Chapter 2
MALICE
“Oh god! Oh fuck! Yes! Right there! Take me harder, daddy, please!”
I roll my eyes but give the woman in front of me what she wants, slamming into her so hard that my pelvis slaps against her ass. Each stroke sends me in balls deep, and I grip her hips hard enough that there will be bruises left behind.
She’s bent over the bed in my room, her upper half sprawled out on the mattress while her feet are on the floor, legs spread and hips bucking.
I don’t remember her name, and I don’t like her face, which is why I’m fucking her like this.
Her face is too done up. Her makeup is too heavy, and everything about her feels fucking fake, from her bleach blonde hair with dark roots to her bowling ball tits.
I hate that shit. But she’s tight enough, and even though her screams and moans are just as fake as the rest of her, I can feel my balls drawing up, so I know I’m gonna come inside her soon.
“Oh shit!” she moans. “Fuck yes, right there! Ooooh, you’re so good!”
It’s some shit straight from a porno, and not even a good one. It’s so over the top, and it’s grating on my goddamned nerves just listening to her high pitched, breathy voice.
I change the angle of my thrusts, jackhammering into her, slamming right into that spot that changes her moans from fake bullshit to the real deal.
They stop being moans, sounding more like squeaks and grunts, and the shitty dialogue finally dries up.
She almost sounds like she’s in pain as I make her take every single inch of me with each hard stroke.
I look down, watching myself slide in and out of her. My tattooed shaft stretches her walls over and over again, the condom shiny with her arousal.
Those particular tattoos always surprise people, even though they fit in with the rest of my look.
I’ve got ink everywhere—some of which I gave myself, and some of which I got from other people.
The skin that’s not tattooed is scarred, and every scar has a story that’s pretty fucked up.
But I don’t know anyone who has happy scar stories, so whatever.
The size difference between me and this girl is pretty ridiculous. Aside from her big ass fake tits, everything else about her is petite, and I’m pretty jacked, so it’s not hard to grab her and use her however I want to.
Judging from the sounds still pouring out of her mouth, she likes it. Her noises are real now, but they’re still getting on my fucking nerves.
“Shut the fuck up,” I grunt, slapping her ass hard.
She screams, and if the sounds coming out of her mouth are actual words, I can’t understand them.
“I said shut up,” I grind out, pumping my hips harder.
Her mouth is open, and I can hear her ragged breathing as I drive into her hard and brutally. I dig my nails into her hips, leaving half-moon indents in her skin as I drag her into each deep, punishing thrust, the sound of skin slapping skin loud in the room.
The girl sounds like an animal now, grunting and groaning, writhing on the bed like she’s being exorcised.
“That’s it,” I rasp. “Fucking take it. I know you like this.”
She mewls into the mattress, and I can feel her start to go tighter around me, the spasms and twitching showing that she’s close.
Over the sound of my harsh breathing and her cries, the slam of a door and the murmur of low voices downstairs catch my attention, letting me know that my brothers are home.
We all live together in a warehouse space that’s attached to our chop shop, and this won’t be the first time that Ransom and Victor have come home to find me going to town on some girl.
I need sex a lot, and they just deal with it.
I didn’t even bother to shut the door all the way, and I know they can hear us going at it. The way the warehouse is set up, shit echoes. But that doesn’t make me stop for a second.
“Oh, fuck!” the girl screeches.
She clamps down tight around me, her walls squeezing me in a way that sets me off too. I slam into her hard and fast, chasing that hot, intense feeling, and I finish in the condom I’m wearing a second later, breathing hard.
I catch my breath, still buried inside that tight, wet heat as Victor appears in the doorway, looking into the room like he’s not fazed one bit. It takes more than this to rattle my twin, and he barely even glances at the girl as he pushes the door open a bit wider.
It’s pretty easy to tell we’re twins from how we look. Vic’s hair is almost the exact same dark shade as mine, although his eyes are a clear blue where mine lean more toward gray. Our features are similar too, although we each wear them differently.
Vic is more closed off from his emotions, whereas I usually let mine rule me, leaning into things like anger and lust and whatever the fuck else I feel that day. My twin keeps his shit on a tight rein, and there’s nothing he hates more than feeling like he’s lost control.
His expression is impassive as he meets my gaze, and this conversation, whatever it’s about to be, could be happening anywhere. The fact that I’m balls deep in some woman doesn’t even matter.
“Tonight’s the night,” he says.
He leaves it at that, but I don’t need to hear more to know what he’s talking about.
My heart stutters in my chest, and I pull out of the girl, letting her drop onto the bed. Now that I’m not holding on to her anymore, she lifts her head and finally notices Vic standing there.
“What the fuck?” She screeches, scrambling over the mattress and trying to cover herself up.
I huff a breath, lifting an eyebrow. “Oh, now you wanna be modest? Where was all that when you were begging for my cock an hour ago?”
“That was different! I—you—”
Her voice is just as loud as it was during sex, but it’s a hell of a lot more annoying when I’m not buried inside her.
“You don’t want Vic to see you?” I ask, jerking my chin. “Then get the fuck out.”
“Excuse me?”
“Are you deaf? I said get out. I’ve got shit to do.”
She stares at me for a second, like she’s waiting for me to say I’m just kidding or something. I just fix her with a hard stare, making it pretty damn clear that I’m serious and I want her the fuck out of here now.
“Fine,” she snaps at last, sliding off the bed and gathering her clothes in a rush.
Vic doesn’t move. He still hasn’t looked at her or even acknowledged her presence, but she keeps shooting him glances as she tugs on her skirt and skimpy top.
She has to turn sideways to slip past him as she leaves my bedroom, and she shoots me a look over her shoulder once she’s out in the hall.
“Fuck you,” she spits.
“No thanks. I don’t go back for seconds,” I mutter under my breath, pulling off the condom and tying it up so I can toss it in the trash.
I grab my boxer briefs and pants from the floor and pull them on, leaving my shirt where it is for the moment as I hear the distant sound of our front door slamming shut.
“I see you had fun tonight,” Vic notes. Someone else might say it teasingly, trying to rile me up. But with Vic, it’s always just an observation. He’s just stating a fact.
I shrug, tugging up the zipper on my pants. “Worked as a distraction for the night. She wasn’t anything special.”
Our younger brother Ransom pokes his head into the room, coming to stand next to Vic. “I didn’t think you went for blondes,” he comments with a grin.
“She wasn’t really a blonde,” I point out. “I don’t know what the fuck color she started as, but that shit wasn’t real.”
“So, did Vic tell you?” Ransom asks, his smirk slipping away as his expression turns serious.
“Yeah.” I glance between the two of them. “He said it’s happening tonight.”
Ransom nods, his eyebrow ring flashing with the movement. “Fucking finally.”
For years, the three of us have been trying to hunt down the man who killed our mother. We didn’t have much to go on, nothing but a description of a tattoo that could’ve belonged to anyone in the city. Or even someone who was just passing through.
But we never gave up. We never stopped trying to find the fucker and make him pay for what he did to our mom.
And then finally, we got the info we needed.
“I still think it’s risky,” Vic says in his quiet, low voice, glancing between me and Ransom. “The Kings of Chaos have never fucked us over before, and I know they want this guy dead too. But if their intel is bad, we could be walking into a trap.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I fire back. “If there’s trouble, we’ll deal with it. We can’t miss this chance.”
Ransom makes a noise in his throat, folding his arms across his chest. He’s the tallest of the three of us, although not by much.
“Malice is right. We can’t pass this up.
Plus, you saw how Ash and that chick looked when they told us about our mark, Vic.
They’re just as serious about this fucker dying as we are. ”
Victor shakes his head but doesn’t say anything else.
When a member of the Kings of Chaos and some silver haired woman showed up on our turf to talk to us a few weeks ago, I knew it was going to be something big.
We don’t run in the same circles as the Kings do.
They run their operations in a different part of Detroit than us, but we’ve worked together before.
If they were coming to see us, I was sure it had to be about something serious. Something real. They wouldn’t go so far out of their way for nothing.
And I was right.
They gave us the name of the man with the tattoo that we’ve been looking for all this time.
Nikolai Petrov.
Along with his name, they gave us enough information to track the fucker down and exact our vengeance, and all they asked in return is that we wait for their go-ahead before we killed him.
I wanted to go find the son of a bitch right then and there and make him regret ever being born, but if the Kings want us to play this a certain way, there must be a good reason.
When my brothers and I talked it over after our meeting with Ash, I remember Ransom shrugging, a savage light in his blue-green eyes.