Oh.
I like that.
I like that a lot.
“What do you think, wife?” I ask, pushing my hips against hers. My cock slides between her folds, brushing up against the swollen nub of her clit. “Do you like your husband's body on top of yours?”
“Shut up, Victor,” she groans, trying to push at me with her palms. She may as well be pushing against a skyscraper; I'm not going fucking anywhere. I'm not done teasing her either. My left hand scoops up one of those full breasts, fingers kneading the soft flesh. At the same time, I tease Bernie's chest and neck with my tongue, undulating my hips in time to the thrusting of hers.
But I haven't given her my cock, not yet.
“Does this complete the cycle?” I whisper, nuzzling against her, feeling both affection and a desperate, frenzied need to possess. “To have the man you hate more than anyone in the world ride you into the mattress?” She shoves at me again, fingers clawing. I love the way her sharp nails rake down my back, and I thrust harder to reward her.
“Just fuck me, Vic,” she grinds out, but I shake my head. I want to hear her say it.
“Just fuck me, husband,” I correct, and she groans, throwing her head back and into the pillow. She bites down on it for a moment before exhaling sharply and opening her eyes. Two pools of emerald stare up at me, a fiery spirit trapped behind them, pounding its fists and begging for release. The demon inside my own body stirs and I adjust my hips, putting the tip of my cock inside of my wife. “Husband. Or no deal.”
“Husband,” she grinds out, and I laugh before I thrust in, nice and hard and fast. Hot heat envelops my cock as I slam balls-deep into my wife, loving the way her face contorts with pleasure, the way her breasts sway with the motion of my thrusts. We grind our bodies together, stirring up an inferno of friction.
Sweat beads on her forehead, on my chest, we drip and melt and fall into each other until there are no barriers between us. My balls get tight as I bite Bernadette's lower lip and pump into her, an orgasm ripping its way through me. I shoot my hot cum into her as she squeezes around me, in the throes of another orgasm.
We are in perfect unison, just the way I fucking like it.
“Stupid ass,” Bernie whispers as I lick the side of her neck. Her body breaks out in goose bumps as I roll off with another laugh, tucking her up against me. If she thinks we're done, she has another thing coming. But I might let her rest for a bit.
Might, being the key word.
“I've won, Bernadette,” I tell her, ignoring her snort of disbelief. “Just accept that you're mine, I'm the boss, and I hold the reigns of Havoc.”
“Just accept that I'm your wife, and I hold your reigns. Therefore, I also hold the reigns of Havoc. Get fucked, Victor Channing.”
“Oh, we'll see about that,” I growl back at her, but she isn't arguing. Instead, she's as soft as a kitty cat next to me. This moment, this view of her, it's for me and me alone.
I take my time enjoying it before I get out of bed and leave.
“Having fun up there?” Hael asks when I pad down the stairs in bare feet, searching for a snack to bolster my stamina. If Bernadette thinks we’re actually done for the night, she has a few surprises waiting for her. We’re not quitting until the sun comes up. Maybe not even then. At best, she can get in a few short naps between sessions.
I’m going to fuck her until there’s not a male in Havoc that doesn’t know she’s mine.
I stare at my boys, slouched and slumped across the Vincents’ living room. They look ridiculous in here, all tatted up and fucked up and bored as hell. Assholes. We have a whole mansion to ourselves, complete with a goddamn swimming pool, and they’re sitting in here like they don’t have anything better to do?
“If by fun, you mean screwing the shit out of my wife, then yeah, I’m having bucketloads of fun.” I grab my balls as Hael snorts with laugher, following me into the kitchen and tossing some weird-ass glass bauble around like a toy. He drops it and it shatters, pieces of a dried starfish mixing with the glass. Some people need serious help with their decorating. It looks like a fucking fish morgue in here with all the dead, dried sea life scattered everywhere. I open the fridge and lean in to browse its contents.
“You try any of those toys I got you?” he asks, and I turn the most poisonous glare in my repertoire on him. Hael whistles and holds both palms up and out toward me in a placating gesture. “Jesus, you’re such a prickly fuck. What’s wrong with sex toys?”
“Well, you redheaded fucker,” I start, grabbing the sandwich shit from earlier and deciding I’ll make one for myself this time. My balls are empty, and I need to make some more sweet honey for my girl. “First thing that’s wrong is that you bought them.” I gesture at him with a knife, but he doesn’t seem to get the threat apparent in it.
“It’s my wedding gift to you guys,” Hael says, like I’m a crazy person. He turns back to Callum, Aaron, and Oscar, gesturing at them like he expects them to agree. “Bernadette deserves more than a quick dicking every now and again, am I right? Use a vibrator on her. Try a butt plug. Have some goddamn fun, Vic.”
“Don’t involve me in this conversation,” Oscar says, watching something on his iPad. Probably a true crime show of some sort. He’s goddamn obsessed with them. He’s only got one earbud in though, so I know he can hear us. “What you do with your wife is none of my concern.”
Fuck, he’s a silver-tongued liar. I scowl at Oscar as I slap some mayo on a piece of bread. When I’m done, I take a quick break to light a joint. It’s from our own special strain of weed: Havoc at Prescott High. It’s a sativa, nice and bright, prone to lending the smoker some much-needed creative highs.
“None of his concern, huh, Period Dick?” Hael asks, snorting with laughter. Oscar lifts silver eyes to our friend’s face, and I see murder written into the sharp lines of his frown.
“Period Dick?” Aaron echoes, because he’s the last one to know. To hear about Bernie and Oscar fucking in a pool of blood. Just thinking about it pisses me off so bad that I have to clench my teeth until they hurt. I’m trying to deal with this shit the best I can; makes sense that the easiest way for the boys and Bernie to bond would be sex. Sex is fun, and it breaks down barriers, but Jesus. She’s my goddamn wife now, and I don’t know how to share.
There’s a reason we made a pact in junior high that we weren’t going to date her. Heh. In elementary school, we made a deal to protect her. Just Havoc and Bernadette, a relationship as old as time.
“Bernie and Oscar had sex on your couch,” Callum says as I take a long drag on the joint. The weed hits my brain like a freight train, calming me down in an instant. I can do this; I can handle this. “That’s where the new bloodstain came from. Not that it mattered, since we were having trouble getting all of your blood out of the fabric anyway.” Cal shoves a handful of chips into his mouth, chewing on them thoughtfully as he leans his blond head back against the window behind him. “Might want to consider digging into the Havoc account for a new sofa.”
“You and Bernadette …” Aaron starts, looking over at Oscar like he’s never seen him before. Trust me: I felt the same way when I saw what was going on between them in the kitchen. But I need, need, need them to get along. Our group will break apart if we don’t figure out a careful dance around our emotions. And that’s not acceptable. We are a family. The world is a monster. This is our armor against its razor-sharp teeth.