5. Answer Me

5

ANSWER ME

OLIVER

The relatively civil way our bassist, Murphy, disses Sophia sends my rebellious emotions into a frenzy. Rage radiates from my pores.

With his arm bent at the elbow, I feel Cannon's long-fingered hand hover over mine on his shoulder. The script is flipped when the comforting touch I extended is now held captive in his grasp. I glance from his hand to his face, only to find his blonde hair tumbling carelessly around his broad-carved face, worry for both me and Soph etched in the glimmer of his robin's-egg-blue eyes.

A flash from last night caresses my memory.

Like a puppet master, I whispered into the thin air, coaching Soph and Cannon's movements with heated words of praise, "Just like that. Look how good her pussy is taking you."

My jaw ached as my teeth clenched so hard that I was fearful of breaking a molar while I watched Cannon's thick shaft inch deeper and deeper into Soph until he disappeared into her sweet cunt, filling her to the hilt. The sounds they both expelled wreaked havoc on my willpower.

Tilting his head so that the back of it rested on my clavicle, I ran my fingers through his mixed strands of iced and honey-colored waves before splaying my palm on his scalp and pulling his strands taut in my grasp. I turned my head so that my lips danced across the shell of his ear, offering him an out, one that I prayed to the fucking stars he didn't take.

"I've thought about fucking you, owning the part of you that I claimed ten goddamn years ago. You've haunted my dreams. Do you feel how hard my dick is for you? Do you want this as bad as I do?"

A millisecond later, Cannon's hips thrust into Sophia with so much force that her body jutted forward on the bed as a moan tore from her lungs, the sound echoing in the confined tour bus bedroom. As he continued his domination of her pussy, I slid my palm down the back of his neck, watching as his throat bobbed under my iron grip. His muscles tensed with the change in pressure of my hold. When he inclined his head toward mine with compliance, I watched intently as a bead of sweat slid down his creased forehead while he steadily pounded into our girl. No doubt, his tempo increased from the thick-as-honey lust lingering between our bodies.

"Answer me."

He groaned an intoxicating, "Yes," before his bravado deepened, and then his voice slid into a low hum as he said, "I'd rather feel how hard it is sliding into me."

My senses fogged, as if his answer had somehow managed to short-circuit my brain.

I'd always prided myself on being sensible. I hid behind humor as a mask, and my true identity clung to order despite the chaos that loomed over my childhood. I thrived on being in charge, giving fate the middle finger, and reclaiming something I had been denied in adolescence. I took life by the balls, demanding my stake in this world, creating my path. Denied control, safety, and stability as a youth, forced to waver to the whims of a world I was lost in. As an adult, I was powerless no more.

I vowed never to forbid myself anything that caused a sliver of happiness, no matter the cost. Cannon Rhodes was the only exception because he held all the power in the palm of his hand. The sincerity in his blue eyes shone bright enough to dismantle my resolve. The adoration for my best friend, my only true weakness in the hard armor I wear like a second skin.

Refusing him, turning his declaration of love into a wasteland of swirling emotions, was my last-ditch effort at grasping the control that I needed to survive, knowing full well that he held it all. I longed for control so much that I refused to see that it had withered in the wind the moment our eyes locked for the first time all those years ago.

Cannon's lips parted, curving into a smile that held a hint of eroticism before he said, "It's your turn to answer me."

My eyes widened, darting from his luscious lips to the rich outline of his broad shoulders to the sheen of sweat glimmering across his defined chest, which was now heaving. I knew that I'd willingly hand over control … my heart … my soul. Anything the brute drummer asked for was his, even my deepest, darkest truth.

I've loved him ever since he taught me the meaning of the word.

The sound of his balls slapping against Soph's body mocked me more than his words ever could, though I tried to hold on to the fragments of power between us as I said, "You didn't ask me anything."

"It was a silent invitation. Let me rephrase it so you'll hear me this time." He looked into the depths of my eyes, and the rest of the world faded around us, including the moans of the red-haired siren bent on all fours in front of us.

Soph's trust in the two of us sent a shiver down my spine.

"Every man I've screwed has been a placeholder for you. You rejected me, but that doesn't mean every time I buried my dick in someone else's ass, my heart didn't ache, wishing it were you claiming me. My second-most-sensitive body part is all yours. It's always been yours, Ollie. Only yours."

"What's your first-most-sensitive part?"

"My heart. It's going to take a little more than a quick fuck to fix that though."

I couldn't breathe. Words escaped me.

Cannon rolled his hips before spreading himself wide with both of his large hands. The veins in my cock thickened, and a bead of pre-cum glistened at the tip of my cock.

"I want you to fuck me so thoroughly that you refuse to forget me ever again. Mark me as yours, Ollie. Tell me we don't have to hide from how we truly feel anymore, speak it into existence, and then, I'll see if you're worthy of my heart again."

I shattered into a million tiny shards at his request, all of them belonging to him. In one swift motion, I shoved Cannon forward like his physique was no match for the hunger coiling around my own wanton need, demanding to be released in a reign of ecstasy. With his chest now sealed to the velvety skin of Soph's naked back, I grabbed hold of his perfectly molded ass, rubbing my hands over his soft flesh before cupping his balls, pulling slightly.

"Fuck," he muttered .

"Please …" Soph's voice was muffled as she begged for release. "Fuck him into me, Ollie. You hold all the power."

Her foolish words landed flat at my feet. Because we all knew damn well that she owned the three of us.

"As you wish, baby," I told Sophia as my palm slapped Cannon's ass, the sound ringing louder than our harsh breaths. "You're both mine now." Dominance poured from my lips as my index finger met my best friend's puckered hole.

With an expert move, I squirted a dollop of lube onto my hard-as-steel dick and a small amount onto my finger. The liquid pooled around the inked tentacles of my jellyfish tattoo and dripped to the floor below my feet.

There was no warning as my finger entered his hole, just a bucking of his hips, and a grunt of pleasure tearing from his mouth. I worked him with precise movements of my fingers until his greedy desire tore through my restraint. I positioned myself behind him, and then I fully buried myself into him in one solid stroke with my jellyfish-tatted dick.

"F-fuck … mmm," I called out as my force pushed Cannon into Soph, and the three of us chased euphoria.

"Ollie." Cannon's gruff voice pulls me out of my sex-crazed trance.

I glance down into his ocean-blue eyes as he tethers me back to reality. Though his profile is rigid and strong, his blue eyes remind me of a child's, kind with a sort of gracious beauty. He's always had a hold on me, even in the years I spent trying to smother my attraction toward him. One night was all it took for the wall of defense to crumble at our feet. With that barrier no longer between us, I get lost in his arresting good looks. My attention is captured for a moment of suspended time.

Until Cannon's hand squeezes mine, once again beckoning me back to reality.

The gesture speaks volumes after my previous blunder about me and him being together last night. I appreciate his public display of affection, at least until my mind replays the scene in front of me. Then, I forgo his loving touch and dive headfirst into the darkness of Murphy's betrayal.

"What the fuck? I thought you were on our side." I motion to myself and Cannon, staring wildly at Murphy, who appears to have woken up and decided to wedge himself in the middle of this fight.

Fucking traitor.

"Let me finish." He turns to face us, Mazen on his heels. "I was going to say, I agree that a line was crossed when Ollie hired her without asking anyone else. But," his pause adds a dramatic effect that I'm not sure he was aiming for, but it works. I feel like I'm being edged, hanging on his every word. "I'm glad he did. In the short amount of time we've known her, she became one of us."

The sound of Vanna sniffling isn't lost on me. I might have been greedy with Sophia the last couple of weeks, but it's clear that she made an impression on all of us. Even the ones not fucking her into oblivion.

Jupiter too. He's the biggest turncoat of us all. Our four-legged road dog has been lost without his belly-scratching pal.

Murphy turns back to face me. "If she's not answering, then it's simple. Call her sister. She rushed home to be with her—so Mazen claims. Let's just contact her and get to the bottom of this. It's not rocket science. I know none of us went to college—"

"Excuse me, I did," Lindsey interrupts.

"Thanks to us," Mazen adds tersely.

"We'll call Lacey right now. Okay?" Murphy asks, staring at us like we're a band of morons and not the fully capable men we are.