Page 43 of Cruel Debts (Killers of Port Wylde #4)

THIRTY-EIGHT

TRINITY

Learning to shoot was easy. Mostly since I had to pretend to be bad at it.

Keehn taught me when he came back from overseas, citing the need for his sister to protect herself in this big, bad world.

I just wanted to get nearer to Liam and get out of this place.

Now that Asher had indulged me with a trip up the mountain, I wanted more freedom.

And the lessons I learned with him there on that mountain felt right, good, in every manner in my life.

I was tired of playing it safe. I had to take things into my own hands.

Unfortunately, none of my posturing during our lesson helped.

In fact, when he brought me back to the dorm, he was even more distant, and it bothered me immensely that he wouldn't even so much as look my way as he deposited me on the couch and skipped out with a promise to bring home takeout for everyone.

I didn't want takeout. I wanted him. I was greedy, sure, but it couldn't be helped. I'd never once been able to choose between these three men, not while I was growing up, and not now. And since Asher and I didn't have an exclusivity arrangement, I saw no issue in approaching the other two.

Unfortunately, Hawke was busy, and Asher was on assignment, so that left me to my own devices, sitting in an empty room, an empty home, with nothing to keep me company but my own thoughts.

I tried watching TV. After flipping through a hundred different channels and finding nothing good, I gave up.

I took a shower—first a cold one, then a hot one.

It didn't help.

I rummaged for food and a drink, all to no avail. Nothing could sate the real hunger in my soul.

Nothing but them.

But I knew how to take the edge off. And since I was alone, now was the perfect time to take advantage of the situation and give myself a little release.

Which is how I ended up on my bed, wearing nothing but a too-short skirt and a tee shirt with more holes in it than a piece of Swiss cheese, with my hand on my thighs.

I teased myself first, the speaker on my stand playing soft melodies as I closed my eyes and imagined these hands belonged to someone else.

First, I imagined Asher. I knew how his hands felt on my skin. Had felt it already, several times. But that wasn't enough. No, I wanted more. Needed more.

So with a sigh of impatience, I dragged my free hand up to my breast, and rolled the nub of my nipple between two fingers, imagining that Liam stood beside me, and it was him I did this for.

I imagined him in Asher's place on the counter when he made me masturbate for him to watch.

I wondered what Liam would have done differently.

Would he have commanded me how he wanted me to act? Instead of asking me to show him what I liked, would he have shown me what I didn't know I wanted, didn't know I needed, until I was begging him to take over?

"Fuck," I whispered to the room, letting my hand on my thigh travel upward, teasing the edge of my slit. "Liam," I whispered, tossing my head back as I dragged that one finger through my wetness, wishing he were here to take advantage of the show.

'That's right, Trin, slide that finger inside yourself and ride it like you want to ride me,' he'd say, and then I'd do as he told me, because I wanted to make him happy.

I wanted him to be pleased with me, because the only time Liam really looked at me was when he wasn't angry, and that stare seared my very soul and twisted my insides in a way that was foreign to me.

So I did it. My finger slipped right through the moisture that these fantasies created, and delved into my cunt.

My head fell back again, the ends of my hair tickling my spine as I abandoned my breast in favor of supporting myself.

My legs fell further open, and in no time at all, I found myself adding a second finger, desperate to be filled in a way my own hand couldn't accomplish.

"Dammit," I groaned, fucking myself with increased speed, needing more but unable to get it.

What I wanted was on the other side of several doors, and very uninterested in what I had to offer.

What I wanted was something inside me that pulsed and throbbed and thrusted at the end of a set of hips so perfect they deserved the front page of women's magazines across the world.

What I needed was?—

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

Hawke stood in my doorway, which meant I had forgotten to lock it or close the damn thing, a bag of goodies dangling from his finger as he watched my greedy pussy devour my fingers.

I stilled my movements, but his eyes didn't look away.

And I didn't close my legs or hide because, dammit, I was close.

I was so close to having the release I needed, and he interrupted.

"Sorry, did I derail your fantasies? I can leave if you want." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, but the way he licked his lips as I held his stare told me he didn't plan on walking away this time.

"You really should learn to knock," I said slowly, debating the intelligence of what I was seriously thinking about doing. "It's impolite to interrupt a lady when she's?—"

"Fucking herself to thoughts of your friends? Yeah, I'm sure it's really rude, whatever." He set his bag on the ground, dusting off his pants with a frown. "You know what else is rude?"

"What?" I panted, my fingers aching from the way they were still buried inside of me.

"Watching without an invitation." His form sank to the floor as he got comfortable against the wall and grinned. "Don't mind me, though. I'll be quiet. You won't even know I'm here."

This was a challenge—a dare. He thought I wouldn't do it, that I would be so embarrassed that I'd hide from him, demand he leave, and ruin my own good time.

Well, I had news for him. I could be just as stubborn as he was. And I would be, starting right now.

"Suit yourself," I said with a shrug. And then, after I took a deep breath, I picked up where I left off, my fingers moving of their own accord.

Hawke's eyes were glued to me as I moved with abandon, pretending I was the only one in this room, that his presence was inconsequential.

That him watching me didn't secretly turn me the fuck on.

Because it did—it did so damn much it was insane.

But I couldn't let him know that. Giving him one more piece of ammunition was a bad idea, for sure.

He already knew how to rile me up and piss me off, and if he had more to use against me, life here would become unbearable.

I could only hope that this got awkward for him really fast. I wasn't sure I was ready to orgasm with him watching.

Asher was another story.

"Fuck," I swore, letting my head fall back and my eyes close as my fingers curled inside me.

"So good." Okay, so the words, the moans, and the noises I made might've been overkill, but I had to drive the nail in deeper.

I needed him to know what he was missing out on, because no way in hell was I going to give in to this asshole.

He wouldn't win now, and he'd never win if I could help it.

Even if he did cook for me.

"That's right," he growled from the floor. "Fuck yourself in front of me. Put on a good show, Tee-Bird."

Tee Bird. The nickname made me gasp in surprise, not because I hadn't heard it already from his lips, but because of the way it made me feel when I stroked myself while he uttered it.

It took me higher, to a place I couldn't reach on my own, and suddenly he was very much a part of this scene.

I was no longer fantasizing about Liam giving me instructions.

I was no longer imagining Asher demanding to learn how to please me.

Now, I was imagining Hawke, touching himself as he watched me get off, the two of us desperate but too stubborn to touch each other.

"Hawke," I whispered, my mind a blur. I wished I could take it back the second I said it, because I didn't want him to get the wrong idea.

But with my fingers fucking up into myself, his eyes on me, and my breath coming in quick, panted gasps, it still wasn't enough.

I needed more, and there was no way my fingers were going to reach where I wanted them.

"You're such a dirty whore," he muttered, and then I heard the sound of a zipper across the room, and I realized my fantasy was now playing out in real-time, and his hand was seconds away from being otherwise occupied with his dick.

I took a chance. "I bet you don't have the balls to come closer."

"I assure you I have the biggest balls in this house," he growled, and then his face was at the foot of the bed, and he was on his knees, staring up at me from between my legs as I shook from the intensity of his gaze.

"I—"

"Please," he said with a grin, gesturing at my dripping cunt and open legs. "Continue. I'm quite enjoying this show."

I wasn't sure when my sanity fled the building, but it moved so fast it left the door swinging in its wake. With renewed ferocity, I leaned even further back, whining as I struggled to get my fingers further inside myself, where I needed them to drive me over the edge.

Or I needed stimulation on the outside, and my other hand was clearly busy holding me up.

His voice was ragged as he observed me. "It's not enough, is it?" I watched that tongue dart out between his lips to wet them, his eyes glued to me. "Your hand isn't big enough."

How the hell did he manage to know all my inner secrets with just a glance? "I'm not telling you shit. My fingers have worked just fine until now."

"Shame," he said with a sigh, turning his hand over in front of his face. "I happen to have these really long fingers on my hands?—"

Something in me snapped. "Hawke, if that's an offer, the answer is yes, but only for the next five seconds."

"Five?"

"One," I said under my breath, watching him carefully. "Two. Three?—"

"Stop counting, Tee Bird. I thought you'd never ask."