53. Chapter 48
Cora’s scream wakes me from a dreamless sleep. I bolt upright, reaching for her. My hand lands on her bare breast.
“You can’t do that,” Cora breathes out.
I pull my hand away, brows knitting. She sure hasn’t minded before. Blinking my vision clear, I prop myself on my elbow to look at her face. Her eyes focus on the end of the bed as she sucks in one lungful after another, her hand moving over her heart.
“Good morning,” Striker says, his voice making me jolt. I shift to look toward the end of the bed. He’s sitting in the chair by the window, legs sprawled out, hands resting on the arms. The early morning light leaking in through the drapes, highlighting his features. The grin he gives us makes my breathing shallow, and between my legs throbs, like my body’s remembering all the places he’s been.
Where they were.
I’m not sure how we got upstairs. I vaguely remember Striker carrying me to bed and tucking me in, while Breaker laid Cora next to me before I passed out.
Getting fucked by four men, one right after another, really wears a woman out.
Cora pushes the hair back from her face, glancing at me as she lies back against the headboard, not bothering to cover up. If the state of her is any sign of what I look like, we need a shower and a brush. Her red curls stick out from having so many hands running through it. Her cheeks are flushed red, no doubt from remembering last night too, and several bite marks travel down from her breast to her belly.
Shit.Was that me?
Last night was so intense, I don’t doubt I bit into her flesh like an animal. I wanted to devour her. Be devoured by them as well.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, leaning forward in the seat, resting his forearms on his thighs.
Striker’s wearing jeans.
I sit upright, to better look at him, the blanket falling away. His focus shifts to me, gaze traveling silkily over my body. I’ve never seen him in any other clothes besides their uniforms. I really, really like the jeans. He’s still wearing a tight black long-sleeved shirt and his boots, but the jeans are new and…
Shit. He’s incredibly sexy.
“Sore,” Cora says. “My cunt feels like I got thoroughly fucked.”
Striker’s lip curls up. “Because you did.” His eyes slide my way and he lifts one of those perfect brows.
I bite my lip. He knows damn well I’m sore.
“Breakfast?” Cora asks, tossing the blankets back. Striker’s gaze drags down her naked body, raking over her pebbled nipples and her bare pussy as she stands. My gaze slides over her pretty flesh too. “I’m famished.”
“Get cleaned up and we’ll head downstairs to eat.” He leans back again, propping his ankle on a knee, eyes tracking her as she walks toward him.
“You mean we get company for breakfast again? You’re not going to disappear for another two weeks, then pop back up when you want to get your dick wet?”
The smirk he gives her is so devilish it makes his entire face look almost boyish. “I plan on getting my dick wet again, as you so eloquently put it, after you both eat.”
Nowmy cheeks heat. I shift, sitting upright to lean against the cold metal headboard. Striker’s eyes move from Cora to me and his brows knit when he sees me wince.
“Or maybe after dinner,” he says.
“So we get you for dinner too?” Cora asks, slinking over to him, hips swaying. When she stops in front of him, he grips her waist and brings her down onto his lap.
“And lunch,” he says, nestling his face into her messy hair. Her eyes move to me, like she’s checking my reaction. I smile, lifting a brow. “And breakfast tomorrow too, if you can handle my company for that long.”
My belly dips. That sounds…
I’m not sure how that sounds.
Oddly domestic?
I sink back down into the bed, heart thundering as what he’s saying cuts through my mind, fragmenting into a million different thoughts. Splinters of all the information I’ve nearly drowned in slices into my lungs, air suddenly hard to suck in.
“What next?” I ask Striker, inhaling deeply to center my racing thoughts. He lifts his head from Cora’s hair, a strange expression passing over his features.
It feels odd knowing him, being familiar with him in so many intimate ways, but not knowing how to read his expressions.
“We have breakfast.” He smiles, biting his lip. My body aches, but I want to take that lip between my teeth as I sink down onto him again.
I shake the thought from my head. It would be easy to stay here. Live in whatever it is we’ve just created, pretend bad things don’t exist beyond these walls, but I want to know their plans.
“So we aren’t going to deal with this?” I ask.
Striker helps Cora to her feet, tapping her bare ass as she walks toward the armoire. “Right now, we’re going to have breakfast.”
I nod, pulling the covers up around my chin. It’s obvious we can’t go back, at least not yet, but we have to at some point. I have to deal with this. With my father and all this knowledge living in my head.
I need to deal with Clyde.
There’s no way he doesn’t know about my father’s…. Hunts. He’s been with my father since he began Rune Corportations, helping guide him. Clyde has to know about the lodge. That has to be why he always told me I would be bored or hate to be stuck out in the middle of nowhere with zero cell reception.
Zane.
Fucking Zane. He has to know, too.
My stomach churns.
“—if you want to,” Cora’s saying.
My gaze snaps up to her. Her brows raise like she’s waiting for an answer.
“Sure,” I say, not even caring what I’ve just agreed to. Anything would be a nice distraction from the chaos in my head.
Cora grabs a dress, then pulls one of mine out of the armoire. “What’s for breakfast?” she asks, sauntering over to the bathroom, Striker tracking her every move.
Last night, he barely touched her. I think I’d like to watch him fuck her.
“Reaper made pancakes,” he says, rising from the chair.
“Reaper?” Cora and I say at the same time.
The one and only time I caught Reaper in the kitchen over the last few weeks, he was making a sandwich. He dropped everything, knife clattering to the plate, and left the room, leaving it and everything else on the counter when he stalked out. Like my presence was enough to disgust him to the point he lost his appetite.
Now, I know that’s not true. Not with how he fucked me last night. He”s craved me as desperately as I craved him.
A chuckle breaks free as the image of him standing over the stove, flipping pancakes in his mask, fills my head.
They both look my way.
I slip back under the sheets.
“Get cleaned up,” Striker says, stalking across the room toward the bed. I eat up the strong hard planes of his body, the way the jeans hug his dick and how muscles move in his arms.
I wonder, watching his eyes darken as he moves forward, dragging me from the bed, and pushing me toward the bathroom, if what Reaper said is true.
If we belong to them and they’ll never let us go, I wonder if that means they’re ours too.
Because I think I like the idea of them belonging to me.
Think I really, really like the idea of these four men belonging to Cora, who needs someone strong, someone dangerous and edged with violence to keep her safe.