Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
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C amden
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O h, this little minx . We could easily overlook the purple monstrosity she turned our home into, even though my eyes still cringe from all the chintziness. If that was her way of getting back at us, we’d be glad she got it out of her system. It was a good one, despite Wesley, the neat freak among us, nearly losing it at the sight of our penthouse. I couldn’t help but laugh at him, trying not to express how he really felt.
But then this beauty, draped in a fur coat and thick jewelry, with sultry makeup, a sleek black dress underneath, and stilettos, looking like the wife of a mob boss, played us again. Although if being a mob boss' wife is a fantasy of hers, we can easily be her three mob boss husbands. Power is power. She just has to say the word.
But I choke on my laughter when we enter the dining room, and she introduces us to the staff she hired. What the hell? She hired four strippers pretending to be a butler, a housekeeper, a server, and a chef, with their dicks nearly hanging out of their goddamn shorts, all for her viewing pleasure.
Now that’s something even I don't find funny. She’s ours. She gets off on guys choking the blood supply off from their dicks in shorts and wearing glitter? All she has to do is ask. Not fucking this.
It takes us two minutes to throw Jackass Jupiter, Troll Truck Lust, Halfwit Hammer Master, and Asshat Adonis out the door. They’re lucky it wasn’t the window of the penthouse.
“I’ll be sure to come and see your show next week, Jupiter, Truck, Hammer, and Ace,” she yells from behind us.
The fuck she will, even if we have to tie her to our bed. It’s about damn time we make our stance clear to her. The little vixen seems confused about the issue. We married her because she fucking belongs to us. From the first moment we set our eyes on a mere photo of her, she was ours.
Her sweet caramel-colored eyes, spotted with gold brazenness. Her long eyelashes. Her perfect, kissable mouth. Her lovely, slender, feminine jaw. One look at that image where she seemed to refuse to smile, and she gripped us by the fucking balls and wouldn’t let go. It all happened in an instant.
Then we met her in person, and fuck, I speak for all three of us when I say we can still feel her teeth sinking into our balls, unyielding as she makes us bow to her.
But then she pulled that stunt, trying to prove she wasn’t attracted to us in any way. Got to hand it to her, the gorgeous princess has her own set of female balls. Except, even though she tried to lie to us, we saw glimpses of her wetness shimmering against the red lace, and fuck if that’s the only thing we think about. Parting her, tasting her, fucking her with orgasm after orgasm until she knows her place and calls herself our wife.
By the time we return to the dining room, Ms. Feisty is seated at the table, taking bites out of a slice of pizza.
“You’re back,” she says unnecessarily. “Please, sit and eat. Maybe you’re ready to talk now about ending this sham of a marriage?” She sips her soda, smug as fucking ever. “And if you think that’s all I’ve got, wait until I take this show on the road. You won’t know what hit you. It didn’t have to get this far. You didn’t have to marry me. We all could have been so much happier right now.”
She fishes in her damn fur coat, jewelry jingling as she does so, and pulls out a folded sheet of paper and a pen.
Not this again.
“Sign this. We'll get this marriage annulled and call it quits.”
“How about a game of heads or tails first?” Dean asks, using his placating tone. I might be the jokester, and Wesley the grump, but Dean is the diplomat. He always makes sure we get what we want.
“What?” she asks, her silky brows dipping to the center of her forehead. Fuck, she’s beautiful.
“You didn’t think we’d look the other way when our brand-new wife hires two-bit strippers as a butler, housekeeper, server, and cook, did you?” Wesley asks.
“Of course not. I expected you to sign this. Please,” she adds, offering us the pen, which we ignore.
“You see, if you have a hankering for men to walk around with their dicks and asses hanging out, then it should be us,” I say, determined to get my point across.
“Well, I prefer them. They wouldn’t have married me if they knew there was another way to help me out,” she says cheekily, then stuffs a strawberry into her mouth.
“Heads or tails?” Wesley asks, stopping me from telling her all the ways she’s going to end up preferring us after all.
She sighs theatrically. “Okay, I’ll bite. What am I playing for?”
“Heads, we don’t spank you. Tails, we spank you.”
“Are you for real?” She laughs.
I don’t think she realizes how sultry her laugh sounds and how it’s doing all kinds of wicked things to our dicks.
“How about heads you annul this marriage? I get the ten million dollars from my trust fund, and we go our separate ways like we should have in the first place. Tails, you spank me or whatever.”
We exchange glances and grin because we’re that kind of confident motherfuckers. There’s no way she’ll get her annulment. We own fate. And she’s our destiny.
“Deal.”