wet lick of his tongue.

His words register, and my brain finally decides to get on board. "I wouldn't have if you'd let me talk to you for a damn minute."

He frowns slightly, and his hands move to grab the edge of the desk. "Here's your minute."

"I just wanted to say thank you, you insufferable bastard," I hiss, taking a step closer.

The silence in the room is deafening after my confession. He just keeps staring at me, looking tense.

Fuck this! Fuck my body and its horny urges.

"Why do I even bother? Maybe I should have written a card and shoved it between your PA's tits, that would have surely gotten your attention," I bark, feeling bile rising up in my throat. "Don't worry, we'll pretend it never happened. I hardly remember any of it anyway,"

His demeanor suddenly changes; it's subtle, but I can…feel it. And see it in his blazing gaze and the wicked curve of his lips. His voice seems different when he talks. "I've finger fucked that tight hole and then come all over you. Your sweet ass still bears the imprint of my dick. Just like your memories do. It fucking happened, Little Wasp."

The nickname catapults me back to that night, to the utter and raw relief that taking him inside me brought, like his cock was the answer to all my prayers. The sensation spreads throughout my body, and for a second, I'm floating. Gabe's lips tilt up at one corner as he studies me, and I'm shocked all over by his willingness to show any kind of emotion.

Once I stop having a stroke from his sexy as fuck—but also confusing—fucked-up response, my ability to speak finally returns. Is he screwing with me?

Folding my arms across my chest, I tilt my chin up. Have to because of our height difference anyway, but I'm sure he knows I mean business. "That was…" The word epic comes to mind, but I toss it away like a pair of bell-bottom trousers. "…an extraordinary circumstance."

"Sure." Is he being sarcastic? He tilts his head to one side, keeping that piercing gaze on me. I feel like he's trying to read my thoughts.

"A one-time thing," I keep saying, which I'd love to repeat two—three—twenty more times.

He hums noncommittally.

"What game are you playing?" I ask him. He's acting like a totally different person. Still a jerk, but more cocky and less uptight. "What is…this?"

My eyes fall on the two open buttons of his white shirt. My mouth floods with drool, remembering how his bare skin tasted against my tongue as I sucked on his exposed torso, bare shoulders, and warm neck. All that skin pressed up against my back.

When his arms drew away from me, and his tip left my hole, slipping free of my body, a sense of loss almost crushed my soul.

What. The. Bloody. Fuck.

I need to leave. I came to say what I wanted to say. And I did. But instead of finding closure, I feel like I lost something. My sanity perhaps. Nah, that was gone a long time ago.

Medusa's annoying voice comes through the intercom, making me jump, "Mr. Reed, Mr. Dorridge—" Her voice is drowned out by the sound of the door banging open and the stomping arrival of one of the Skid Mark's brothers covered in neon green goo on his hair, face, hands, and jacket. He looks like a fluorescent firefly. I'd forgotten about the package I sent him a few days back. This is ace! It's amazing what a mega-size tube of slime and some springs can do.

The arsehole looks spectacularly ridiculous. That's what he gets for cornering the shy new intern. She's nineteen, for fuck's sake. I guess being groping creeps is in the family genes.

I can't stifle my snort, revealing my presence to his angry eyes.

"I want him fired!" He throws his arm out, finger pointing at me.

"Is it arsehole day today? I didn't get the memo," I mumble, and I see Gabe turn a chilly look my way.

"Bart, I hope you have a valid reason to storm into my office like this a second time." His voice is back to its monotonic flatness.

"Look at me! Isn't it obvious? That little shit did this!" He's spitting his fury all around.

"Where's your brother? I'd like to have another chat with him and his desk," I taunt him. He needs his face smashed a second time for sure.

"Like you don't know he was fired, you piece of shit!"

Fired?

He takes a step toward me, but Gabe's commanding tone stops him. "Lower your voice, Bart. I won't allow this kind of behavior in my firm."

"This kind of behavior?" Skid Mark is going ape, flailing his arms around and yelling. "I'm covered in fucking paint!"

"Slime," I correct him, sucking my lips inward for letting that slip.

He lets out an irate huff. "I knew it was you!"

"Just stating a fact," I say in a bored tone.

"He broke my brother's nose and dislocated his wrist." He turns to Gabe again.

"He let my numerous rejections whoosh right over his head. I just wanted to move away from his sticky fingers, but he decided that an inch was all I really needed for my own personal space. He denied my rights and was in need of a practical lesson."

"My brother is not a fag!" Skid Mark vehemently states.

I chuckle. "A fag? You mean a funny amazing guy? Certainly not! He's a repulsive, middle-aged prick with a fixation for egg salad and men's butts."

"You'll get what you deserve. Soon, you will," he hisses.

Was that a threat? A very lame one. Because you don't grow up being unapologetically me without leaving a long trail of pissed-off people behind.

"The egg salad must be another family trait. Woof!" I wave my hand in front of my face to clear the air.

"You're fired!" Gabe's abrupt statement makes my body freeze. I slowly turn my head toward him, ready to fire the flame of hell and try to melt the iceberg he has inside his chest, when I realize his eyes are not on me.

"What?" Skid Mark gasps. "You're firing me? After what he did?"

"Do you have proof, Bart?" Gabe questions him, using his uninterested tone. To be fair, Bart doesn't need proof, everybody knows it was me. So, why is Gabe defending me? Again?

"Don't need proof." The lawyer , in a law firm, in front of his boss , says there's no need for proof.

"Don't tell people you're a lawyer," Gabe steals the words from my mouth, making me snort and smile at him. It's as if, for a moment, something passes between us. Camaraderie?

Then he scolds me, "Silence." The smile falls from my lips, and I roll my eyes so hard, I see the back of my head.

"He has a record!" Skid Mark suddenly declares.

Dear Lords and their horses. This guy is dead from the neck up.

"Public disorderly conduct. I check all my employees before hiring them," Gabe lets us know, staring intently at Bart's face. He probably had Rami do it.

"Disorderly conduct, that's debatable. It was more an act of mercy, peeing on dying flowers in need of some fluids after the drought."

"In the middle of Lincoln Park?" Gabe interjects. So rude.

"The police agreed with me, that's why I didn't pay any fine." Also I agreed to go out on a date with the insistent copper.

"You-you lied to them, too! You'll do anything to get out of trouble. You're a fucking snake." He advances toward me with his hands balled up, but I don't back away. I prepare myself, so bloody ready to punch this joker in the mouth. But Gabe suddenly appears between us.

"Call security," he instructs Medusa, who is at the door, staring at the whole scene like a busybody.

"You've lost your goddamn mind!" Bart yells at him, apparently forgetting about me. Bugger! I really wanted to land one on the tosser.

"Oh, keep your hair on!" I huff his way.

Two guys from security arrive. They look like the jock versions of Mario and Luigi, with matching mustaches and a height difference.

"This is not the end! I won't sign any damn document to cover his ass, like you forced my brother." Skid Mark looks at me. What is he talking about? "You'll hear from me again."

"I hope not, for your sake," Gabe tells him, but the real meaning is lost on Bart.

The security brothers take a slightly fighting Bart out, and the door closes behind him.

"I helped his brother adjust his face. He should thank me," I scoff.

"How you elevate your fuming temper to benevolence is masterful." Gabe hasn't moved away, and suddenly, the spacious office feels too small for the two of us.

"I just dialed down my temper to an impressive five on a scale of ten," I counter.

"Everything with you is a confrontation. You can't follow the simplest code of conduct in a workplace, Lori." Hearing my name on his lips gives me a small tingling sensation, but his words annoy me.

"Conduct-shmonduct. He's just like his brother, and all his bones are still intact. I call this a huge show of self-restraint on my part."

"Did he touch you?" The protective way he utters the question makes the hair stand on my neck. There's definitely something going on with him. Is it the same thing I'm experiencing?

"No. But he harassed the new intern. I found her crying in the parking garage. I told her to go to HR, but she was afraid to lose her job. So, I took matters into my own hands." I cross my arms and push my hip out, assuming a challenging pose.

"You should have come to me."

"The mega busy boss? Your PA told me your next free slot is in two months!" I snark at him.

"She did what?" His jaw ticks slightly. Didn't Medusa tell him about my calls? The daft cow.

"How about your phone? It goes straight to voicemail!"

"It fell in one of Rague's acid barrels. I bought a new one two days ago," he explains.

Okay, Ollie didn't tell me that.

"Why did you send Ollie those texts? Why not me?"

"I wasn't sure you wanted to be contacted by me." He pauses while his eyes study mine. "You never hid your dislike toward me. What we did while you were under the influence of the drug, I thought you needed time to process it."

I'm paralyzed by the most suffocating brain fart I've ever had. Have to physically shake my head to come back to the present moment. This is a total new side of Gabe I'm discovering. The caring, sympathetic man. Where is the dismissive jerk I learned to loathe?

"Why did you fire him? And not me? Is it because of Rague and Ollie and the fact that I know about the evil-dispatching family business? I'll never tell anybody."

I never noticed how his silvery eyes can turn so dark. "I'm the only one who can chastise you." The rumble of his words washes over me, the crystalline sincerity in his voice at odds with the chaos starting to swirl inside me.

So many possibilities, so many unanswered questions. And for once, it is my business—not that that's ever stopped me.

"Is that why you fired his brother? And what's with the document that covered my arse?" I'm studying his face, but I don't see any change in his expression. What happened to the bloke who told me about how his dick's imprint was inside of me?

"I did it because he put his hands on you." He pauses, looking tense again. "On more employees, as I discovered."

I have no doubt the older Skid Mark groped more workers. People like him don't stop, because they don't want to. They don't care about hurting others. Gabe surely didn't like one of his associates playing nonconsensual tag right under his nose, putting his firm in jeopardy.

"The document he signed keeps him from filing a lawsuit against you and the firm. I need to work now." The last statement is filled with finality. And the disregarding jerk is back.

Just when I think I've found some kind of humanity in him, a mutual understanding, he has the ability to turn everything to shite. And I shite you not, I want to strangle him. "You're an arse."

"And your boss," he uselessly reminds me in his haughtiest voice yet.

"No, you're my boss's boss's boss." I push on my tiptoes, getting dangerously close to him. "And we need to talk."

"About?" He lowers his head, leaving an inch or two between us. Damn, his cologne mixed with his scent is so bloody amazing.

"Let's see. The time I went to my dentist and he ended up losing a tooth. The drug they gave us, of course! Do you have any symptoms…left?"

Those pearly eyes zero in on me in under a second. "Like?"

"Mm, strong concupiscent dreams." I clear my throat.

His nostrils flare, and this close, I can clearly see how hard he's trying to control himself. Does it mean he has the same issue?

"Did you talk to Sari about it?" His eyes fall on my lips and linger there.

"H-he said that it's normal." My tongue, all of a sudden, feels heavy inside my mouth. "But I want to know if…you also?—"

I'm interrupted by Medusa entering the room.

"Always knock." Gabe lifts his eyes from mine to address his PA with a cold stare. Then he rounds the desk and goes to sit in his chair.

While he does that, Medusa glares my way before clearing her expression and letting Gabe know that she couldn't find any available date for him for the Kravinsky charity dinner tomorrow. Another event to raise money for a good cause. The brothers are quite the philanthropists.

Sari asked me to go with Uri since he won't be able to attend, and in a moment of weakness, I accepted. Free booze, and the perfect occasion to wear my latest thrift store find. Spending it with Uri is the only downside of the evening. Gabe is the second.

"Did you try to increase the payment?" Gabe asks, without taking his eyes off some files on his desk.

Payment? Is he talking about escorts? I'm very confused right now. Doesn't he have a diary filled with women ready to jump at the possibility of going out with him? Rich, handsome, successful, young. Is he too picky?

"Nobody available on such short notice," she hurriedly says, pushing her long locks back surely to put on display her busty chest. "I could…accompany you, if you need."

Could she be more obvious?

Gabe raises his gaze. He looks at me for a second like he's pondering something, then at her. "Be ready at nine."

His words hit me in the gut, worse than a real punch. Because I can't deflect it, can't do anything but take the ache. I wonder if I've suffered a personality transplant, the sole idea of Gabe going to the ball with Medusa is creating murderous scenarios in my mind. Especially when she smirks at me before going back to her workstation.

"See yourself out. I have work to do." He doesn't even spare me a glance. Is he still the same caring person who told me he didn't contact me to give me more time to accept what happened in that club? Did I misunderstand his words?

On my way out, I can't stop myself. I bump the expensive-looking white vase on the small table near the door. It tips over and makes a loud crashing sound as it hits the floor and shatters in pieces.

Petty I know, but that's my middle name.

"Oops." I turn his way and make a shocked face. Then quickly change it into a smirk. "You're welcome. Horrible taste."

The smile that appears on his face isn't a nice one. It's predatory, and it seems to hold a wicked promise. I don't have time to contemplate the meaning of it because Gabe is smiling . And sodding hell, he's stunning.

I stand dumbly for a moment, trying to make sense of the warm spiral of awe twirling in my belly. Until I hear Medusa's voice coming from her desk and the spell is broken. I leave the room without a backward glance and make my way toward the elevator with my head high and my mind messed up.

I admit that I have a temper, and that at times, it makes me act like a vengeful bitch. Gabe, though, likes to point out my flaws before dismissing me. And that's what I was expecting when I broke the vase, not that wicked smile. If I add to that those inferno-hot words he said to me, I can say beyond a doubt that Gabe's demeanor is incredibly puzzling. He didn't confirm he has lingering drug side effects like me, but he's always screwed as tight as a jar of pickles.

I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't realize Skid Mark is waiting for me when I exit the elevator and walk outside the building. His grip on my forearm is bruising tight, but I huff at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he can hurt me.

"I already rearranged your brother's face. Do you want the same treatment?" I tell him in a discontented tone. His hand doesn't let go.

"You think you've won? Far from it. I'll make you pay." I can clearly see that he tried to wash away the green slime, the collar of his shirt is damp, his hair all messy. In a way he made it worse.

"If you want to leave walking on your legs, release me."

"You're just a screaming bitch."

Really? After I broke his bro's nose, he thinks I'll yelp like a damsel in distress?

I look around, the large sidewalk is busy with people walking at a fast pace, uncaring of their surroundings. I glance inside the building, there's nobody at the entrance desk.

The grip turns painful, making me reach the limit of daily dickishness I'm willing to tolerate. I'm sick of this shite!

I grab the thumb digging into my skin and wrench it upward, making him instantly release my arm. My knee lifts and hits him right in the family—surely junk—jewels. His back hits the wall, and his grunt of pain turns into a gasp as I compress his upper airway by pushing my forearm against his throat. He's taller than me, but unfit and without any fighting skill, so overpowering him is fairly easy.

"Where the fuck is security? They should have walked you to your car," I suddenly hear Gabe from behind me.

"Oh, someone finally noticed me being manhandled," I mumble sarcastically. I don't know why Gabe is here right now and don't care.

He growls low and deep, but I ignore his presence behind me, so close I can smell his enticing scent, and looking straight into Skid Marks's furious eyes, I hiss, "Touch me again, and I swear to fucking Satan and all his hellhounds that you'll lose your pathetic-sized dick. Comprende ?"

I wait for him to nod before letting him go with a shove. I slowly straighten my t-shirt, muttering a curse at the green stains on the front while trying to regain some composure. It doesn't work.

"Don't move, Bart," Gabe orders.

Without looking his way, I start walking. I don't turn around even when I hear him calling my name. I stomp my way toward a lingerie shop where I'll meet Sari, fuming like my gran's red kettle.

I've had enough pricks for the day. Fuck him. Fuck all of them.