19 Everett
June 1st, 2022
This meeting seemed more like an ambush than anything else. Especially with it being here in Colorado rather than in Washington.
Not to mention that everyone was here, including Azrael, which was rare. He almost never came to meetings.
Malachi had rented out a private room in the back of some stripper joint across town called The Alibi, and although the room was filled with bright-colored couches, nobody was sitting save for Malachi, Azrael, and our sisters, who were all sitting on the same couch, legs crossed, eyes hard.
The music was muffled in this room, a couple of stripper poles stationed in the center, but I had a sneaking suspicion that none of us would get any show tonight.
My eyes found Greyson’s. He was the only one with different colored eyes than us. We all had shades of blue, even Malachi and Beckett, but Greyson? His were hazel. Just another reason why he was separate from the rest of us. “How’s the hole?”
He instinctively rubbed his chest where the bullet had pierced him exactly 2 months ago now. “Hurts, healing.”
I was shocked he lived through that. Still, he should have been watching his back, and Azrael should have been too.
Azrael was the best of us when it came to fighting. He hardly ever got hit, and when he did, it was usually our fault, so the fact that Greyson had gotten hit while he was there shocked me.
“Let’s get to business,”
Beckett began, stepping up to the arm of the couch Malachi was sitting on. “I respect the choices Greyson and Jack made—”
I laughed, realizing quickly why exactly we were here. “I have done this with multiple other girls. They,”
I said, throwing my hand towards the girls, “have done it too. With both men and women. What is your problem with me having this one pay her debt with her pussy?”
What the fuck was happening? Malachi told me to do this. I was under his orders. Why did Beckett keep coming after me for this fucking debt? It was getting goddamn irritating at this point.
“It has been very clear to me that the closer you boys get to these broken women, the harder it is for you to pull away from them. Their pussies aren’t magical, they’re a dime a dozen. Find a whore, fuck her, drop the debt, and move on. We don’t need the money.”
“Emily is not a dime a dozen,”
Greyson stated coldly. “And as much as I respect you, Beckett, be careful how you speak about my girl or I’ll show you exactly how far I’m willing to go to protect her.”
Beckett spared him a bare glance before turning back to me. “Pelgard is dead, dismembered, if I remember correctly, the debt is waived.”
I searched his eyes, my confusion growing. “What is it about this girl that is causing you to order a meeting to get me to drop the debt, which, by the way, we have never done before. Not unless they really fuck us. We always get the payment, that is the point of this alias.”
“An alias you will have to drop if your idea of the college goes through,”
Beckett stated. “He owed the Kingsmen less than 200,000 dollars. Chump change in our world. It’s nothing. Having her pay it off would keep her on the leash for years, Everett. Isn’t that how that works? How long are you going to fuck her before you grow bored and kill her anyway?”
I worked my jaw, my hands itching for my gun. “Did you want to fuck her?”
I challenged. “Is that what this is about? You want a piece of her pussy so you’re trying to get me to drop it in order to have her all to yourself?”
His face twisted.
“Have at it,”
I told him, my own gut twisting. “Any one of you can have at it, except for you,”
I went on, pointing to Azrael.
His smile only grew behind his creepy broken mask.
“The debt is owed to the Kingsmen’s, not me. All of us. We can all pick up the debt.”
Beckett’s blue eyes flamed. “You’ve already fallen for her, haven’t you?”
I was going to fucking kill him. “I’m keeping our name where it needs to be on this fucking board,”
I said through my teeth. “Letting people go is not what the Kingsmen do, let alone Malachi Adler’s sons. We don’t let the prey go, we devour them.”
Beckett took a step towards me. “If you haven’t already fallen for her, then why are you defending her?”
“I’m defending my practices,”
I snarled. “Our practices. My orders. Are we not taking pussy as payment anymore? Is that a new rule now that Jack and Greyson have married their fucking addictions? Because if so, maybe you should talk to your damn brother about how he runs us, seeing as how he ordered this.”
Evelyn and Zo looked over at that, Evelyn’s brows lifted. “Please do not tell me we’re going to outlaw that. It’s the best part about this job.”
Becks watched her for a moment before turning back to me. “Drop her. Get rid of her.”
I straightened my spine, my hands clenched at my sides. “No. Not unless you can give me a good reason why you want her gone. Why her and not the dozen before her.”
A muscle in his jaw feathered, but he didn’t respond. He only looked fuming. Angry. Filled with rage.
“It’s because she’s going to die,”
Azrael finally said, pulling every eye to him.
My brows furrowed at his confession. “What?”
He shrugged, toying with the tip of his cane, one ankle resting on his knee. “Times are changing, dear sweet mountain-boy,”
he hummed. “People are growing hearts where once rested only stone, and it all started with the dear sweet little daffodil Jack-boy plucked from the field.”
Jack’s eyes hardened, but he didn’t say a word, he didn’t have to. Unlike Emily, Rae could hold her own just fine, and we all knew it. Taking cheap shots like that was a good way to get you on her bad list though, although, out of all of us, she and Azrael had always had a sort of comradery that just didn’t make sense to me.
“Now dear little Greyson is getting married to a prose of words wrapped in pleated plaid skirt, and you have found yourself a prickly rose. And while they have lasted longer in this life than I thought they would, your rose might be the first of them to die. But that’s not the only thing,”
he went on, dropping his foot and standing, Poppy mirroring his movements exactly. “What the problem truly is lies in your plans for our future, dear heir. Beckett is right. How will you carry on in this life you live if we are all teaching, grooming, molding mini-me’s for the future?”
I frowned. I hadn’t wanted that to be talked about yet. We couldn’t ‘get it started’ without Malachi’s approval, and now wasn’t the time to go over it. I was going to wait years to bring it up. Years.
I rolled my eyes and straightened. “I don’t give a fuck what change of hearts you people had, the Kingsmen’s are mine and Malachi’s gig. If he doesn’t give a shit, neither do I.”
My eyes found our so-called ‘father’.
Malachi continued to sit in silence, watching me carefully, his eyes filled with decisions, thoughts, ideas, that we would never know.
After a few seconds, he finally stood, dusted his hat off, and picked up his coat from the back of the couch, folding it over his arm. “This meeting was a waste of time. Carry on with your jobs, Everett, we shall talk about the future of this business in private at a later date. I’d like to know more about this college you wish to open up.”
Great.
I watched after him until he left the room before turning back to Beckett, who looked as if a dog just shit on his shoes. “I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to back off. There is a reason Malachi Kingsmen doesn’t have a brother.”
He shook his head, clear disappointment in his eyes. “It’s a mistake.”
With that, he headed for the door.
I sneered, rolling my eyes. “Waste of my time,”
I muttered, heading for the door myself. It was all bullshit. This was just another deal, another debt. Why was Olivia Lemont such a big deal to Beckett? Did he and her father do work together?
I didn’t know everything about his life, every deal he made, or secret he kept, but this? If it had to do with her, I felt I was owed an explanation. Dropping things without reason wasn’t in my genetic makeup. It never would be.
“What are you going to do, Ev?”
Evelyn asked, joining my side.
I flexed my hands, my knuckles popping. “I need to let off some steam. Find me a customer that hasn’t paid us. Now.”
“You’re not going to drop her?”
“She’s my toy, whether Beckett likes it or not. I’ll use her as I see fit. For however long I think is necessary.”
My little writer would never escape me, not even in her nightmares. I would make sure of it.
I pushed open her bedroom door just before midnight, Lucy looking up from where she lay at the end of her bed.
I gestured for her to get off as I made my way over to the bed, taking in Olivia’s sleeping form.
She had kicked her blankets nearly all the way off, her hair in a messy bun, wild and unruly, her light pink tank-top had come away from her right tit, exposing her pebbled nipple to the light streaming in from the doorway.
I still had blood splattered across my clothes from the last customer Evelyn had brought in for me. Five since we left The Alibi. It still wasn’t enough. I was still angry, still frustrated with Beckett’s little meeting.
The only rational explanation I had for his actions was that he wanted her too. He wanted a taste of the pussy I had procured working as Everett Kingsmen. Too bad for him, this debt was mine. Even thinking about the fact that they wanted her made my blood boil. They had so many chances to take their payments in pussy too, they didn’t need to take mine.
I stood above her, watching her breathe softly, her mouth open, a slow line of drool making its way to her silk pillowcases. Drooly girl, this one. Even without a gag in her mouth.
It made me wonder, not for the first time, what she would look like with my cock in her mouth, gagging and choking, sucking on it as if it were her lifeline.
But I wasn’t willing to go that far yet. Ripping her orgasms from her was one thing, sticking my cock into her was another.
My heart was already thudding at the anticipation of taking this payment though. Of making her realize that she wasn’t safe from me, not even in her own bed.
I leaned forward and slammed my hand over her mouth.
Her eyes flashed open, absolute terror filling them as her hands wrapped around my wrist, her breathing labored.
“Hello, little writer,”
I hummed, glancing to her heaving tits and back, my cock already aching.
She blinked a few times, the fear slowly shifting to absolute rage.
Perfect for me, I needed the fight.
“Shh,”
I instructed. “Wouldn’t want the poor police coming around here. I would hate to have their dead bodies on your conscious.”
She said something under my palm, causing me to roll my eyes and lift it from her mouth. “Say again.”
She licked her lips, taking her time to adjust herself, her pajama top, before finally repeating herself. “Fuck you.”
My expression dried. “You can get on your hands and knees willingly or I can force you to do it.”
I stepped back, watching her carefully, her eyes fixated on mine, shining and bright, filled with life and challenge.
She folded her arms across her chest and lifted a brow. “Why would I ever willingly let you do anything to me?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You already know the answer to that.”
Her expression shifted into death. “No, I don’t, why don’t you write it out for me.”
The already burning anger in me grew. I whipped my hand out, wrapped it around her jaw, and watched her wince when my fingers pulled on the wounds on the side of her face. New scars marring her perfect skin. They fit her far too well. “It’s not the night to play games with me.”
“Says the guy obsessed with chess,” she bit.
I snarled and ripped my hand away only to grab her arm and flip her onto her stomach.
I crawled onto the bed as she began struggling and fighting. It didn’t matter how much she fought; we both knew the truth of how she felt about this. We both knew exactly how much she craved it.
She grunted and struggled, blankets and pillows going everywhere as I forced her ass up, tore off her pink silk pajama bottoms, spread her knees, and finally grabbed for her wrists.
She continued to fight and struggle, but as soon as she saw the ribbon in my hand, I felt the fight ease. Either she knew she had lost, or she was tired of fighting what she craved.
Whatever the case, I had won. I always win.
I tied each of her wrists to the design in her headboard, forcing her to grab the top of it, her hair now coming out of her already unruly bun.
I sat back on my knees, admiring the view of her curved spine and little round ass pushed out just for me.
She glanced back, rage burning in her eyes. “Finally have the balls to actually fuck me?”
she taunted.
Is that what she wanted? A taste of my cock? There was a deep, needful part of me that wanted to give her exactly what she wanted, but another part of me, the angry, pissed off part, that still hated Beckett for what he said. She didn’t get a say in how she paid her debt. Not even if it aligned with my own lustful need.
I straightened up behind her, my cock as hard as a rock in my pants, my hands shaking in anger. “I fuck you every time I see you,”
I reminded, finding her eyes. “Or have you already forgotten what that collar means?”
She scoffed, turning away from me, pulling on the restraints around her wrists, only for the ribbon to tighten. “It’s hard to forget the man who brutally dismembered my ex right in front of me.”
“Having nightmares about me?”
I hummed, taking in her ass, her exposed cunt.
My cock throbbed in need, and whether it was intentional or not, she wiggled it at me like a goddamn dog going into heat.
“Yeah, and then I wake up and vomit to get the taste out of my mouth.”
I snarled, lifted my hand and brought it down on her right ass cheek.
Her entire body jerked, a handprint instantly appearing across her skin.
She hissed in pain, her hands tightening into that headboard, her breathing picking up.
“You need to watch that pretty little mouth of yours,” I warned.
“Aw,”
she cooed, looking back, her breathing hitched. “You think it’s pretty?”
I slapped her ass again, my hand burning from the force.
She jerked, panting. “Fuck,”
she gasped, dropping her head. “Stop doing—”
I slapped her again, my cock throbbing with every jerk of her body, every sound she made, my heart skipping. God, it felt good.
A whimper escaped her lips, and I slapped her again, watching as her back curved a bit more, her ass going higher.
My eyes widened and I slapped her again, snarling. She liked this too? Fuck! Was there anything this fucked up psychopath didn’t like?
She groaned, her legs spreading a little more, and I slapped her again, hard and quick, her ass bright red, my cock so goddamn hard, I thought I would cum if my pants rubbed it just the right way. “Stop,”
she told me breathlessly.
But I knew that voice, I knew exactly what it meant.
I grabbed her hip in my left hand and slid my right between her legs, feeling her entire body respond in relief as I found her soaking cunt. I wasn’t going to pretend I knew anything about the psychology of a person, but I did know there was some sort of deep, psychological explanation as to why someone who got beat to shit in their relationship craved shit like this.
I knew why I craved it. Craved the power, the control, but why the fuck did she? I wanted to know. I wanted to know why her mind made that specific shift. I wanted to know at what point in her life did she turn into this. Which punch from Steven? Which cruel word from her parents? Which fuck Steven forced upon her made her start craving the depraved? When did she realize how much she liked it? Had someone in her life given this to her before me?
Red filled my vision at the thought, and I ground my teeth, trying to shove it away, but my heart was already racing, my entire body hot with the rage.
I dug my fingers into her hip and slid two inside of her, her cunt tightening around me as a strangled moan escaped her lips. Nobody else could do what I did to her. Whatever she thought, whatever she believed, I would erase whoever it was from her mind so fully, she would never remember anyone else but me.
I released her hip and slapped her again, this time on her left side. “What have I told you about denying yourself, Olivia?”
I growled, feeling her cunt tighten with each slap as I began to finger-fuck her.
And immediately, she relaxed, opening up for me like the good little pup she was.
I leaned forward and slid my hand into her hair, threading my fingers through it, pulling her back as I rammed my fingers into her. God, fuck Beckett and his baseless theories. Fuck Azrael and his psychotics. Fuck Malachi and his silence. Fuck all of them. I knew what I was doing. I knew exactly what I was doing, my job. A debt to be paid, nothing more.
Olivia groaned, pushing back into me, the sound of her arousal coating my fingers filling the room. Fuck, she felt so damn good. “Fucking take it,”
I ordered her, picking up my pace, letting the anger they had caused, the anger of wondering if someone else was in this cunt other than Steven, consume me as I took complete control of her. “Take it like the perfect whore you are.”
Her cries of pleasure swam through me in waves of warmth, my heart pounding, my grip in her hair tightening.
“That’s right,”
I hummed, unable to help the way my hips pushed forward, my cock pressing into her ass. “You dirty little slut, you fucking needy whore.”
I was in control of her. Me. Not that piece of shit Steven. Not her parents, nobody in this world controlled her like I did.
A volatile shudder fell through me. My cock was throbbing, pulsing, aching to be inside of her, to fill her so goddamn full, she couldn’t help but cry for me. I wanted tears streaming down her face because of how desperate she was to have me. I wanted her sobbing, begging me for more. I wanted her to fuck my cock dry because she couldn’t handle not having me inside of her.
I released her hair and slapped her ass again, as hard as I could. I controlled her. I controlled everything about her. She was mine.
She cried out. “Oh, God,”
she moaned.
I did it again and again, desperately wanting to hear the end. I wanted to hear more. I wanted to hear all of it. I wanted to hear her cum for me and only me.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”
Her pussy clamped down around my fingers, her end ripping through her so forcefully, she convulsed against me, her hands nearly the same color as the ribbons strapping her to her bed.
I kept going, wanting just a few more seconds in her warm, wet cunt before I finally pulled out and sat back, my head spinning as she collapsed into the bed, her legs slick with her own arousal.
My own breathing was slightly hitched, my heart racing, thoughts flooding my head, thoughts I shouldn’t have been having.
I glanced down to my own pants, in so much pain, it actually caused me to want more, but this was a debt, nothing more. Just a means to an end.
I snarled under my breath, forcing every thought away, every feeling, every morsal of want inside of me, and I shoved myself to a stand. I had never felt so in control and out of control in all my life. I had never felt them so twisted together. I couldn’t tell one from the other.
I licked my fingers off, relishing her intoxicating taste before untying her wrists. “See you soon, sleep tight.”
And I left her on her bed without another word.
My pup was wild, and she craved to be tamed.