“You don’t see yourself the way we see you,” he breathes, breath fanning against my parted lips.
“And how do you see me?” I’m barely breathing, my entire focus fixated on both the beautiful man in front of me and the second beautiful man beside me. My shoulders physically deflate as if a heavy rain washed away all of the tension.
“As someone to be loved and cherished,” he whispers before crashing his lips to mine. I moan low in my throat as his addictive taste bombards my senses, momentarily making me lose my mind. But I don’t want his sweet kisses. Not now. I want to punish him for making me leave Jack and Hux behind. For allowing me to live when Barret didn’t. For breaking my heart at the Halloween party those many weeks ago, when he disappeared with Cheryl instead of protecting me.
I bite down on his lip hard enough to draw blood before immediately licking it away, his flavor exploding on my tongue. Releasing him, I turn my head to the side to kiss Mason. As always, he’s an enthusiastic kisser, putting all of his passion and emotions into the heated kiss. Our tongues tangle together as he tugs my hair to the point of pain. Pulling away from him, I turn back towards Vin and resume where we left off. I know he can taste Mason on my lips, but that only heightens my arousal. My core is throbbing, desperate for what only these two men can give me.
I want to be punished.
I want to feel pain.
“Have you two ever…?” I gesture between the two of them, vivid images assaulting me. Mason pulling Vin into a fervent kiss, their lips clashing just as their personalities do. Their hands roaming each other’s bodies. Their cocks rubbing against each other with each clash of their lips.
“Head out of gutter, Pinkie!” Mason says, gently whacking me on the back of the head. “Not happening.”
“Not even a teeny tiny little kiss?” I ask, pushing out my bottom lip in a pout. Vin and Mason exchange a glance over my shoulder, and I swear I stop breathing. I can feel my arousal dampen my panties as a sultry grin pulls up Mason’s lush lips.
“One kiss, you say…” he whispers, crawling towards Vin. He runs his hands up his muscular thighs, his chest, and then his broad shoulders. Vin lowers his hands to Mason’s back…and then lowers them some more until they’re inches above his rock-hard ass.
They lean towards each other, eyes closed, and I rub my thighs together to alleviate the ache. I’m panting as if I’ve just run a million miles.
When their lips are a hair’s breadth apart, they turn towards me at the same time and begin to pepper kisses on either side of my neck, chuckling darkly.
“Not happening, Pinkie,” Mason says as he suckles my skin. Vin twists my face to recapture my lips, his tongue prodding the seam before I finally relent and open my mouth to him.
“Tease,” I breathe against Vin’s lips.
In answer, he merely resumes his brutal kisses while his hand cups and squeezes my breast.
“But just because we won’t play with each other…” Mason murmurs.
“Doesn’t mean we won’t both play with you,” finishes Vin. And sweet merciful Zeus, I swear I cream my panties right then and there.
“What type of play are we talking about?” I pant as Mason’s hand feathers underneath my shirt, across my stomach, and up to my chest. He begins to knead my tit through the lacy material of my bra, lips curved into a bewitching, sensuous smirk. “Jump rope play? Hopscotch? Uno?”
“What the fuck, Violet?” Vin murmurs as he plants kisses up and down my neck. When he reaches my ear, he grabs the lobe between his teeth and bites down gently. “You’re so strange.”
“I’m only strange because you’re too normal,” I counter immediately. Before I can claim Vin’s lips once more, a whine reverberates through the room. All three of us freeze, only our heads moving to stare at the closed door.
“Is it our baby?” Mason teases, finger idly drawing circles on my chest.
“Shut up.” I elbow him as the whine sounds again, followed immediately by incessant scratching. I make a move to get up, but Vin places a hand on my chest to push me back down and strides across the room, the evidence of his arousal poking through his gym shorts. He grabs his blade that he must’ve put on my dresser and wrenches open the door.
“Biscuit?” Mason exclaims, sitting upright and staring at the hideous mutt outside my dorm room door. The creature tilts his furry black head to the side, rivulets of color sludging down his back. He looks as if he has been through the meat-grinder, his ears torn and riddled with holes. His amber eyes train on me as another desperate whine escapes his body.
“You named the mutt from hell Biscuit?” I query as the creature, ignoring Vin entirely, gallops into the room, jumps onto my bed, and curls into a ball near my feet. His tongue lolls out of his mouth, and I can’t help but notice it’s a hideous shade of gray.
“He seems to like you,” Mason points out as Biscuit chirps happily.
Oh my freaking god. He is adorable.
“Can I keep him? Please? Please? Please?” I scratch him behind his tattered ears, and he leans into my touch, body vibrating with his contented purr.
“Violet…” For the millionth time that day, Vin pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can’t just keep a murderous Frankenstein-created beast as your pet.”
“But he’s sooo cute.” I press a kiss to his furry nose. To the beast, I ask, “Where are your brothers? Did they come too?”
“She said she wanted a baby,” Mason points out with a wicked grin. He leans around me to pet Biscuit’s rough hide.
“Why do I even bother with these children?” Vin murmurs, more to himself than to us. I’ll have him know that I’m extremely mature and intelligent for my age, thank you very much. And because I’m so mature, I’m going to refrain from sticking my tongue out at him and then slicing open his throat to drink his blood dry.
Mature Violet for the win.
Abruptly, Biscuit begins to cough, eyes widening slightly in his distorted face. Mason grimaces as a slimy beetle flies from the hound’s mouth and bounces off the wall.
“Ewww,” he laments, nose scrunching in disgust.
“Did you eat a beetle, handsome man?” I coo to the dog. “Silly puppy.”
“It’s a monstrous, fifty-pound beast of mass destruction,” Vin deadpans. “Not a silly puppy.”
Before I can retort, a green mist slithers across the floor of my room like a palpable entity. Immediately, my hackles raise as Mason grabs my waist, pulling me against him.
Vin spins towards the fog with his dagger brandished, eyes spewing vitriol and something akin to fear. “Who’s there?” he demands.
Because when the mist comes a’knockin, you go a’runnin.
Yes, that’s actually a nursery rhyme in the monster world.
The green mist begins to swirl rapidly like a tornado, and the acid in my stomach sluices around. Slowly, it solidifies into the silhouette of a large, muscular man with broad shoulders and dark skin.
Barret’s green hair is wildly mussed as he flashes me a sheepish grin.
“I would highly recommend not being eaten by a dog.” He pauses, an unsure expression crossing his handsome face. His painfully beautiful, handsome face. His painfully beautiful and dead handsome face. “Why are you all looking like you’ve seen a ghost? Do I have blood on my cheek?”