Chapter 28 Seth
Seth
“MAYBE SHE POISONED THE SCONES OR SOMETHING.”
Citizen Soldier Playlist
“You Are Enough”
Rory looks like he’s about to eat her, or well…eat her the other kind of way.
Watching her handle my partner in a way I never could, yeah, that gets me hard. The way her tits look in that dress, half hanging out, yeah, that gets me harder. Especially when she bent at the waist to grab a mixing bowl, showing off those pretty, rosy tips.
Everyone underestimates me. I do what I need to fit in, belong, and make myself useful.
My charm is a tool like everything else. But inside? With or without the rest, I’m dying to bend her over the counter, rub her face in the flour, and fuck her hard from behind. Need to feel her. Feel something other than all the shit we’ve been through.
I’m a switch. Rory can use me as he wants because I’m strong enough to handle it. His hot blood. His crazy. And his monster dong.
It was one of the best moments of my life, reminding him how strong I am in that cave when I rode him like my bitch, dug my cock in so deep, I rearranged his insides.
With Briella, I’m all dom. If she brats off to me, I’ll grab her hair, kiss her hard, and dare her to try it again. My body thrums with hunger, restless. I need an outlet. Can’t keep standing here watching her put Rory in his place, and those perfect tits nearly spilling out of her dress.
Gotta go chop some wood. Or fix the fence on the south side. Do what I do best. The tools become an extension of my body. I won’t think about that spill of violet curls, big hazel eyes, and the way her hot pussy felt around my cock. Sharp heat shoots to my length.
At least the smell of the scones helps.
“Sooo,” I cut through the tensioned silence. “If Briella Darling is Snow White, we’re the dwarves.”
Vincent snorts behind me. “There were seven, dumbass. Not five.”
“I don’t mind,” Briella chimes in, her eyes occasionally flicking to Rory, who shifts uncomfortably against the counter. No idea what’s eating him. “I like to bake.” She shrugs. “I’m living in the woods with a bunch of clueless assholes with an actual mine.”
“I claim Dopey!” I thrust my hand up, waving it. When Briella shakes her head with a breathy laugh, my cock jerks in my pants. “Vincent is totally Grumpy.” I jerk my head back to him, and he grunts, which is confirmation enough.
“I’ll be Happy.” Jude lifts his hand in a salute on the side of his head, winking at her. Fuck, how she blushes for him.
“Who’s Raphael?” she wonders, staring at our alpha who doesn’t so much as blink.
“DOC.” All of us say in unison.
Her eyes sparkle when she looks at Rory. “Bashful.” He lifts his upper lip, baring his teeth in a silent snarl, but she tips her hat to him. “Red hair. Red beard. Red cheeks when he’s mad about his red ear.”
God, I need inside her. But one look at her chest and throat with all the teeth marks is a reminder of what I’d never do. I’m too wired. Too hot, I could give Rory a run for his blood. I have to adjust my pants. Then, the oven timer pings.
Thank fuck.
The four of us head for the table. It’s blindfold time. Gives me the perfect opportunity to shift my boxers. Raphael is the only one who doesn’t use a blindfold. He’s the most unbiased monster in the world.
“Move, Lass,” I hear Rory bark after we’re in the dark.
“What’s the magic word, Ginger Snap?”
Shit, I’m gonna come in my goddamn pants at this rate. Jude chuckles nearby.
Next is the sound of two plates set before each of us.
“Choose whichever one you want to,” Briella says sweetly.
“Doesn’t matter. In the end, they’ll choose mine, Firecracker. I’ll love watching ye on yer knees.”
“Me too.”
There’s a knowing hint in her voice. Like, even if she loses, she’ll still get him on his knees. I hear him clear his throat a few times while I pick up the scone on my left.
The sweet flavor bursts in my mouth. It’s nice and fluffy, with just a hint of zesty orange and cinnamon. Perfect balance. Not too heavy, not too sweet. I can’t help but feel the tiniest twinge of approval. And I sure fucking hope it’s hers.
I try the one on the right. Meh. It’s a little too sweet, especially with the thick glaze on top. It’s almost cloying, and while the texture’s good, it’s definitely trying too hard.
“The left one,” Vincent is the first to say.
“Same,” I add.
“I like the right one,” Jude mentions. He’s always liked things a little sweeter.
We all wait on Raphael. His vote counts as two, so he’s the deciding factor. I can practically feel the suspense so thick, I could cut it with my dullest axe.
And then… “The left is the winner.”
Before we even get our blindfolds off, Rory belts out a victory wallop. My eyes adjust in time to see him grab her hair and lick the side of her neck. She doesn’t even flinch.
For fuck’s sake. I rise to my feet as he croons, tapping into his flirty drunk side, “Seven PM sharp, Firecracker. Ye better be naked and on your knees by my chair like a good little Lass.”
He lets go of her hair way too quickly. Doubles over like he’s got a mother fucking PMS cramp. His eyes widen.
And Briella? She tilts her head, beaming at him, her body language just as flirtatious. “Aww, big Red, does the porcelain throne count as a chair?”
The others approach behind me.
Except for Raphael. Damn psycho is still standing against the wall. But he’s smiling. An actual smile. What. The. Fuck?
“What the bloody hell did you do to me?” Rory groans deeply, holding his side. He’s sweating like a Scottish pig.
“Maybe she poisoned the scones or something.” Nah. That doesn’t track. None of us is feeling sick.
Briella does a twirl, tossing her curls over her shoulder. “Don’t be silly, Seth. I’d never ruin such greatness. Not even his. I poisoned his Scotch.”
Our jaws drop. Rage fills Rory’s blazing blue eyes, but his stomach gurgles so loudly, it sounds like one of those mud pots with the acidic hot spring beneath. Ready to erupt.
When Rory’s face pales—because we’re all wondering if it’s really true, like actual poison—Briella throws her head back and laughs. “Just kidding!” She sings before winking at him. “Don’t worry, Red. It’s just some magnesium citrate and castor oil.”
“Holy shit!” Jude exclaims, and we all turn to the guy who knows chemicals and shit like that. He’s holding his mouth and jaw, covering his uncontrollable laughter, but it blows out anyway.
“Spit. It. Out, Happy,” Rory snarls and doubles over again.
“Um…you’re gonna be spitting it out soon, Red. Out of your ass,” he adds, unable to stifle the laughter. He claps slowly, applauding her. “Well done, Babydoll.”
“What did she do?” I still ask.
Jude grins from ear to ear. “She put a laxative in his whiskey.”
Holy. Fucking. Goddess!
Lowering her head toward Rory, Briella smacks his ass, and he groans again, clenching his eyes, sweating more. “Let it out, Lad. Be a good boy and just let it out,” she urges him…just like he did with her in the dungeon with the enema.
He swipes at her, but Briella dances out of the way. Another gurgle. Another groan. Oh…and he makes a beeline for the nearest bathroom.
“You probably want to avoid that one.” She looks at all of us.
“Yeah, he’ll be in there all night,” Jude adds.
With my dick raging hotter and harder than ever, I cross three steps toward her, drop to my knees, and make prayer hands. “Briella Darling. Goddess divine. Marry me!”