Stalking Nightmares (Scarlett Force #4)

Prologue

Scarlett

“Open up, pet.” The mobster uses his gloved thumb to draw his rival’s lower lip down, forcing the man to part his jaws or show resistance. In this place, resistance is death.

Ash Kelly is a picture of hatred and surrender on his knees, sloe-eyed and enraged. Alexei Borisov is impervious and luxe, bossy and expensive.

Who knew our fate would come down to dicksucking? What are the odds?

I slip my leather jacket off, setting it gently on the floor.

Quietly. Bohnes is filming, and I don’t need anyone on the other side of that camera to know I’m helping these boys out.

My red romper is next. I unbutton the sides and slip the cap sleeves from my shoulders, letting it pool around my heels like blood before I kick it off.

Dressed in red lingerie, heels, and tenacity, I decide to put on a little strip show for Alexei. You know, to help him get it up. If he doesn’t get an erection and then shove that erection into Ash’s pretty little demon mouth, we are all fucked.

Did I mention that I saw a man get eaten alive by a rat today?

Yeah. Not keen to recreate the experience.

If it comes down to fuckboys sucking each other’s cocks or having an overheated rodent claw its way into my chest cavity while searching for escape, well. Easy choice.

Widow paces like an animal behind me, red-hot and pissed off and reliving his worst trauma in a bedroom at the Borisov guesthouse. Behind the phone screen in Bohnes’ hand, a man with a cigar sits as judge, jury, and executioner. Whether we live or die all comes down to this moment.

See, the mob is trying to catch us in a teensy, weensy little lie.

We are lying, by the way.

I slide my hand down my naked belly, dipping my fingers beneath the panty lace to find my aching pussy. My very, very wet pussy. Dripping. Yes, on the same day I saw a guy get eaten by a rodent, I’m having a sexual awakening.

“Wider, doki-doki boy,” I whisper fervently. Ash hears me, his spine going stiff as he wraps his fingers around the base of Alexei’s cock. Two straight boys caught in a conundrum. Two straight boys whose fates are twisted up in tattoos inked with the ashes of the dead. Matching fates.

My body goes rabid with pleasure as I slide a nail across the silk above my clit, plumping it up like the biggest swinging dick in this room. Alexei can see me biting my lip, enjoying myself. Ash can’t see anything, his back to the camera.

Fortunately for him, he doesn’t need to be turned-on to get his mouth wet.

Is it terrible of me that I like this? Does it matter? They’re doing it regardless, whether they like it or not. And they like it a whole hell of a lot more than us dying an agonizing death.

The mob does not mess around.

Last night was our wedding night, and today I’m served this shit?

The universe has strange ways of balancing out a bitch’s life.

It’s been mere hours since I emerged from the woods, naked, with a crew of psychotic boys in tow.

Frostbitten (not literally). Fucked (quite literally). Married (legally and illegally).

I’m a serial killer, so who gives an actual shit if I break the law by becoming a successful polyandrist on the side?

Now, I just need to make sure that Ash takes that cock like a good boy, that he makes Alexei cum hard for the camera.

“Fuck.” Alexei uses control as a weapon, crushing his germaphobe tendencies to dust in the name of survival.

The black leather glove he’s wearing ends up wound through Ash’s dark hair like manacles.

“I can’t wait. I need you now.” Using his other hand, Alexei takes hold of his waning erection and forces it boldly into Ash’s waiting pink mouth, choking him.

“Listen, wife.” Widow’s lips are near my ear, his declaration drawing Bohnes’ bemused attention.

How Bohnes even got into this room at all is a mystery.

He’s talented enough to literally sneak past the mob.

Or…they already know about him and this is all about to go downhill.

“You and I need to heat this room up. Alexei’s not hard enough to properly throat-fuck Ash.

We should fix that. Take your panties off. ”

“Sex or murder,” Bohnes mouths silently, winking and throwing his hood up as he crouches down like an urban gargoyle, draped in a dark gray sweatshirt and matching joggers.

The phrase ‘Eat This—Deadass’ is scrawled across the butt.

Weird, the things we notice in a crisis.

He keeps the phone angled up, ensuring he gets the best, most dynamic shots of this depravity.

Sex or murder? I wonder, watching Ash slide his lips down the length of Alexei’s shaft.

They’re both in dark moods. Dark. Fuckin’ dark.

Bet you they’re fantasizing about killing their way out of this mess, spattering the grounds with gore.

If it gets Alexei off, so be it. If it gets Ash through this, even better.

Sex and murder, it seems.

Widow steps up beside me, his amber eyes on the unfolding trauma in front of us.

His breath releases in a rush and his expression transmutes the emotions of violence, compassion, and surrender into an eerie, inhuman beauty.

Something is changing in him right now. I can tell, because that day by the lake, when he kissed me, he wore this same expression.

He turns, catches me watching him, and then lifts a cocky brow.

Hooking my thumbs under the edges of my panties, I drag them down my thighs. The fuckboy on his knees is sucking greedily on the other’s cock. Against his will. Against both their wills.

Widow needs to fuck me or he’s going to lose his shit.

And over what? Ash.

I smirk as I bend over the edge of an antique desk, artfully littered with letters written in Russian.

We’ll finish up this little chore and then paint the town red.

We have until New Year’s to eradicate all of the mob’s enemies in Springfield.

It ain’t easy, being part of the family.