Chapter Fifty-One #3
As the pale glow of dawn sprawls over the island, finally, we drag ourselves into the mansion.
Smoke billows from the fires that have finally been put out, working nicely to distract from the smell of blood, and death, which unfortunately is quite pungent.
We lost some good men—well, not good, but you know. Not including the prisoners killed in the fall, and those who attempted escaping after the fall and were gunned down in the forest like animals.
Thing is, I’m not a hypocrite. I won’t sit here and say that if the prison had fallen while we were still in charge, we wouldn’t have been the ones taking out escaped prisoners on behalf of our boss. We’d done it before.
Still, it’s the lives lost during this month-long war that are sitting on my shoulders with the rest of the stress I’m hoping will be rubbed out soon.
We spilled blood for this island, and we won it.
Soon, it’ll be time to collect, but in the meantime, I’m looking forward to being home for the first time since we were evicted weeks ago.
If you need me, I’ll be standing in the shower for three days.
The Ivory Mansion is bustling with more people than I’ve ever seen in my thirteen years of living here. There were never more than maybe fifty people in here at a time. And that might seem like a lot, but this place is the size of a resort. It can fit hundreds, and now it is.
Fortunately, the cartel isn’t staying. They’re packing up and shipping off, back to wherever they came from—I’m given to understand his soldiers were pulled from their stations all over the world. But now they’re leaving, and it’s a good thing. Because we really need the space.
It could be unsettling, sharing a roof with the prisoners we once patrolled over. Many of them are… let’s just say not ideal roommates. But the way I see it, if they could be trusted enough to carry guns and fight alongside us, they’re no threat.
We’ll see how it goes. They’ve all been strictly warned that any prison behavior will lead to eviction. No debate.
This whole thing is going to be a work-in-progress. But right now, I don’t give a good Goddamn about any of it.
I just wanna wash my balls.
Coming up the staircase feels surreal. So much has changed, and yet it’s like déjà vu. Rook, Joy, and I, dragging our tired asses up to the third floor, exhausted and ready to lose ourselves in one another.
Outside of our bedroom, we bump into Dante Shen, a former guard-turned-capo, he worked with us about six years ago, until the Warden transferred him to help with some cartel business in Miami. And then, when the prison fell, he was brought back to fight against us.
Talk about a conflict of interest.
“Yo…” Dante says warily, bag of his belongings slung over his shoulder. “I just wanted to say I hope there are no hard feelings.”
Rook, Joy and I share a look before they shuffle into the bedroom, leaving me to do leader shit.
“I was just following orders,” he rumbles, nervously. Like he thinks I might try to hit him or something.
I chuckle, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s cool, man. I get it. Been there.”
He huffs. “Right. You definitely have…”
“I’m not saying I wouldn’t be feeling some type of way if we’d lost.” I smirk. “But then I’d probably be dead, so it wouldn’t much matter.”
He blinks. “Bro… there was no way you were gonna lose.” I scoff, but he goes on, “No, I’m serious.
And you sure as shit weren’t gonna die. We all knew it was only a matter of time.
He refused to hit you guys as hard as he obviously could have.
I mean, he brought over enough reinforcements to wipe out three islands, but half the time, most of us were just standing around. ”
Gaze narrowed, I stare at him for a second, considering this. Of course, I knew The Ivory was holding back. In the moment, I told myself it was a tactic, because I had to. I refused to let him get into my head again by making me think he cared too much to actually kill me.
As it turns out, that’s exactly what was happening.
It’s interesting, and also infuriating. That war was as close to pointless as it gets. But then… isn’t war usually sort of pointless?
It always comes down to pride. Even when fighting for a purpose, one side refuses to stand down first. Everyone wants to win, and it’s a fucked-up game to play when people’s lives are on the line.
The moral of this story is that revenge accomplishes nothing but more pain. The real closure comes from taking a step back and seeing the bigger picture. And if that’s the metric, than The Ivory actually won this war.
Typical. Has to win even when he loses.
Casting Shen a tired smile, I hum, “It’s good to see you, kid.” My eyes fall to his bag, brow furrowing. “You should stay. This place was your home once too.”
He chuckles, “Thanks, man. But actually, I’ve been dying to get back. Gotta girl down there waiting on me.”
“Good for you.” I pull him in for a half-hug, teasing, “Bet she’ll be thrilled to get your dumb ass back.”
“Fuck off, dick.” He pats my back, grinning his way up to the hall to the stairs.
I watch him go for a second, feeling all kinds of warm and fuzzy shit. Until the sound of water running reminds me of what’s really important here.
Shower.
More specifically, our first shower in weeks that doesn’t involve boiling water and lugging it all the way to the prison showers, then dumping it over each other.
Sounds hot, right?
No. It wasn’t. In more ways than one.
We talked about it ad nauseam… How karma was coming back to bite us in the ass, after the way we treated those prisoners. For years, abusing them, neglecting them, extorting them…
I have no misconceptions about who I am. I’m not a good guy. But like most things, good and evil are a spectrum. And compared to others, I guess we’re the lesser of two evils.
And now, here we are… Having prevailed.
With the water washing away the stresses of war.
Moments pass in silence. Just the three of us, huddled together. The shower is decent, but still, Rook and I are huge, so we have to sort of sandwich Joy to make sure she’s not left out in the cold.
Naturally, it turns frisky quick.
“I’m so tired, I couldn’t even lie back and let you fuck me unconscious,” she yawns, determined despite her words, stroking us both, one in each fist.
I have to chuckle. “Which one of us are you talking to?”
“All of you,” she grumbles, and we both laugh.
“Don’t worry, Cherry. I’m riding the tail-end of an insomnia-ridden adrenaline-high,” I hum. “I gotchu. Just open those legs up and let me do the work.”
“You’re the best,” she mumbles as if she’s already almost asleep, petting me on the head when I crouch down, stuffing my face between her thighs.
Alternating between licking her and sucking him, I’m stiff as fuck and hazy in an instant.
Rook fists my hair, guiding my mouth up and down on his dick, then stuffs me onto Joy’s pussy.
It gets me blazing enough that by the time my cherry is whimpering and gushing on my tongue, I’m so ready for some rough and deep.
Standing up fast, I shove a bottle of something at Rook. I think it’s conditioner, but I really don’t care. Just…
“Pour it on your dick and get in me,” I pant, wobbling from the head-rush of standing up too fast. “Whoa…”
Rook steadies me with his hands on my waist. “Slow down, baby. You haven’t eaten in like thirty-six hours, or slept in who fucking knows how long.”
“I lost count at fifty-six,” I breathe, spinning around and leaning against the shower wall, popping my ass out. “But I want your dick in me more than I want to sleep, so let’s go. Chop chop, Rook.” I grin lazily over my shoulder. “We’re burning daylight here.”
He cackles, palming my ass. “You’re still in Captain mode.”
“Uh-huh.” I catch Joy when she slumps into my side, practically snoring.
“I should get Joyful here to bed,” he hums.
She waves him off, nestling into me. “I’m fine. Go about your business.”
“See? She’s fine. Now plow me like a cornfield, cowboy. I won’t ask again.”
He snickers, taking my chin in his fingers, kissing me over my shoulder. “I have always wanted to know how it feels to fuck a monarch.”
I growl into his mouth, pillaging his tongue with mine. It earns me a rough shiver from him and a thrust of his hips, poking me in the cheek with his giant erection.
The piercings are Harley’s kryptonite.
“King Chevelle wants his ass filled?” He croons, lubing it with the conditioner then nudging into me.
“Yes, please,” I purr.
“Beg more,” he commands, pushing and shoving.
“Please put your big cock in me, Harley.” I’m trembling and so eager, he’s able to make it in almost instantly. “Uhh, fuck… just like that…”
“Like this?” He hums, watching my eyes, then my lips, drilling into me from behind, so slowly that I feel every ridge.
“Fuuuckyea, cowboy…” I let out a gruff mewl, eyes rolling back.
“That’s it, your highness,” he kisses the words onto my lips, then my neck, then my shoulders, holding me open while he slides it in nice and deep. “Take this dick from your loyal subject.”
“Oh… ohh please please.”
“Please what?”
“Fffuck my ass…”
Drawing back, he drives in again, pumping into me until I yelp.
“Shh…” Rook grins, practically nailing me to the wall. “We wouldn’t want everyone to hear how slutty their leader is.”
“I’m… p-pretty sure they… uhhfuck right there… already know.”
“Shit, babe…” Rook shudders, arms circling me, fingers teasing my erection where it’s trapped between me and the tile. “I’m not gonna last… You’re too damn tight.”
“Come in me,” I plead, head swirling. Seeing fucking stars.
I’m already close myself, since it’s been a few days and I’m keyed as hell. Every brush of his perfect dick on my spot is euphoria.
The climax is coming up quick when there’s a knock at the door to the bedroom. Still, Rook doesn’t stop.
“Go away,” I snarl, leaning back against his chest, eyes closed, heavy breathing echoing off the shower walls.
“Hello?? Chevelle and company?” It’s fucking Fenwick. “I’m here for your massage appointment!”