Epilogue Two
Scarlett
New Year’s morning, a brand-new day, and a brand-new life…
Some asshole stole my pillow.
I’m not sure which one since there are four of them in bed with me. I’ve got four half-naked psychos under the sheets and it’s so distracting that I could barely sleep last night.
I sit up, working out a crick in my neck. I try to surreptitiously check for my stolen pillow. Ash is still asleep, curled into a fetal position and hugging a pillow. Ah, and he’s got another under his head. That’s where my pillow went. That’s it. I’m stealing some pillows from a guest room.
“You could’ve just cuddled me,” I growl, reaching down and pinching Ash’s cheek. He wakes in an instant, flashing to consciousness like he was never asleep at all. He was though. I’m sure of that. Just used to returning to consciousness at the slightest disturbance, a defense mechanism.
“Mm. See, but I thought it was you,” Ash mumbles groggily, yawning and curling even tighter around his pillow lover. Widow is on his other side, lying on his back with his arms folded behind his head. He’s staring up at the ceiling, frowning. Trying to puzzle his way through something.
I turn to look over my shoulder, at Alexei standing up from the bed so that he can immediately head for the shower.
“Good morning,” I say with all of this extra false fucking cheer. It sounds ridiculous. I should’ve added a fuck to that sentence, so it would seem more natural. Alexei gives me an odd look, like he doesn’t trust the sweet wifey routine. As he shouldn’t. He knows I’m a killer.
I smile, which probably makes me even creepier.
“Good morning, rodnaya,” he replies, before disappearing into the bathroom. He leaves the door wide open. If he closed it to shower, we’d have problems. He understands that.
“You awake, my dark love?” I ask Bohnes, looking down at him.
He’s lying on his side, hands pillowed under his head like he’s praying (LOL, he would never).
It takes me a few seconds to realize that he is still asleep.
My breath catches. There’s this pang in my chest that hurts but feels good, too.
He can finally sleep. And he’s exhausted. For years, he’s been exhausted.
This is dark magic. Dark fucking magic. If I were a normal bitch, I’d have tears or something. Instead, I’m tempted to slither under the covers and suck him off. See if he wakes up from that. I bite my thumbnail.
Ash reaches up to stop me, his own thumbnail bloodied from gnawing.
The pair of us stare at one another, and his fingers tighten ever so slightly on my wrist.
An invitation.
Last night, with all the fam around, we stayed up too long and ended up not fucking again.
I push Ash’s wrists down into the pillows, climbing over him and pinning him underneath me. I’m holding him prisoner as Widow’s gaze slides over to the pair of us. Me, in a loose sleeping shirt and no panties, wet pussy grinding against Ash’s boxers. Desperate but gentle.
That wound beneath Ash’s navel…
My throat tightens up, and I slow my rolling hips. The last thing in the world I want to do is hurt this man.
“We’re gonna take care of you,” I tell Ash, feeling the tension in his arms. “Forever and ever and ever.”
“Take care of me?” Ash repeats, sounding weird. He swallows roughly and tries to avert his eyes. “You’ve all done more than enough of that, thank you. It’s my turn to repay the favor.”
Uuuggggh, he sounds so juicy and British. Those years in a fancy boarding school did him good. Yum.
Good accents are like sprinkles over ice cream, the absolute best bite of the sundae.
“Fuck,” I blurt, a little aggressively, dragging my teeth over my lip. “By that, I mean we’ll make Jonas suffer, even while he’s behind bars. Not petty shit like stabbing out his eyes, but true horror. Bohnes excels in it.”
“It’s easy,” Widow murmurs, closing his eyes. He doesn’t seem like he’s trying to block out the sight of me sitting on top of Ash. It’s more like he’s relaxed. “Just do it Jonas’ way: figure out what he cares most about and destroy it.”
“Theatrics, is what she means,” Bohnes murmurs, all snuggled up in an unzipped hoodie and boxers.
Sleeves pushed up. Hood off. His white hair is messy in a way I’ll never get tired of seeing.
Oh shit. Kellin Bohnes’ morning hair. Sleep-tousled.
I bite my lip and grind my hips, rewarding Ash for Bohnes’ good looks.
“Like blinding and then neutering the fall guy before he ever ends up in prison.”
“Or shoving a guy’s severed dick into its owner’s mouth before you execute him,” I remind them both, grinding down on Ash even harder. I lift my sleeping shirt and take it off, tossing it aside and baring my tits. I want them to look at them. When they bounce, I want eyes on me.
Just these eyes though. Peepers will be shot and buried in a shallow grave.
“I’m glad you enjoyed our gift, wife.” Bohnes rolls partially over, capturing me with his impossible eyes. He’s endless, Kellin is. Limitless. Each morning I wake up with him beside me, it’s like meeting for the first time all over again. Bats in the belly. Giddy, fluttering bats.
I grind on Ash again.
“I’m gonna fuck you real quick, so that we can start the new year right.” Wiggling around on Ash. Making him groan. Feeling him wet the front of his boxers with pre-cum. Holding him down even though he’s making no effort to escape. “It’s bad luck to begin a fresh arc with celibacy.”
Widow’s eyes are open now, and they’re exactly where they should be: on my tits. He looks up at me when I look down at him, challenging me with his feral wolf eyes and his pristine haircut.
“Hurry up with him because you’re mine when you’re done. I’m exercising my free use rights.” Widow smirks, arms folded behind his head, joggers pushed low on his hips. They’re purple ones, with a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle on the side. I think it’s Donatello.
“You can’t do that because I was going to exercise mine first and fuck you,” I retort, lifting up on my knees. I look back at Ash. “Give me your dick.”
Ash’s eyes are like pits in the earth, like dark dirt and bones under wet graveyard grass. He’s completely surrendered his existence to me. I determine whether Ash Force lives or dies. I’ve decided definitively that he’s going to live.
I grip his cock and hold him still, putting the tip against me, rubbing my hole against his head. I lean down, putting pressure on both of his wrists with my other hand. If he really wanted to fight me, it’d be tough to hold Ash with one hand.
But no.
He’s more than happy to comply, melting beneath me like the heat of my body has reduced him to liquid.
Bet I look like some sort of femme fatale ghost with killer hair, like in The Grudge.
Or that movie, The Ring. Mounds of menacing black hair and a heart full of vengeance.
Yep. I am definitely a ghost. I’ve even got red ink on my rib cage with my dead friend’s ashes mixed in it.
Plus, I have a pretty high body count (in murder, not in bed).
“Whose free use rights come first? Mine or yours?” Widow wonders aloud, trying to distract me. I ignore him, shoving my hips down against Ash and removing my hand from his shaft at the same time. Our pelvises slam together as he slips all the way into me, and my eyes nearly roll back in my head.
That feels good. So good.
“Did you really need to ask that question, Adrian?” Bohnes purrs, stifling some of his dark laughter in another of the expensive frou-frou feather pillows. “The answer is painfully obvious.”
I start riding Ash, mercilessly. No fanfare. I just grind him into the bed however I want (while forcing my horny ass to remember that he’s sans one of his precious kidneys).
I’ve never seen a person so grateful to be alive.
I stare into his eyes, taking in more dark magic, soaking myself in it. I am a dark magician and he is my spell, cast in these twisted sheets. A blessing, A miracle.
“You gonna make breakfast today, Mr. Force?” I tease, releasing my grip on his wrists. I roll my hips around a little and he grabs onto my hair, forcing my mouth down to his.
“Hai.” Ash flips us over with a muttered curse, panting above me.
“Your incision—” I start, but he cuts me off by covering my mouth with his inked hand, our wedding ring driven into his flesh and blood with a needle.
Bohnes is pressed close against the pair of us, gazing obsessively down at me. Widow is on the other side, starving for it.
Adrenaline surges through me, hot and heady on this fresh New Year’s morning.
“How is it that you make me forget everything but what’s happening in the immediate present?” Ash wonders, more to himself than to me. He takes hold of the headboard and shamelessly fucks me in front of the other two.
Ash’s orgasm comes just as Alexei appears in a towel, skin scrubbed pink, staring down at us on the bed.
Ash unravels inside of me, holding on tight as he goes over the edge. He snatches my face in strong fingers and forces me to look at him. Not that I was looking anywhere else, baby.
I have an orgasm, too, clenching around Ash’s dick with our eyes locked and my nails digging into his back. Ash waits for me to finish and then looks from one side of us to the other. Bohnes and Widow, right there. Alexei, still standing beside the bed.
This is an average morning for us; I’m having an orgy for breakfast.
I put a hand on Ash’s shoulder, lifting up to kiss him on the mouth. Slow. Unhurried. And then I push him off with a wink.
“If you tear your stitches, honey, I will end you.” I roll over and adjust myself, so that I’m draped across Bohnes’ lap. He’s leaned back in the pillows, white hair tousled and expression blissed-out. His mouth is smug, and his eyes are worse.