5. Harley
FIVE
My plan didn’t go exactly how I wanted it to, but I still got our angel scared. Our angel. I saw the rage glistening in her eyes while the rest of her body glowed with trepidation. I might’ve been watching her for six months, but she still remains a mystery. All I know is that whatever she did must’ve been bad enough to send our boss into an even more psychotic state than he already was in.
Now back home in my office, I put together the weekly file of her and prepare to send it to him. You’d think that with how long we’ve been working for him we’d at least know his name. Nope.
All we can assume is that he’s somewhere locked up or hidden all because of Winver Sage. The answer as to why still remains unclear.
Within seconds a blue checkmark pops up next to my notification, letting me know he received it. I fall back into my chair letting my body try to relax, when all of a sudden I get a phone call from the one and fucking only.
“Sir.”
“That’s all you got for me?” Clearing my throat, my body tenses up again. I fucking hate it when he calls me.
“Yes, sir.”
He remains silent, but I can hear his mouse click through what I assume are the pictures of her in the file. Straightening back up, I open the file and click through the photos that me and the guys took. Her waitressing at the pub, walking out of her apartment, with her friends, lounging around her apartment, shopping…you name it, we have a picture of her doing it.
“I see…” a sound of a printer can be heard on his end while he continues clicking through the pictures.
“Well, continue doing what y’all have been doing.” The line cuts off, making me now fall back into my chair letting out a deep sigh. It’s not like we have a fucking choice.
If we stop, we die.
Shutting my laptop, Motley comes and sits down in front of my desk. Judging by the look on his face, it’s obvious he just heard who I was on the phone with. Not even ten seconds later Weston comes walking in, plopping down on the other chair next to Motley.
“Anything?” Motley asks.
“Nope.” I pop the p. Both of their heads fall back in defeat.
“Just give him time. Everything will be over soon,” Weston says, making me grow angry and irritated.
“Give him time? What the fuck do you think we’ve been doing, Wes? All we’ve been doing is giving it time. Both of you can’t tell me that this isn’t eating y’all alive.” Both of them direct their glances to the floor, refusing to look me in the eyes. My patience is growing thin. Motley clears his throat while crossing his arms, landing his blue eyes on me.
“Okay, I’m in.” His response has me by surprise, but it makes it hard for me not to smirk a little. Weston snaps his head to Motley, now looking pissed. Shrugging his shoulders, Motley looks at Weston.
“What? I’ve had time to think about what Harley said last night. She walked into our territory which only makes her fair game. Might as well make her useful.”
Putting my elbows on the desk interlocking my hands, I try to hide my smirk, but it’s now on full display. If Motley was in, Weston definitely was going to be. We’re a team.
“Come on Wes…have some fun,” Motley whispers, reaching over and gently squeezing his thigh. Mumbling something under his breath, Weston combs a hand through his black hair.
“Fuck it, I’m in.”
That’s my good boy.
Despite me and Motley’s look of victory, I can tell that Weston remains in his head. He’s always been the overthinker and I can’t really say I blame him. His parents cut him off once he turned eighteen and hasn’t spoken to them since. Even though we’ve all been best friends since we were ten, neither me nor Motley ever went to his house or met his parents. I understood the moment I saw him walk into school in sixth grade with bruises on his arms and wrists. I never asked nor did he ever bring it up. Weston was also the first one who found out what happened two years ago.
Motley, too, seems to notice the deep, thoughtful gaze that lingers in Weston’s eyes. Now squeezing his thigh tighter, Motley tries to get Weston’s attention. “Weston…” He turns his head towards Motley’s direction, but his eyes don’t follow. His eyes remain locked in, staring at the desk for a few seconds before looking at Motley, letting all of us know he’s finally come out of his deep thoughts.
“It’ll be okay. No matter what happens, we all have each other.”
Nodding to himself a few times, he’s back to the normal Weston. Actually, I don’t really know if normal is what you’d call it. I couldn’t tell you the last time any of us have been “normal”.
Getting up from my chair, I walk around to the front of the desk, now only a couple feet away from them. I know what will ease everyone’s mind and that’s exactly what we’re about to do. You can’t escape reality forever, but it feels fucking amazing when you do.
“Get up, Weston,” I say hungrily, watching as he slowly gets up and takes two steps towards me. Our breaths are now hitting each other”s skin. I look into his sapphire eyes then trail down to his lips when he then smashes his onto mine. I needily devour him back. My tongue dances with his as he starts unbuckling my belt while Motley remains seated, watching us.
“On your kne–”
“Not yet.” Weston’s demanding tone catches me off guard. He swiftly turns me, pushing me down on the chair he was just occupying. I look up at him then to Motley, who raises his eyebrows then slightly shrugs. Weston opens up the laptop typing something before moving himself out of the way so that me and Motley can see. The screen shows our security footage of Winver last night entering the haunted house.
“You’re going to watch her while I put your cock in the back of my throat.”
This is a side of Weston I have yet to see in all of our years knowing each other, but it’s a side I’m not complaining about, either. He’s still obeying like a good boy, but he’s testing the waters. If he thinks he can become a switch though, he can think again.
I can feel the blood start to rush to my cock as I watch him undress from the waist down. “And you, Motley, are going to invade my ass until you have nothing left to give.”
Getting on his knees, Weston pushes my chair back making room for Motley who now starts to undo his pants, his cock already hard. I watch as Weston takes off my belt and unzips my jeans. I slightly lift my hips up, helping him take them off as my cock springs out in the process. He looks up at me before he continues to do anything else.
“Watch her, Harley, not me. Imagine I’m her. Imagine this is her taking your cock in the back of her throat like the good little slut she is.”
My gaze now looks at Winver through the screen, watching as she now makes it to the part of the haunted house where she and her friends got separated. I focus in on her, watching as the look of fright draws on her face when she first saw me in the hallway.
A groan escapes my lips, feeling Weston’s tongue circle around my tip while Motley slowly starts to sink into him. I continue watching our scared little angel. Seeing how terrified she was makes me regret not doing anything more. I should’ve at least drawn a knife to her throat. My attention on her is interrupted by Weston who now takes all of me in his mouth. He pushes himself deeper, groaning and gagging as he gets filled from both ends.
“Fuck, Wes. I forgot how much I love your tight ass,” Motley pants.
I slowly start to thrust, matching his rhythm. Looking at the laptop again, I see her against the wall and I feel a sense of regret. I should’ve destroyed her right then. I should’ve destroyed her in her fucking apartment today.
“Imagine I’m her.”
I run my hands up the sides of his head, grabbing his hair and holding him in place as I start thrusting my cock as far down his throat as it can go. His gags fill the room, but all I can think about is her.
Owning her throat.
Owning her pussy.
Owning her body.
Owning her soul.
With each forceful thrust comes a more eager need to release.
“Imagine I’m her.”
Pounding into his throat, I hold his head down as my cum starts to shoot out. I snap my head back groaning, feeling my load continue to unravel down his throat. Taking my hands off of him, he immediately comes up gasping for air and moaning while Motley’s thrusts become slower and deeper.
“Fuckkkk…” Motley groans, now filling Weston up.
We all take a minute to come down from our high, Weston gets up and starts to get dressed when I notice his ecstasy puddled on the floor.
“Hey, Weston.” He looks at me as he zips his jeans back up, tilting his head waiting for a response.
“Next time you try to dominate someone, maybe don’t do exactly what they tell you to.” He scoffs, smiling at me.
“Don’t worry, big boy. I’m still yours and Motley’s.”