Page 23 of Vile Bastards
“You broke in here,” I accuse, and he nods against the side of my neck, kissing and licking my skin. Tasting me, that’s what he’s doing. There’s a certain desperation to it that wasn’t there before. I can only ascribe it to my near-death experience. “Was it hard?”
“It wasn’t, but I am,” he whispers, kissing my ear and reaching his hand inside my sweatpants. He cups my dripping pussy from behind and gives it a squeeze. “Somebody left the back door unlocked; somebody wanted me to break in here and ravage her.”
I don’t even respond to that except to moan, biting my lower lip to keep the sound back. Bohnes pushes me over the countertop, and I can’t help but be reminded of Widow. This is the exact spot where he lost his virginity to me.
The thought makes me even hornier, and when Bohnes drags a finger down my folds, my entire body convulses like I’m about to come. It feels so incredibly good to be touched like this, to be touched at all when I came this close to never being touched again.
I don’t know what happens after death, but I do know this: I’ve got plenty left to prove.
Plenty of races to win. Plenty of money to make. Plenty of fuckboys to screw.
As usual, Bohnes’ hands are cool at first—likely from creeping around outside in late autumn—but that just adds a whole extra element when he slips one into me. The change in temperature makes me gasp, and I brace my palms on the countertop to push back against him.
“Easy there,” he murmurs, and then he slips in a second and a third. “We don’t want to rush this too much.” Bohnes pumps his hand, slamming his fist into my tender pussy over and over again, making me writhe, making me wish I could scream.
Instead, the mandated silence adds an extra layer to the interaction.
I can’t do anything about the wet sound of his fingers sliding in and out of me, the pounding echo of our flesh connecting. With his other hand, Bohnes frees his cock. He doesn’t put it in me, but I can hear him as he spits into his palm and starts to jack himself off.
I wiggle my ass to entice him, but he stubbornly refuses to comply with the silent order.
Instead, he moves between my thighs and puts the head of his dick against my clit, using my folds to slide back and forth. He bumps my clit with each movement, and then we’re both struggling to hold back sounds of pleasure.
Frustration, too, at least on my part.
We’re wild and slippery and grinding against one another when Bohnes abruptly reaches around and slaps a hand over my mouth—also just like Widow—silencing me completely as he goes still.
With a curse, he draws back from me, yanks his pants up, and then moves to the back door. He opens it to see Widow standing on the cement patio. Widow and Bohnes share a silent exchange of testosterone-fueled possession before Widow finally turns his bejeweled amber stare over to me.
Oooh, shit, I think as I see the dangerous gleam in his eye.
He came here for the same reason that Bohnes did.
Question is: do these fuckboys know how to share? Hell no, they don’t.
“Don’t kill each other.” I turn around, my sweatpants still pushed halfway down my thighs, and lean my ass up against the countertop. I’m not entirely certain that I could hold myself up right now. “I can’t focus on taking care of business, taking care of my girls …” I trail off because I know neither of those reasons are particularly convincing ones for them to keep their violence to themselves. “Or taking care of myself if I’m worried the two of you are plotting murder.”
“I won’t kill the scummy cheating bastard until after you break up.” Bohnes offers this up like a favor. For him, it truly is. I do appreciate that. “After that, I’ll give you a few years to forget who he is and then I will kill him. See? Nothing to worry about.”
“I know how you feel about Bohnes,” Widow murmurs, the low tones of his whisper perfectly suited to the rick, dark timbre of his voice. “As your future husband, I agree to stay my hand unless he comes for me. In that case, I won’t hold back.”
Bohnes allows himself a shadowed chuckle, but it’s thick with menace. He isn’t fucking around. He truly believes that Widow and I will part ways and that, at some point, he’ll get to bury him.
Considering what Widow and I did in the library, and that he fucked me before being given the all clear, I have to say that it’s an extremely generous offer from Bohnes.
“What about Ash and Alexei?” I query, crossing my arms and wondering what I look like trying to posture with my pants down—literally.
