Page 50 of Second Sets Omnibus

You know, I’ve tried for years to get Callum in on my shenanigans and to loosen up. But the man is like a brick wall and never wants to play. Such a pity before, but now seeing him with our girl, well—things are changing in Callum’s world. Actually, in our world. I know Kieran is fully invested in this River thing, and now we are, too. The only person sitting on the bench is Asher. He’ll continue to fight with himself until he gives in and sinks his teeth into our girl. And boy, I can’t wait for that day. Not only will he loosen up and get the large stick out of his ass, but he’ll also finally get laid.

Callum is finally opening his horizons and seeing how easy it is to talk to her. When I walked into River’s bedroom this morning after breaking in through her sliding glass door—which reminds me, I need to punish her for leaving her door unlocked. A wicked grin splits my lips. I guess that’s what my handcuffs are for.

Anywho, the image of them snuggled so closely and the peace on his face I hadn’t seen in over a year was heart-stopping. So, I took a picture. And backed it up several times. If they ever get ahold of it, they’ll castrate me. She more than him. But I like my family jewels and would prefer them intact. I’ve seen what she can do with a knife, and I’m good.

“Once again, you’re unbeatable,” comes a deep voice behind me, causing River to stiffen against my body.

No, damn it, she was just warm and pliable against me. Now she’s as stiff as a board, glaring at Van with so much hate. Finally, she relaxes in my hold, rolling her eyes toward the sky in annoyance at his presence.

Van eyes River like a prize he wants to claim, but too bad for him. She’s fucking mine. Stupid, jealous idiot. It’s like if he can’t have River to himself, then no one can. But I have news for him.

I almost forgot old Donnie Boy started coming down to the track after he had to dump his Central girl into the gutter. Toobad for him. I scooped her right up, and now she’s mine and onto bigger—yeah, bigger—and better dicks. Except we have much nicer personalities, too. We’re the whole damn package, and Donnie is the trash panda begging for scraps.

“Ah, Donnie Boy,” I greet with a smile, pulling a resistant River further into my side.

I frown when she’s still stiff, barely breathing in this toxic idiot’s presence. Don’t resist my love, Pretty Girl. Go with the flow. I’ll never let this idiot touch you ever again or hurt you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” I grin again, tilting my head when his jealous eyes turn to River, who frowns at him with unease.

His eyes light up, jealousy taking him over. If he were a monster, he’d turn green with envy, snatch her out of my arms, and carry her to his kingdom. I’d be the gallant knight with sword in hand, ready to defend my girlfriend’s honor.

“Rivey,” he whispers, furrowing his brows. “You’re here?” His voice dips low in warning, like he’s secretly trying to tell her something.

“Yes, my girlfriend is here. With me,” I say, goading him with a friendly grin.

His eyes widen a smidge, and his head jerks back. Hook, line, and sinker, fucker.

Keeping my hands on her waist, I squeeze her into me, loving how her body feels against mine. God, I can’t get enough of her. I’d eat her… WAIT… I will eat her all up. But later. Maybe I’ll tie Van down and force him to watch as he kicks and screams, and I give River the best orgasm ever.

I love the way Van’s jaw ticks when he glares at her in disappointment and shakes his head.

“How much of a wager did you put on this one?” I ask, once again, poking the Van bear for my entertainment.

His jaw ticks, telling me all I need to know. He’s squandering away what his daddy paid him to step away from River and stayin college. I bet he never told River a thing. I wonder how he did it? Did he just walk away from the precious jewel in my arms like she was nothing more than toilet paper? I bet he did.

His nostrils flare, and I want to cackle at his stupid fucking face. “Callum,” he greets, ignoring me entirely while still watching River with an interested eye.

“Van,” Callum says in a deep voice, inclining his head in greeting, taking a step closer to River. The back of his fingers lightly skims against hers, drawing her into him.

“Congrats on the win. I guess I’ll see you at the neighborhood cookout next week,” Van says, thinning his lips. His beady, evil eyes fall on Callum and River’s pinkies hooking together.

I grin triumphantly when he balls up his fists. I live to piss this juvenile prick off. Nothing grinds my gears more than some idiot laying down and doing what their mommy and daddy told them to do. You know what mine told me to do? They told me no tattoos and piercings, and the moment I turned into an adult, the band was done. Fat chance is what I told them. No one takes away my band. They’re more family to me than the people who raised me.

In turn, they raised their haughty eyebrows at me like I was still their sweet little Rad. The son who didn’t move a toe out of line. Little did they know I had plans for freedom. The night of my eighteenth birthday, Cal brought me to his tattoo guy and helped me celebrate with the musical notes on my chest.

“I’m home!” The door slams behind me, louder than necessary, announcing my arrival.

“It’s ten-thirty!” my mother hisses, drying her hands on a towel in the kitchen.

“It’s Friday,” I retort without an ounce of emotion and grab a drink from the refrigerator.

The cold liquid slides down my throat, giving me the necessary courage. Throughout the entirety of my tattoo,regret sat in the back of my mind. My father’s words constantly played on a loop as I lay there, suffering through the pain of the needle. But it was what I wanted. I’ve been subjected to my father’s iron fist for so long. He may not have ever hit me, but I was done being subjected to something I didn’t quite believe.

Locking everything inside, I turn to face the man of the house. Wrinkles mar his older-looking face, tinting with disapproval. His dark eyes, similar to mine, rove over my neck, covered in protective plastic, and his entire body locks up.

You know, I could have gone the safe route and gotten music notes behind my ears or hell on my ass. My parents wouldn’t have seen those. At least, not right away. But why go small when you can go big and all the way? For years, my parents have warned me time and time again that every inch of my body is God’s temple. Every scar or scratch, they’d tsk me into being ashamed of falling off my bike or breaking my damn arm.

“Your body’s a temple, Ashton. Treat it like one. No tattoos or piercings are allowed under our roof.” Yeah, right. Okay. Sure.