Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
STEFANI
Everything hurts when I try to open my eyes. Voices drift in and out, muffled at first, then sharpening as awareness claws its way back. I try to remember where I'm supposed to be—and then it hits me all at once.
The crash. The men. Being carried away. And then … nothing.
Rancorous laughter snaps my attention to the side. I turn toward the sound—and that's when I feel it. A collar around my neck. It's attached to a chain anchored to the floor.
Panic spikes. I grab at the metal, yanking hard, but the movement only draws the attention of the others in the room. Three men. One of them is Mayfield.
He strolls over, hands sliding from his pockets as he crouches in front of me. His eyes roam over my face with a smugness that makes my skin crawl.
"Well," he says, reaching out as if to touch my cheek, "looks like my beautiful whore finally decided to awake up."
I jerk away, glaring. "Don't fucking touch me!"
His smile widens—and then he strikes me across the face. The crack echoes through the room.
"You've got spirit," he says, voice dripping with mock admiration. "But that won't help you here."
I steady my breathing, forcing myself not to flinch. "You're going to regret that."
The scumbag laughs and glances back at the two men behind him.
"Did you hear that?" he asks. "The whore thinks she matters. She thinks the Johnson and Ledford heirs are going to burn their world down for her."
He turns back to me, eyes cold.
"You're nothing to them, just like you were nothing to your father. All you're good for is being a fuck toy for those two. The only thing they love is each other's assholes."
His hand clamps around my jaw, squeezing hard enough to make my eyes water. There's a cold, appraising gleam in his gaze—the kind that makes my stomach twist.
"When do we get our payment?" one of his friends asks, shifting with impatience while grabbing his junk.
"Now that she's awake, we can get started," Mayfield replies. "We'll take her right here. Treat her like the bitch she was meant to be."
My blood runs cold.
I shake my head, trying to scoot back, but hands grab me and pin me in place. I try to scream, but a large hand covers my mouth—and part of my nose. My breath cuts short. Panic takes hold. I thrash harder, desperate for air.
A sharp blow cracks across my face. Black spots burst behind my eyes.
No. It can't end like this. I refuse to let this be the last chapter of my life.
Just when I start to lose all hope, a wet, choking sound snaps my attention sideways. The man covering my mouth goes rigid—then collapses to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.
"What the fuck?" Mayfield stumbles back, eyes wide.
A single bullet hole sits in the center of his friend's throat.
Before Mayfield can react, the second man drops too—a neat wound at his temple. He hits the ground with a heavy thud.
Mayfield scrambles away, panic overtaking his bravado. He spins, searching for the threat.
Two figures in all black step into the room, their faces masked. Silent and efficient.
Mayfield opens his mouth to scream, but one of the masked men swings the butt of his silencer and cracks it against the side of my captors skull. He crumples instantly.
The room goes still.
And for the first time since waking up, I breathe.
A few minutes later, two more very familiar and much-welcomed faces appear… and I break down.
It's been a week since Mayfield vanished, but that isn't what has the town buzzing. No—it's my father's disappearance that has everyone whispering behind closed doors.
I know Cutter and Dash were involved. I'll carry that secret for the rest of my life.
They saved me—from a future I don't even want to imagine—and they paid a price for it.
They walked away from their families without hesitation.
I argued with them, begged them not to burn their bridges for me, but nothing I said changed their minds.
Fresh from the shower, I step out of the bathroom, still towel-drying my hair. Whatever my plans were for seducing them tonight go completely out the window when Cutter wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me effortlessly, tossing me onto the bed.
"I think a week is long enough to let you recover, Kitten," he says, his voice warm, teasing.
"It's about time, Daddy," I say in a sultry voice before nibbling my bottom lip. "I've been desperate to have you and Bruder inside me again."
His lips tug up in a smirk. "Well, I guess we're going to have to ease that needy meat gobbler of yours, won't we?"
"Daddy…" I beg, spreading my legs, letting him see my freshly shaved kitty cat. "I want you."
Dash enters the room with a tray. He's grinning from ear to ear. I recognize that grin. He's found a new inventive way to play. Cutter knows this, too, and peeks at the items on the tray.
Cutter glances at the tray and lets out a low laugh.
"You always have something up your sleeve, don't you?
" he says, gripping Dash's jaw and taking his lips in a searing kiss.
When he pulls back, he takes one last look at the tray and shakes his head in amusement.
"This will be the first for me, baby boy. "
Cutter grasps the towel still around my body and tugs it free, leaving me totally bare.
"Tell me, Kitten. Who do you belong to?" His dominant tone is back and has me throbbing.
"You, Daddy," I pant. "I belong to you and Bruder."
"That's right," he says, "and don't ever forget that."
Dash sets the tray down on the nightstand and grabs the bowl that's on it. Then, Cutter grabs one leg while Dash grabs the other, and they open me up.
"This may be a little warm, Kitten," Dash chuckles as he tips the bowl.
A thick yellow substance pours out. When it hits my pussy, I jerk, startled. It is warm … and gooey.
"What is that?"
"Nothing for you to worry about, Kitten," Cutter states. "We're ravenous, and we'll do what we want."
Dash sets the bowl down before dropping to his knees. He rubs the substance around and between my folds before licking his fingers clean.
"Mm … Arby's ain't got nothing on our beef and cheddar," he groans before shoving his face into my cheesy cooch.
Cutter follows suit. I have both my Doms on their knees between my legs, pleasuring me. What more can a girl ask for?
I place my hand on my stomach, remembering what I found out just a few short hours ago. A smile forms on my lips just before my orgasm hits, and I scream out their names.
For the first time in weeks, I feel something inside me loosen—a knot of fear, tension, and memory finally giving way to safety … to them … to home.