Page 47

FORTY-SEVEN

roses red - Jeris Johnson

I’m definitely fucking dreaming. I try to wake up. I try blinking really hard, then I try to pinch myself, but my hands are tied. And it fucking hurts to move.

It hurts , which means I definitely didn’t fall asleep in my cruiser and dream up some psycho criminals who want to tie me up and make out in front of me.

Fuck.

Both men are sipping coffee on my couch in silence, and I’m tied to my chair facing them.

“You can’t s-s-stay here,” I say.

“Hmmm, kinda seems like we can.”

“Wait, stay here?” Ronan glances at Logan, looking like this is the first he’s heard of it.

I watch them watch each other. Hang on. Are they not on the same page?

“Our other location is compromised. This is the best option.”

Ronan glances at me, and his eyebrows are raised. “The…best option? Is staying in the house of the guy who’d get hard slitting our throats?”

“You’d also get hard slitting my throat,” Logan says.

“Yes, I would. But that’s not the point!” Ronan’s voice raises.

“I brought Buffalo.” Logan motions at a stuffed highland cow he’s placed on the armrest of the couch.

“Cool, so he can watch us both die?”

“We’re not dying.” Logan’s voice catches a dark edge.

“Ellington, tell this man he’s crazy.” Ronan stands and goes to the tank. Toward my boy.

“L-l-leave him alone!” Adrenaline rushes through me, and suddenly, I’m fighting my bonds as hard as I can.

Ronan looks back at me in surprise, watching my struggles. For a minute, the manic look drops out of his eyes, and his voice drops, “I wouldn’t hurt him. I’m not an animal.”

“Don’t touch him.” The rage is red hot in my voice.

“Okay.” Ronan raises his hands. “You got it, boss.”

It takes me a minute to come down from my sudden, murderous rage. Ronan watches me closely. His gaze is perceptive, much like Logan’s. Although Ronan covers his up with a little more crazy, I think he’s just as aware.

Finally, Ronan asks, “You got any pain pills? No, wait, scratch that, you got any alcohol?”

“No,” Logan says from the couch.

Ronan purses his lips, ignoring Logan and looking at me. “You’re a whiskey drinker, aren’t you?”

The changes in subject are giving me whiplash. I do drink whiskey. Ronan must see the answer on my face because he crows, “I knew it! All the gays drink it.” Then, he disappears into the kitchen.

His words hit me like a sledgehammer. Did he just call me…gay? Panic hits me a second later.

“Hey, I’m not g-g-g-gay motherfucker!” I start struggling again. I need to get out. Need to get away. The bonds are cutting into my skin, but maybe if I push the chair back, it’ll break, and I’ll be able to get out.

“Ah ha! The gay spirits!” There’s a clink, and I know he’s going through my liquor cabinet.

“Ronan, no.” Logan gets up and moves into the kitchen.

“Not gay!” I renew my struggles, jerking so hard I knock my chair backwards. I crash to the ground, smashing my head again, and my vision blacks out for a second.

When the world stops spinning, both men are standing over me. Ronan is sipping his coffee, and Logan is glaring at him.

“Maybe he needs a shot too. You want a shot, model boy?” Ronan looks concerned.

“No,” Logan says.

Model boy? I struggle to respond.

“Jesus man, you’re a broken record.” Ronan takes a loud, obnoxious sip. “Live a little. Life’s too short.”

“My name’s-s-s,” I moan, “Dakota.”

Both look down at me as if they forgot I was there.

The rest of the afternoon goes much the same—with Logan and Ronan’s constant bickering in the background while I try to figure out any possible way I could get out of this. I don’t try to bargain with them. First, I try not to talk unless there’s a distinct purpose. And second, I don’t know them well enough to know if it’ll help or hurt my chances of escape. Honestly, the more they focus on each other and forget I’m here, the better. Also, Ronan holds an active conversation with the cow that seems to be named Buffalo, and I’ve never been more sure these are not people I want to be reasoning with.

But what will I do once I get away? I could just lie to the chief and say I was never at the theater. But what if there are cameras? Fuck, at this point, it’s worth it to be charged for complicity. Anything to get away from where I am now, tied in my own living room with two men who are absolutely, undeniably crazy. And also openly gay. Which makes a weird sensation rush through me. It’s wrong. They shouldn’t be flirting with each other. And yet, I can’t take my eyes off them.

They let me up to piss multiple times—damn my nervous pissing—but then put me right back in the chair. Which fucking hurts my ass and my wrists. I would have tried to escape then, but both men immediately focused and looked lethal when I was cut loose. They also let me up to feed Ellington, and Ronan is extremely interested, asking me about the food he eats and where I get it. Ronan wants to do everything, but I don’t let him. Then, back in the chair I go.

My plan is to wait until they’re asleep, then bust the chair and get out. Then I’ll go to the station and tell them everything.

It takes fucking forever for the two men to go to sleep. I’m hoping they’ll just sleep on the couch, but of course not. Of course not.

“What kinda bed you got, model boy?” Ronan slurs a little. I’m pretty sure he’s been mixing alcohol with his coffee all day while Logan isn’t looking.

Logan’s voice lowers, “Ronan. Are you drunk?”

“Huh?” Ronan looks around like he dropped something. “Oh, wait. Can’t find the contract that says I have to listen to you.”

There’s a tense silence where I’m not sure if they’re going to start fighting or kissing. Kissing ? No. Fuck, my brain is dirty. They wouldn’t…

“I think you want to be punished.” Logan’s voice is slow and low, making me shiver at the threat.

Ronan doesn’t seem to notice, getting off the couch and heading towards the bedroom. “Queen size? King size?”

Logan gets up too, and elation fills me. They’re going to leave me alone.

Then, Logan’s heavy hand slams down on the back of my chair and starts dragging me along the wood floors.

“Hey.” I struggle, feeling like I’ll tip out at any second, but he doesn’t stop. The dragging is loud and screeching, jarring me along with every step.

“Queen!” I hear Ronan’s voice, and then I’m yanked down the hall and shoved into my bedroom, where I see Ronan flopping on the bed. Logan closes the door behind us, and then I feel him checking my zip ties. “Good?” he says.

It takes me a second to realize he’s talking to me. I flex my hands. They’re tight, but they aren’t cutting off circulation.

“Good?” Logan asks again, rounding the chair to level his blue eyes on me. His gaze is magnetic, stealing my breath away.

“Yeah,” I mutter.

“Good.” He stands up, and the magnetic presence is eased. It’s like I can breathe again. What the hell is wrong with me? And what the hell is wrong with him? This isn’t what criminals do. They don’t give a shit about the people they offend against. And I’ve seen over a decade of criminal behavior.

Then, my thoughts are cut off because Logan strips his shirt off, revealing a muscled and heavily tattooed back. And suddenly, I can’t breathe again. Logan is covered in dark, stunning tattoos. He’s also huge, with bulk in places I wished I had bulk.

Logan jumps into bed on top of Ronan, who shrieks and tries to roll away. But Logan pins Ronan under his huge body, wrestling his wrists into his hands.

I watch, stunned. What the fuck is happening right now?

“Logan!” Ronan roars, “Get the fuck off me!” But his words are slurred.

My whole body tenses. Logan lowers to Ronan’s neck, and I can’t see what he’s doing, but I see Ronan buck. “Ow, fucker!”

“Give me that pretty neck.”

Ronan thrashes, but Logan holds him down easily. I can’t tear my horrified gaze away. I’m watching a crime. Logan is assaulting Ronan right in front of me.

“S-s-s-top!” I demand.

Logan’s hand traces down Ronan’s body, and I suck in a breath as it goes between Ronan’s legs. Ronan stiffens, then melts into the bed, letting out a moan.

What the fuck? What the fuck ? Does Ronan like this? I thrash, trying to get away. I need to get away.

“Dakota,” Ronan mutters.

Freezing horror runs icy hot through my veins.

“He’s fine,” Logan’s voice is muffled in Ronan’s body.

“He’s watching.”

“And?”

The whole room is full of charged silence. I’m not sure what to say or do. I just want to get away, but I also can’t tear my eyes away from the display of power and lust on the bed in front of me.

“I want him to watch,” Logan says, continuing to kiss Ronan. “I want you to get off in front of him.”

Ronan lets out a muffled moan, and I’m not sure if it’s because Logan gives him a firm tug or because of his words.

My whole body feels hot and sweaty. There’s such raw energy coming from both bodies across the room that it’s stifling.

Then, Logan reaches his hand inside Ronan’s pants, and Ronan really moans, the sound going straight through me. It’s a sound full of pleasure and need, and it’s so foreign coming from a man. I curl my toes to focus on anything but that sound.

Then, Logan pulls Ronan’s pants down with one hand, muscles flexing as he rips them down.

I catch a flash of skin and yank my gaze away. Ronan’s dick is there. It’s right there in full sight, large and veiny and pink. And Logan is fucking touching it.

I hear Logan spit, then the wet sounds of a hand moving up and down. I stare at my dresser.

Dirty. Wrong. Backwards .

I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t get rid of the sounds. The wet smacking sounds and the low grunts.

“That’s a good boy. Be my good boy and give me that dick.”

Fuck. My whole body is tense, and I feel sweaty all over. My heart is racing, and my breaths are shallow. I wish they would go away. I wish the slap, slap, slap would fucking stop.

But some part of me doesn’t wish it would stop. Some part of me fucking loves it. The same part that takes a peek, seeing Logan’s big hand wrapped around Ronan’s dick. His huge dick. His huge dick that he thrusts into Logan’s hand, meeting his strokes.

Suddenly, my mouth is watering. I close my eyes in horror. What is wrong with me?

And then, all sound stops, and Ronan moans.

“You’ve been a brat all day. Do brats deserve to come?”

“Fuck you, fucker.”

I peek my eyes open to see Ronan struggling again, but Logan still has his hands over his head.

“Answer me, brat. Do brats deserve to come?”

“Yes!” Ronan jerks his hips up, his dick so hard it slaps against his stomach. And I realize that my dick is hard too. Painfully hard, actually. It’s throbbing in my pants, pressed up against my leg.

“No. Brats deserve to be punished.” Logan scoots up until he’s sitting on Ronan’s chest. Before I can look away, he yanks his dick out, slapping it down on Ronan’s face. “Suck me off, and maybe I’ll let you come.”

My mouth drops open as fascinated horror washes over me.

And then, Ronan opens his mouth and sucks the tip of Logan’s dick into his mouth, and it’s like all my thoughts are blown out the window. The man in front of me is sucking another man’s dick. It’s wrong. It’s dirty. And Logan looks like he’s enjoying every second of it. He clenches his ass, letting go of Ronan’s hands and pressing farther into his mouth.

“That’s a good boy. That’s my good, dirty boy.”

Ronan reaches out, grabbing Logan’s balls, and I feel a pulse go through my own. The blood is rushing violently through me, especially in my groin.

“Fuck yes. Fuck, you feel so good.” Logan is moaning, thrusting roughly into Ronan’s mouth. I hear Ronan gag, but he doesn’t try to get away. Just keeps letting Logan abuse him.

“That’s a nasty boy. Get me off with your mouth.” Logan’s last words come out strained, and I watch as his whole body stiffens. I realize with fascination that he’s about to come. Then, he presses in one last time with a shout, his whole body going rigid. I watch as he comes down Ronan’s throat. Ronan just sucks him down.

My own dick is pulsing. My hips do an involuntary jerk, seeking any sort of friction. My pants rub against it, sending a shiver of delight through me.

Dirty. Fucking wrong .

Then, Logan rips out of Ronan’s mouth, moving down to his dick, where he roughly jerks Ronan. Ronan grunts, shoving his hips up into Logan until cum explodes from him, and he shouts.

Watching Ronan’s whole body locked up as the huge man above him wrings all the pleasure from him does something unknown to me. Suddenly, my own body is jerking, seeking any slight friction from my pants. And then, with a horrified grunt, I come in my own pants.

The pleasure is blinding and unreal, pulse after pulse filling my pants. I come as quietly as I can. As soon as I’m done, I glance up at the other two. They’re wrapped up in each other, not even looking at me.

I just came. Watching a dirty fucking sin.

Shame fills me, washing over me in a cold wave. Suddenly, the sweat on my body is cold and I’m full of regret. What the hell did I just do?

“Such a good brat for me.” Logan strokes Ronan. “I love when you defy me.”

Ronan slurs something, but I can’t hear what it is. Logan chuckles, then gets up. He passes me on the way to the bathroom, throwing me a wink. He comes back with a towel, cleaning both of them off. Then, they both go to bed. In my bed. While I’m stuck, tied to a chair, with the evidence of my shame drying in my pants.