Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 255(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 255(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
A twisted smile forms on Zeke’s lips as he prowls toward me. “I was thinking about how hungry I am.”
I point toward the back door. “The kitchen is that way.”
Zeke laughs. “Come on now, Princess. You and I both know that’s not the type of snack I’m craving.”
I’m about to reply with a smart comment when Cyrus jumps off the porch and jogs over to Zeke. They both glare at me with predatory eyes as clouds of smoke shroud their faces. Zeke and I have played this game many times. One of us runs, and the other chases—our adult version of a child’s game. But for the first time, Cyrus seems to want to play.
I arch my eyebrow and tilt my head at them, standing there in all their masculine glory. “I’m not sure I like my odds. Two against one isn’t very sporting.”
“Don’t worry, Az. We both know Cyrus can’t keep up. Think of him as a pity fuck.”
Cyrus growls as he grabs Zeke’s hips and tugs him until his back is flush with his chest. “That’s not what you were saying when my cock was deep in your tight little ass. If I remember correctly, you were crying about how it was so fucking big. My favorite was when you screamed, ‘Keep giving it to me, Daddy.’” Cyrus gyrates his hips, mimicking Zeke. “‘Pound my little fuck hole. Make me feel so good, Daddy. Oh, Cyrus, that’s it, I’m gonna come. Just like that.’”
Zeke wraps his arm around Cyrus’s neck and flips him over, dropping him on the ground and holding him down with a booted foot. “Listen up, Cyrus. I’ve never called your punk ass Daddy, and I never will.”
Cyrus laughs as his hand glides provocatively along Zeke’s black army boot. “These are kind of hot. Maybe the next time I fuck your ass, I’ll tie you up spread eagle, completely naked except for these. Legs in the air as you get fucked like the little bitch you are.”
“When I shove my cock up your ass dry, you’ll know who’s the little bitch,” Zeke spits.
I laugh at their insane banter. It’s their foreplay. My guys love each other furiously, but they also fuck each other like mortal enemies. “Well, looks like you boys are busy, so I’ll be going.”
Both men turn their gazes on me as Zeke offers a hand to Cyrus and helps him up.
Cyrus lunges for me but misses as I sidestep. “You better run, Hellcat, because I’m hard as fuck and itching to punish your holes.”
I smirk at my boys and dash into the forest. This isn’t the first time I’ve run and been fucked in the forest. These games have always helped release the tension coiling in my veins. Running for pleasure and fun, not out of fear or vengeance. A welcome change of pace.
Leaves rustle and skitter behind me from two sets of feet belonging to two very determined men.
“When we catch you, Hellcat, I’m going to pound into that sweet pussy until you can’t walk straight,” Cyrus hollers from behind me.
“Gotta catch me first, Cy.” I barrel through the forest, dodging low-hanging branches. I laugh as I glance behind me to see Cyrus huffing in pursuit.
“How the fuck are you so fast?” he wheezes, grabbing his chest.
“Perhaps you should sit this one out, Cy.” Zeke chuckles as he runs past him, chasing me through the trees. “Let the big boy handle it.”
Carefree laughter bubbles out of me. I’m always light around the guys. It’s as if they possess magic, allowing all the troubles plaguing me to melt away. Moments like this make me want to stay, but then I remember that not all women experience what I have.
My world crashes around me as I contemplate the girls in Afghanistan and Iran and the girls in America sold to men who abuse them. I can only be with my guys in fleeting moments because I have important work to do. Those girls need me more than my boys.
My brother calls this bullshit survivor’s guilt, and maybe he’s right. But everything is down to chance first and choice second. I could’ve been a child bride sold by a desperate single mother who had multiple mouths to feed. I could’ve been born to a misogynistic man who believed that my life as a woman was meaningless. But I was lucky to be born to my mother, a woman who escaped oppression and braved the desert with three children.
“You’ve been practicing for a marathon,” Zeke yells, humor lacing in his voice.
“Thought you said you were a big boy and could handle it,” I holler back as I dodge a branch and jump over a shrub.
I glance behind me when Zeke doesn’t retort with a smart comment. I don’t see the guys and foolishly assume I’ve outrun or concealed myself for the moment. I turn to gain a greater advantage when I collide with a hard frame.