“Pretty little bird,” Diesel murmurs in my ear. “You should feel how wet she is,” he tells Garrett.
I narrow my eyes and reach back to slap him, but he grabs my hand and drags it up my body to cup my own breast. “She’s fucking soaked, and every time you hit a particularly painful patch—oh yeah, like that—she squeezes my cock.”
Garrett grunts, his hand clenching on my leg before he sucks in a deep breath. “Shut the fuck up, or I’ll draw a dick.”
Diesel laughs, so do I. “I don’t think he would, Little Bird. He would have to look at it then when he fucked you.”
I try to hold in my giggle and then my moan as he presses in deeper. Garrett drags over a sore patch, and then again, and I realise he’s doing it on purpose, the asshole. I glare down at him and his eyes rise for a moment, those lips curled into a smirk. “Bloody wanker,” I hiss.
“Don’t worry, D, I’m nearly done, then I’ll fuck her mouth so she can’t insult us anymore,” Garrett comments, as he lowers his head again.
“Nah, she does that when she’s turned on.” Diesel chuckles.
“Really?” Garrett mumbles. “That true, baby? ’Cause you insult me a lot.”
“Fuck off, both of—agh.” Diesel bites down on my shoulder, making me clench on his cock. I try not to move and close my eyes to stop myself from rocking back into him, needing more friction, needing to come. He’s right—this is torture.
The desire is muddling my brain, my whole body alight with it, and if Garrett doesn’t finish soon, I’m going to say to hell with the tattoo and drag him up my body. I keep still like that for another fifteen minutes, the longest fifteen minutes of my life. Then, a kiss comes on my thigh, farther down. “All done, baby.”
I feel him cleaning it as I open my eyes, and I go to lift my head to look, but he rips off his gloves and throws his needle away as his dark gaze locks on my mouth. “Look later. You can thank me now. Mouth open, you fucking tease.”
“I want to see—” I start, but then he’s there. He unbuckles his jeans swiftly and pulls his big cock free. It’s hard and dripping at the tip, and he presses it to my mouth, tapping my lips with it.
“And I want you to shut the fuck up and suck my dick so D can finally fuck you. I spent two hours with my head nearly in your pussy, staring at your fucking wet cunt and imagining my dick in there. Then another thirty minutes of seeing D’s cock actually inside you and you moaning above me. So. Open. Up. Now,” he growls, his fingers threading in my hair and yanking my head forward roughly.
Eyes narrowing, I do as I’m told. He shoves his cock into my mouth, almost making me choke. He grabs my chin and forces my lips closed around him while Diesel grips my thigh and starts to move in slow, measured thrusts, which have me reaching out and clutching Garrett’s thigh. He groans, and I roll my eyes up to meet his dark, desire-filled orbs as I suck him down.
Moaning around his cock, I dig my nails into his thigh, and he doesn’t freak out. Maybe because I’m restrained by Diesel, who’s licking and biting my neck, his hand dragging down my stomach to flick and tug at my clit piercing. The pain from that and my tattoo on my thigh flows through me, meeting that fire of pleasure low in my stomach.
This has been brewing for the last few hours, and now I’m wild with it, just a ball of desire. Needing more, needing everything. Needing the pleasure they can give me. Keeping my eyes open and locked on him, even though they want to close, I suck him down deeper. I feel spit dripping down my chin, but I don’t care. I push my ass back against Diesel, moaning around Garrett’s cock as he slams in and out of me.
Garrett groans, his head dropping back as he starts to thrust into my mouth in quick, hard jabs as he chases his orgasm. Sucking him down, I bob my head, faster and faster, in time with Diesels thrusts, all of us locked in this loop of pleasure. Diesel groans dirty words in my ear, spurring me on, his fingers teasing and flicking my clit until I scream around Garrett’s cock, my orgasm rushing through me. I try to pull back, but his hand in my hair keeps me there, and he takes over.
Using my mouth, abusing it with hard thrusts which have him down my throat, he yells as his hips stutter before his seed fills my mouth. I have no choice but to swallow it, and only then do his fingers untangle from my hair.
Panting hard, my lips and cheeks hurting, I open my eyes to find him smirking down at me before he stumbles back into his chair. “My turn,” Diesel rumbles in my ear.
I yelp as I’m flipped and turned until I’m perched on his lap. Diesel is on his back beneath me with my ass towards his face as he lifts and drops me on his cock. I reach out desperately and grip either side of the chair as I roll my hips, that same pleasure building back up again.
Garrett watches me, watches me fuck and ride his brother. Grabbing my nipple, I twist and pluck it as I bounce on his dick, his thrusts mean and hard, unrelenting. “Fuck.” He groans. “Little Bird, I’m so close, make yourself come, now,” he demands.
Whimpering, I reach down and rub my oversensitive clit as he thrusts up so hard, I almost fall forward, but it does the trick. It rushes through me, pulled from every nerve until I can’t think or breathe. Pleasure rolls through me again and again as I clamp down on his cock.
He groans loudly and stills, keeping me locked on his cock as he comes. I tremble and shake, unable to help it, my pussy still pulsing, my stomach clenching and heart slamming in my ribcage. Holy hell.
He finally releases my hips and lifts me from his cock before pulling me back to his chest. I lie there, breathing heavily, and look over at Garrett to see him watching me with soft, dark eyes. He nods, then disappears for a moment. He returns with a bottle of water, which I gratefully sip as he cleans me up, softly and without a word, before handing me a large mirror. “Take a look, baby.”
I lift my heavy head as he holds the mirror, and I tilt down until I can see the tattoo. When I do, I gasp. It’s fucking beautiful, sore and bleeding a little bit, but absolutely amazing. It’s delicate, unlike their thick, heavy tattoos. Roses climb down my thigh with sharp thorns, dripping mandalas and beads, and curving around the stem of a rose is a tiny viper, its eyes peeking from the leaves. It’s stunning and so lifelike, its shading making it look like it’s alive.
“I love it,” I whisper, and meet his eyes. “You’re so talented. Thank you, Garrett.”
He shrugs and wipes it for me before leaning down and kissing my lips. “You’re welcome, baby,” he murmurs softly, and tries to pull away, but I grab the back of his head and keep him there, showing him with my kiss how much it means. When I pull away, he’s grinning.
“Ever thought about being a tattoo artist?” I ask curiously.
“Nah, my dad was, though, before he got himself killed by one of the families that used to run this town before us. I guess I just like how it reminds me of him, fighting was always my thing,” he explains, as he sits down again.
“You enjoy it?” I query, snuggling into Diesel’s chest.
“I used to.” He sighs. “A lot. Now? Now, it’s a release for me, of emotions, and one of the only places where I don’t have to worry about holding back. I can just hurt people, and that’s okay.”
Diesel snorts. “He used to be a professional boxer, and he was fucking good too, had some titles behind him.”
“Really?” I ask, eyes wide.
Garrett nods. “Was always too…restricting for me. I prefer fighting without rules. I like to hurt people, baby, always have, always will.”
I grin. “So? You don’t think I like it when I use my bat on people? Or when I kicked you in the balls?”
He laughs and so does Diesel. “I’m never going to live that down.”
“Nope, sorry, big guy.” I sigh and rest my head on Diesel. “Did they find who betrayed you?”
“Not yet, but we will, Little Bird, and when we do…” He groans. “The things I will do to them and then you.”
I shiver from the promise in his tone, and he laughs, slapping my thigh. “So what do you want to do now, Little Bird?”
I debate my options. “I want to see you work, not torturing. I saw Kenzo in his role…but what do you guys do every day?”
Garrett snorts. “It changes. We don’t tend to be in the boardrooms, that’s Kenzo and Ryder. We run the bars and casinos, and gather information on the streets and from vendors.”
“We could take her to The Lounge,” Diesel suggests.
Garrett raises an eyebrow. “The strip joint? Why?”
I perk up at that. “’Cause she wants to see us doing business, and we need to check in anyway, make sure that old Cherry bitch hasn’t been talking.”
Garrett looks at me, and I grin. “Naked women in glitter? I’m there.”
He blinks in astonishment, making me laugh. “Babe, you forget I run a dive bar, and just because I don’t like the salad doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the aesthetic.”
“Salad,” Diesel wheezes, and then we all burst into laughter. When we get a hold of ourselves, he slaps me again. “Go get dressed. Wear something so I can see your new ink, Little Bird, and we’ll take you.”
* * *
After a whore’s wash—notwanting to expose my tattoo to the shower—and straightening my hair, I put on makeup and my viper jewellery before looking over my new clothes. Deciding on the black number Ryder bought me, I slip into it and some heels, looking in the mirror to make sure it shows off my ink, which it does. I freeze then, staring at myself.
I don’t look like me, but at the same time, I do. This Roxy is better dressed, surrounded by colours, but it’s the smile on my face that shocks me. When was the last time I just smiled? I actually can’t remember…am I happy here?
What does that mean?
I don’t want to leave, I know that, but I’m still…mad. I want my freedom, I want my own life and the right to choose, but I’m still…fucking happy. Because of them. My door opens just then, and Diesel comes in. He wraps himself around me from behind, his head resting on my shoulder, his blond hair loose and those baby blues alight with happiness.
He’s in a leather jacket, tight, black ripped jeans, and no shirt. His golden chest glistens, his new tattoo proudly displayed, and his abs catch my eye for a moment. We look good together, light and dark, all golden skin and golden hair for him, all pale skin and silver hair for me.
“So perfect, Little Bird,” he murmurs, kissing my neck as he meets my eyes in the mirror. “You’re perfect. Always. Come on, you want to see what the Vipers get up to? You want to see who we are when we’re out there, and we want to show you off. To let them know you’re our girl.”
“Vipers’ girl?” I smirk, and he grins against my skin.
“Forever,” he murmurs.
“You ready?” Garrett yells from down the corridor.
Diesel takes my hand and leads me from the room before rushing back in, then he stops me in the corridor and gets to his knees. Looking up at me, he grabs the edge of my dress and pulls it up slowly, revealing my thighs. Pulling something black from his pocket, he wraps it around my not freshly inked thigh and slips my blade into it, the one he gave me. “There.” He kisses my thigh and pulls down my dress before taking my hand again.
We meet Garrett in the hallway. He’s busy looking at his phone, but I can’t help but gasp at the sight of him. These men are too dangerously good-looking. His hair is slicked back, and he’s scowling, which only adds to the appeal. His thick, tall frame is encased in all black, his tattoos peeking out, his hands big and scarred.
When he realises I’m there, he pockets the phone and goes to smile before his eyes drop to the dress, and he groans instead. “I’m going to have to punch some people.”
“Won’t it be great?” Diesel laughs, twirling me across the floor until I stumble into Garrett’s chest, who catches me and holds me close. His big hands go to my ass and yank me closer as he massages my cheeks, his head tilting down to murmur against my lips.
“I will kill anyone who looks at you wrong. Stay by our sides, but show no fear, baby. This might be the Vipers’ den, but out there? It’s a fucking hornet’s nest.” He kisses me before ripping open the door and heading out first. Diesel takes my hand, but his other is on a knife at his side.
“Garrett has to keep his hands free for his guns,” he explains, and I nod.
Heading down to the garage, we take one of the bigger, still sporty, Audis. Garrett doesn’t let Diesel drive, and when I question it, he shakes his head. “Trust me.”
Diesel snorts but gets into the back while I climb into the passenger seat. “I wouldn’t have killed us with my little bird here.”
“Sure,” Garrett scoffs as he fires up the car and pulls up the barriers, which begin to rise. “Buckle up, baby.”
I do as I’m told, and as we race into the city, I look at the buildings and people going past. We’re in the rich part of town with designers, boutiques, sports cars everywhere, and women and men in no rush to get anywhere. Everything screams money. I feel less at home here than out on the street, so when we pass into the darker side of town, I actually relax. I know how to live here, to survive, but on the glittering streets lined with blood and money? Not so much.
We don’t head near my bar, but we’re on the other side, just past all the big banks and money places, which makes sense. We pull up right outside, and Garrett gets out first and rounds the car, keeping me from getting out as he looks around. Only when he’s happy does he open the door for me. Diesel takes my hand again and leads me to the club with Garrett behind us, watching our backs.
From the outside, it looks like what you would expect for a strip club—big, tacky neon sign, and dark, blacked out windows. I love it. Diesel doesn’t pay or even glance at the man at the door, just opens it and pulls me in.
Instantly, it’s dark, and the sensual music hits me, as does the scent of cigars, booze, and sweat. The wood floor in the hallway leads down to two, big double doors, which we open before slipping into the main area of the club.
The bar is behind us to the right, with the stage area taking up most of the room. There are floating platforms and cages in the air, and a VIP area upstairs. There are curtained off booths around each wall, which I have to squint to see. Everything is dark and moody with coloured lights. Poles are everywhere and small tables surround the stages.
It’s definitely a dive, so I feel right at home. There are neon signs across the walls—cherries, lips, you name it, they have it. The floor is a sticky wood, and my heels cling to as we walk. It’s busy, even at this time of day, with men in suits and leathers sitting around, and a few women too. Cocktail waitresses in slinky outfits wander through the crowd with trays, and there are two women behind the bar as well. A dancer is currently on stage in a jewelled bikini as she swings around the pole and writhes to the music. I tilt my head. “She’s good.” I nod, and Diesel smirks.
“You’re a strange one, Little Bird, I love it,” he murmurs, leaning down so I can hear him over the music.
“Hey, I took pole dancing, that shit is hard. These women are fucking athletes, and trying to get that glitter out? Not easy,” I scoff.
Just then, a woman approaches, and she smiles nervously at us, her eyes flickering between the guys. “Cherry is in back, honeys, want me to grab her? She’s in a meeting.”
“No, it’s fine, we can wait,” Garrett tells her, and then takes a table near one of the walls so he can see everyone. His hand is on his lap where his gun is resting, and his eyes are sharp, scanning everything. Diesel, on the other hand, grabs a chair and yanks me into his lap as we watch the woman on stage.
“Want a dance while you’re waiting?” the nervous waitress asks, clearly knowing who they are.
“No,” Garrett snarls.
“Sorry, I brought my own.” Diesel laughs.