Seven+Four (Angels of Wrath Book 6)

“This is Lori the Magnificent, what can’t I do for you?”

I roll my eyes at the way he answers the phone. “It’s Sari.”

“Hey, Angel. I’m having an Irish coffee with Ollie, want to join us?”

“I can’t. I’m at work.” I check the door of my lab, but Uri is still in Raph’s office.

“I need a favor.”

He hums. “I’ll do it if you give me something in exchange.”

“Just do it, Lor,” I hear Ollie scold him.

“Shush!”

“What do you want from me?” I ask.

“It’s pretty easy. Kiss a guy in front of Uri.”

Saliva goes into the wrong tube, and I start coughing.

“Look what you’ve done? That’s pretty shitty even for you,” Ollie barks at Lori over the line.

“That’s an oxymoron. Shit cannot be pretty,” Lori snaps back.

“That’s horribly shitty of you, then.”

“How dare you!”

When I’m able to breathe normally again, I question Lori, “Why do you want me to kiss a guy in front of Uri?”

“I’m tired of waiting. You both have enough pent-up sexual energy to power Chicago!” he huffs.

Is he suggesting that Uri and I…we… “I-I can’t do that! I want you to take me away from him…for the night. Tonight.” I gesture animatedly while talking.

“Did something happen?” Ollie sounds worried, which is the last thing I want. A few minutes, and all my brothers will converge here to find out who dared upset me.

“Beats me if I know what is going on between those two!” Lori mutters.

“I just need some fun time,” I hurriedly get out.

“Away from Uri?” Ollie’s voice is skeptical. Crap!

“I get it, Angel. A-holes be crazy.” Lori saves me from answering. “Bugger! This goes against my bet,” I think I hear him mumble.

“Who cares?” Ollie counters. “This is more important than a bet.”

What bet? My brothers are always laying wagers on…anything. I can barely keep up.

“Alright. I can never say no to you, it would be like committing sacrilege against a celestial being.” His silly statement still lifts a weight off my shoulders.

I’m running away from Uri; it’s childish and cowardly. But since he eavesdropped on my conversation with Linda at the hospital yesterday, I feel like there’s an insurmountable brick wall between us. A wall I don’t feel ready to face, yet.

“Where do you want to go?” Ollie asks.

“A club?” But I’m not in the mood for dancing. “No, a bar. I want to drink.” And forget.

“Shitface-night it is. I’ll come with Ollie and bring Michael too. They need to leave their ball-and-chains at home.”

“I’ll tell Gabe you call him that, you fucker.”

“I didn’t, you daft prick. I was referring to your husbands,” Lori responds.

“I dare you to say it to Raph’s face!”

“Are you sure you want to vex me when you need to borrow clothes from my wardrobe for tonight?”

“Fuck! If I die in one of your George Michael short-shorts and crop tops, I’ll be extra pissed off,” Ollie clips.

“Why?” I ask.

“’Coz it will be my ghost attire, and I’ll be stuck in that horror for eternity!”

“Ghosts don’t exist,” I hazard.

“We’ll pick you up from work? I’ll bring a change for you, as well. We’ll be there in an hour and a shake,” Lori lets me know.

“A shake?”

“One long blink and a cha-cha.” Lori keeps confusing me.

“Cha-cha?”

“Quit the nonsense, Lor.” Olli sighs, and I hear an “ouch” followed by a curse. “Be downstairs in an hour.”

Fifty eight minutes later, I’m in the Bear-Stone Labs building lobby with Michael and Raph. Thankfully, Uri had to go check one of his restaurants. He told me to wait for him, which I never had any intention of doing.

While Raph and Michael are shamelessly making out near the elevators, I send Uri a text to let him know I’ll be with the guys tonight—maybe I can ask Ollie to stay at his place. I haven’t seen Sully in a couple of weeks, and Albert E. will be fine in his big room. I put my phone on silent mode just as I wince at the loud sound of a long honk from outside.

I follow the noise out of the building; the cold weather hits my face, making me pull the collar of my coat up. My eyes find Ollie’s Jeep pretty quickly under the yellow light of the lampposts. He’s in the driver’s seat, trying to bat Lori’s hands from the horn.

“Stop it! You’re acting crazier than usual.” Ollie huffs with exasperation, adjusting his clothes.

Lori leans back into the passenger seat. “Not acting here.” He turns on the windshield wipers.

Ollie stops the squeaky sound, glaring at his best friend. “Now it’s edging into insanity!”

I open the back door and climb inside the car.

“Edging…I wish!” Lori snorts and then touches the wiper lever again. The squeaky sound is back. “I can never find a windshield wiper setting that truly satisfies me. Too slow, too fast, too discontinuous.”

I see Lori’s hand moving toward the lever near the wheel again.

“I got it, you’re pissed at Bez, but I swear if you touch that switch, I’ll… Oww! You bit me.” Ollie is rubbing his cotton-clad forearm, sending a murderous look at Lori.

“I’m feral.” Lori smirks wickedly at him.

“You should get a shot,” Michael giggles, appearing near the car.

“A rabies shot,” Raph states, helping his husband into the seat next to mine.

Lori crosses his arms, looking like a capricious child. “Ollie, you can’t drive with an injured arm. I’ll do it.”

He’s instantly shot down by everyone in a chorus—including me. Lori’s driving is scary. The memory I have of it sends a cold shudder down my spine.

“I’ll take Michael home right now if you even think about driving,” Raph growls, half bent inside the car, stern eyes on Lori.

“You’ll find whatever excuse to lock your hubby up for a rabbit-bonking-long month of Sundays.” Lori passes me the clothes I should wear tonight.

Raph growls low. “Where are you going?”

Nobody answers, so Michael cups my brother’s cheek. “You can track my phone, okay? I’ll text you when I’m ready to come home.”

“You better behave, piglet.” Raph sounds threatening.

But Michael simply smiles excitedly at him.“Oooor?”

“Message him the rest, we are losing light here.”

It’s technically dark already, but I do understand what Ollie means. Raph grabs Michael’s nape and lands a bruising kiss on his lips before turning my way. “Uri is looking for you.” His intense look is reading every single thought inside my head.

“I need this. Keep him away.” I turn my pleading eyes toward my big brother. Will Raph help me? I can’t tell by his blank face.

As soon as he slams the car door, Ollie drives away.

My phone keeps vibrating inside my bag, and I keep ignoring it.

“Bloody hell, talk about clinginess.” Lori makes a pfft sound. “Alright!” He turns toward me and Michael. “Your mission tonight, if you choose to accept it, is to get disgustingly drunk and shake your ass till it does it by itself.”

Ollie lets out a “Whoo-hoo!”

“Now, Sari, we all know you’re a gaygin.”

I frown at Lori as I start changing into the clothes he handed me.

“Gay-virgin,” Michael explains. It makes me blush; is it that obvious?

“So, I’ve been thinking—” he keeps going.

“Don’t hurt your mind,” Ollie taunts him.

“Sharp-tongued harpy, give me a little kissy-wissy.” Lori starts making smacking sounds with his lips.

“So you’ll bite my face too? I don’t think so. You’re such a pain in the ass!”

Lori proudly states, “I’m so stunning when others see their own reflections, they puke.”

“You’re right about the puking part; you’re a bit confused about who’s reflection they see.” Another taunt.

“Where are we going?” Michael asks, halting the banter.

“I don’t know, which is very Thelma and Louise of us.” Lori winks in the rearview mirror.

“They die in the end, right?” I don’t really watch TV or go to the movies, so I’m not sure.

“Let’s drive around and stop randomly every five minutes. It will drive our men wild while they’re tracking us.”

“Oh! We can use my stalking kit!”

“Isn’t this Ollie’s car?” Michael asks Lori.

“There’s one in the trunk.”

“What is that doing in my trunk?” Ollie frowns.

“First of all, this is Sully’s Jeep, not yours. And second, none of you crybabies let me drive anymore, so I stashed one in each car.” He shrugs.

“How did you pull that off?” Michael asks.

“I had some external help.”

“Clover,” I guess, pulling my pants down.

“B-I-ngo!” Lori beams, until he sees Ollie. “You look like I ran over your cat.”

“You almost did it once!” Ollie barks.

“Did I? Am I supposed to remember all the animals I ran over?”

“You’re supposed to not do it,” Michael tells him.

“They were mostly sewer rats and cockroaches.”

“The latter are insects,” I tell him.

Lori pouts for a moment. “Okay. Let’s go back to the juicy conversation. Sari, I’ll make it my personal mission to find you a nice, hot bloke to help you get off tonight.”

“For the love of God,” I hear Ollie mutter.

“I’m okay, Lori,” I try. Do I want his help? Maybe I do need it since past experience didn’t go so well.

“It’s going to be easy. Maybe you won’t even need me.”

“I won’t?” I ask hopefully.

“Adorable if naive. You are too unaware of yourself, Angel. I’ll help with the screening process, alright?”

I nod, a bit confused by his words. My phone stopped vibrating. Did Raph distract Uri? Or did Uri get fed up? The last possibility upsets me. I’m such a mess.

“Rami told me about a place the other day,” Michael suddenly says, checking his phone. “It’s a bar not too far from here. I’m sending you the pin.”

“Got it.” Ollie taps on the Jeep’s navigation screen. “I need the booze to do its work. Being sober just leads to murderous thoughts,” Ollie grumbles, sending a glance to his right where Lori is happily humming what sounds like “Livin’ la Vida Loca.”

After fifteen minutes, Ollie parks the red Jeep on the street and we make our way to the bar. The wooden sign reads Wine, Cock, and Beer.

“I dig the name.” Lori winks at me and hooks his arm with mine as we go inside. It’s bigger and nicer than I expected. The lights are dimmed, giving the place a warm glow. The air is sweet and rich, compared to the outside chill. The round bar counter is in the middle of the room and people are sitting in the brown booths or gathered around the high wooden tables surrounding it. The clink of glasses and loud chatter relegate the notes of some pop song to the background.

Lori pulls me toward the bar. The sparkly, white counter—the exact same shade as my nail polish—feels cold under my fingers. The two bartenders look busy as they swiftly prepare one cocktail after another.

I undo the buttons of my coat but leave it on. The clothes Lori’s lent me are beautiful but slightly too revealing for my liking. A very short, leather skirt, black stockings and a soft sweater that leaves part of my belly and one shoulder bare.

“Tequila shots! And keep them coming,” Lori orders, and after a moment eight little glasses appear in front of us.

“Elbows up!” Ollie says, before downing his glass.

This is not my first time having shots with them. I like tequila, it gives me a nice buzz. So I follow their example, and three glasses later, my stomach starts to burn slightly.

A guy slides in next to me, but Lori raises his arm to push him away. “Come back in ten minutes. He needs to drink more.” He winks, and the guy nods and leaves but not before sending me a heated look.

“What just happened?”

“First rule of hooking up,” Ollie raises one finger, “if he comes back, it means he’s really interested in you. If he doesn’t, it’s his loss.”

“I want to drink a Tequila Sunrise, anyone else?” Michael asks us.

“I’ll try one.” I raise my hand.

The sudden feel of a body pressing against mine turns my back stiff.

“Did it hurt?” The misty words uttered near my ear make me flinch.

“What?” I shift, forcing the body to move back slightly. There’s a tall, large, brawny guy in front of me. He’s wearing a very tight long-sleeve shirt, his blond hair is gelled back, and his black jeans leave almost nothing to the imagination.

“When you fell from heaven…did it hurt?” His fingers caress the end of my braid, forcing me to lean away against the counter behind me.

“Did you just confuse me with Lucifer?” I ask, not understanding his sudden question.

His eyes stop going up and down my body, lingering on my legs. I feel a little uncomfortable.

“Lucifer?” The guy’s expression has turned into a frown now. “No…I…”

“Ohhh, burn!” I hear Lori snort, but the guy’s attention is completely on me. He’s objectively handsome, but my body is rejecting his nearness.

“Never mind. I am here now. What are your other two wishes?” He gives me a toothy smile, leaving me puzzled once again.

“Crikey, you can’t stop being lame,” Lori clips just before he drags me close to him.

The beefy guy sends a hateful look Lori’s way.

“Find it hard to follow me? Yeah, my fiancés have the same problem at times.”

“Fiancés?” he asks.

“He has two,” Ollie explains, before gulping another shot.

“Wow! I can actually see the smoke coming out of his head,” Michael laughs at the guy.

“Fucking bitches!”

“If I wasn’t already married, this would have me erase Tinder from my phone,” Ollie teases.

“Fuck you, you crazy, ugly whores.” The guy’s face has turned red, he looks furious. Another very tall, very beefy man has made his way over, a friend of his I suppose.

“Were you suddenly hit with Tourette’s syndrome?” Lori asks him.

“No, Lor. He’s simply an incel.” Ollie smirks, giving the guy a long look.

“A what?” he growls angrily.

“An incel is a person, usually male, who has a horrible personality and treats people like sexual objects, thinking his lack of a sex life comes from being ‘unlucky’ when the cause is his blatant sexism and terrible attitude.”

“In other words, he is the entitled jerk who calls you an ‘ugly bitch’ right after you ignore or reject his brave, but gross attempt at an opening line,” Michael adds.

“Hard pass,” Lori finishes. “Plus this bitch,” he touches his chest, “is very crafty. I suggest you shut your arse and run along!”

“Fuck that! Let’s settle this outside, you freaks!” the blond guy snarls.

“Really? Didn’t you hear my crafty bitch warning?”

“We need to meet the others in thirty minutes, Al,” the tall friend reminds the blond guy of…a previous engagement.

“Look at them,” he counters with a snort. “I’ll need less than five minutes.”

“Less than five,” Lori echoes.

“What?” the friend utters with disdain dripping from his voice. He crosses his arms in a deliberate move that shows his huge biceps under the parka he’s wearing. “Are you scared, Tinker fucking Bell?”

He seems to be an incel as well.

Lori turns his gaze on him. I’ve seen that crazy look in his eyes every time he’s about to make someone eat their words. Oh boy.

“Let’s do it.” Ollie finishes his cocktail through the metal straw and then moves toward the back of the bar without looking back.

I open my mouth to try to stop him, but Michael’s hand squeezing my shoulder halts the words in my throat. I’m not afraid for my friends, I know they can wipe the floor with these rude guys, I just don’t want them to do it because of me.

“You need a distraction, right? Lori and Ollie need to vent a little. Birds, stone.” Michael hands me a cocktail glass and then pulls me across the bar and outside into the smoking area. It looks like a veranda, delineated by physical partitions all around, two sliding windows, and a roof. Four tall ashtrays are standing at the four corners and little round lights decorate the walls. I can see a few cars in the alley outside and a couple of dumpsters under the lampposts illuminating the silent area.

The windows are closed, but the air is chilly in here. The two beefy men talk low for a few seconds. The friend seems eager to finish this.

I’m fidgeting from one foot to the other, moving close to Michael. It’s cold, and I feel like I’m once again the cause of another mess. I did need a distraction but not of this kind.

“Do you want gel man or parka dude?” Lori asks Ollie, they look both at ease and excited about the upcoming fight. They love the adrenaline, the thrill that comes from subjugating an asshole—I’m quoting their words.

“Parka dude, I guess.” As soon as Ollie finishes uttering those words, parka dude moves toward him. He’s taller and with more muscle mass. The difference in size doesn’t seem to intimidate Ollie—he used to be part of an illegal underground fight ring, That’s how he met Rague. He also trains with him, who’s triple parka dude’s build.

Ollie evades two punches aimed at his face and a knee to his chest, before hitting the other man in the side and then kicking his knee, moving in the perfect position to trip him. As the big guy stumbles forward, Ollie spins and elbows him in the nape, and then lands a merciless, full kick to his back. I get out of the way as parka dude hits his forehead against one of the ashtrays and then falls heavily on the floor. Damn, he’s tall. Less than a minute, and the first guy is already down.

My eyes move to Lori. Gel man has pulled him against his front, a knife is resting against Lori’s throat. I let out a terrified gasp, but Lori smoothly lifts both his hands to grab the large arm around his throat. He bites it viciously and then twists it outward, breaking the guy’s hold on him.

“Bringing a knife to a fist fight, so naughty of you, gel man.” He spins around and takes the knife out of the guy’s fingers. Then he stabs it into his thick thigh. The blade slices through fabric and skin easily, making the man scream in pain as Lori gives it a slow twist, going deeper into the rectus femoris muscle. The attacker is growling and sweating when Lori steps back, pulling the knife out. He kicks him in the balls, making him stagger away holding both his thigh and groin now. His pant leg is turning crimson red like his cheeks as he drops to one knee, groaning. Lori throws the knife in the air and catches it by the blade, ready for the next attack.

“You should have listened to my suggestion, you daft prick,” Lori scoffs. Then he abruptly brings down the knife’s handle on the guy’s temple and watches him fall unconscious to the hard floor.

“That’s it? Those guys were pathetic,” Lori whines. “I thought they’d have a little more stamina or at least a better pain threshold, for bloody sake.”

Ollie is tapping his shoe on parka guy’s side, but there’s no response.

“It was entertaining,” Michael assures him, drinking from his glass. I completely forgot about mine. My fingers feel frozen around it.

“This is all my fault,” I mumble around the cocktail straw.

“Not true, Angel. Thanks to this, Bez won’t be strangled tonight.” Lori smiles at me.

“What did he do?” Michael asks.

“He said my face’s beauty regimen is shit and threw all my creams in the trash!”

Oh, that’s like declaring war to Lori, he’s obsessed with his skin care routine.

“But what did you do to make him react like that?” Ollie turns our way.

“Nothing.”

“The way you scoffed it out implies there’s definitely something,” Ollie insists.

“I might have kept him waiting for…a while.”

“How long is a while?” Michael tilts his head in question.

“One…Two hours—” Lori starts to say when I see movement out of the corner of my eye.

“Watch out!” I scream just as parka dude comes down on us. Ollie tries to stop the punch, but it finds his stomach. Lori hits the dude’s throat as I splash my drink on his face. Michael pulls one of his arms back as Lori does the same on the other side until I hear two cracks, probably from both shoulders being dislocated, and a loud groan. They let him go and face him again.

With a grunt Ollie moves in front of him, glaring he raises his fisted hand and lands a few hard hooks to the guy’s solar plexus. I hear a pop, and then a shower of white powder hits me. All of us.

I start coughing as I inhale the substance, while parka guy falls on his knees and then face on the ground, forcing me and Michael to take a couple of steps back.

“What the fuck is this shit?” Lori is blowing out air while shaking his head to make the powder fall down from his curls.

“It’s…cocaine,” I tell him. “I could test it back at the lab, but I’m pretty sure.” I’ve helped my brothers get rid of more than one drug dealer. Studying drugs became a side hobby.

“No need. It’s coke.” Ollie’s eyes widen. “Dick used to sell it.” His late father.

“Oh fuck!” Michael mutters, spitting on the ground. His jacket has cocaine all over the right shoulder.

Ollie crouches near the guy on the ground and lifts an almost empty plastic bag that was hanging halfway out of the parka’s large, open pocket. There is residual cocaine inside. Ollie must have broken the bag when he punched the guy, forcing the drug out. Gravity and the dude’s incredible height did the rest.

He starts slapping parka dude, but he doesn’t wake up. I turn to the other guy on the ground, but he looks out of it, as well.

“What should we do?” Ollie asks, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“Do you feel any discomfort?” Michael asks. “Shortness of breath, chest pain, itchy skin?”

We all shake our heads.

“No allergic reaction, then. That’s good.”

“Is it? We sniffed coke!” Lori barks.

“It was an accident,” I remind him. “And we didn’t inhale a large amount. We can go to the hospital if you want.”

Lori snorts. “And tell them what? That we accidentally inhaled coke while beating a guy?”

“We just have to wait for it to leave our systems,” Michael states. He goes to the windows and slides them open.

“You got some on your nose,” I let him know.

“Hairy Fucking Fairy!” Lori exclaims, standing on top of gel man’s back, who’s still lying on the ground.

“Why are you using our safe-bestie protocol code word?” Ollie snarls at him, receiving a shrug back. He kicks the parka dude twice in the side before looking up and growling. I also look up. The roof is pretty high.

I feel the change overtaking me already. Euphoria along with an elevated heart rate.

“Damn. This is the year of the high for me.” Lori chuckles. A couple of months ago, he was dosed, that’s how he kind of ended up with Gabe.

“Not again,” Ollie grumbles. “No. No. Don’t want to trip again.”

“Oh right, you were drugged too. Wait, no, you drugged yourself.” Michael frowns at him.

“Not on purpose.” Ollie suddenly snorts and slaps Michael’s shoulder, causing another cloud of cocaine to billow around us. I step back to avoid breathing it in.

“Fuck! I’ve seen this movie, and my character ends up dead on the way home.” Michael looks anxious. Exaggeratedly so.

“Don’t go home, then,” Ollie clips.

“Ah, Okay.”

“Stressed spelled backward is desserts,” Lori suddenly states.

And to that I say, “It’s called a semordnilap, a word that becomes a different word when read backward.”

“Yeah? Too many glasses means fat asses,” Ollie adds.

I giggle. “We are losing our brain-to-mouth filters.”

“When did Lori ever have one?” Ollie asks, smirking at his bestie’s lifted finger. He lifted the wrong one.

“You mean our brain-to-action filter.” Michael points at Lori still on top of the guy.

“I feel, wow! I feel great.” I don’t really know who says that.

“I’m going to see a man about a dog,” Lori abruptly utters, as he moves away from the sleeping dude.

“Pet shops are closed,” I tell him.

“Gonna go piss, Angel.” With a dog?

“Where?” Michael widens his arms, showing him the smoking area.

“I’ll find a bottle…a place,” he says over his shoulder as he walks back inside the bar.

That reminds me of the glass still in my hand. I’m so thirsty all of a sudden, but the glass is empty. My leg starts vibrating. I look down and frown at it. I pat my coat, and oh, my phone!

“Guys, I George Michaeled the shit out of Lori’s clothes.” Ollie is looking down at the white shorts and light blue puffer jacket he’s wearing.

“You did!” I tell him even though I don’t know who this George Michael is. A fashion designer?

“Sing the Go-Go song!” Michael tells him excitedly.

Just as Ollie starts making weird dancing moves, Lori comes back, stopping him.

He’s munching on something. “I have an idea.”

“I hate when you have ideas, I get nervous.” Ollie sniffs, scratching his nose.

My nostrils are a bit itchy as well.

“Let’s go dancing!” Lori jumps up and down. High energy and excitability, another short-term effect of the drug. “Give me the car keys.”

Ollie hands them to him. “I must be really high to think of getting into a car with you.”

“I’m hungry,” Michael complains.

“Mmm. Here!” Lori tosses him a protein bar before going back to his own. “Let’s have a nibble now and then go.”

They’re both tearing into those bars like they are…candy.

“Since I can’t tear into a certain person…” Lori says.

Did he read my mind? I didn’t know cocaine could be so strong. The high purity of it must be the cause of its intense effectiveness, and the fact that this is my first time and…what was I thinking about?

“Bez is a troglodyte jerk.” I nod at Lori. “But then Gabe is a jerk too.”

“They are jerks. I love them,” I say, my throat is really dry.

“You’re softhearted.” Michael doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“No! I’m selfish and wicked.”

“Please. You are like a dew fairy, living on pure sunshine and rainbows,” Lori snaps back.

“My thoughts are not pure.” I huff.

“Enough of your humble bragging,” Ollie suddenly exclaims.

Lori wraps an arm around Ollie’s shoulders. “Oh! I bet you’re thinking about a certain brother.”

“Foster brother,” Michael corrects him.

“I mean now there’s two of him! Two Uris! Two possessive beasts to tame.”

“No. There’s one Uri and one Ezra, who could turn out to be very dangerous,” Ollie interjects.

“Who isn’t in this family?” Michael reminds us with a snort. “Thinking of dangerous hunks, I want Raph,” he whines.

Lori keeps going, ignoring everyone. “You could have double fun!”

I swallow. “Fun?”

“The sexual kind,” he whispers darkly.

I pull on my braid. “I’m not a sexy femme fatale, how can I make Uri look at me?”

“Angel, Uri is a simple creature with very simple needs. Torturing, eating, torturing, fucking, torturing and repeat…”

“What’s your point?” I ask a little irritated. My nose keeps itching.

“I’ve learned two things are important in life. One, the passage of time is a cruel mistress, give it the finger by moisturizing every day. Two, when you want something, go for it. Idle hands do the Devil’s work. Use those fingers of yours, Angel. Use the crap out of them!”

“You could play him like a banjo,” Ollie interjects.

I feel a wave of confidence enveloping me. “Yes. I can play him!” Why have I been hesitating? I can’t even remember. All excuses. I could have him easily. “No idle hands. Banjo playing!”

“Exactly! Just close your eyes and think how great it would be to kiss Uri…and Ezra.” Lori gestures toward my eyes. But I don’t close them yet.

“I don’t want Ezra.” I’ve never even met him, and I kind of…don’t want to. Maybe. I don’t know.

“Okay, so just Uri then.” Lori sounds disappointed by my monogamous desires.

I take a big breath and let my eyelids fall down. The memory of his wet lips on mine is still so vivid. What would have happened if I’d moved my tongue? I need to drink from his lips again. I want to suck his tongue clean off.

“My heart rabbited in my chest!” Lori’s loud voice jolts me back to reality. He has his eyes closed and a big smile on his face. “Hooo Angel, I thought Uri would be the devouring one, but you’re like a horny monkey!”

Am I?

“Kissing requires thirty-four facial muscles and one-hundred-twelve postural muscles,” is my dull reply.

“Bugger, that’s a lot of moving,” Lori remarks.

Michael’s hand falls on my shoulder. “Just ride him out like an earthquake, he’ll love it.”

The image of me on top of Uri makes me blush. I feel a tingling sensation in my stomach, and my butthole can’t stop clenching. Does cocaine also stimulate sexual desire?

“Is it hot? I feel hot,” Lori asks, taking off his jacket. I look at the snow on the roofs of the cars on the street. Increased body temperature is another effect caused by the drug.

I slide the coat off my shoulders and slowly hang it on my arm. I pat it like I would a cat. It feels so soft. Wasn’t I holding a glass?

“Where the fuck is he?” Rague’s deep growl booms suddenly through the air just before he appears, followed by Gabe.

“Oh joy, they are here.” For once I get Lori’s sarcasm.

“You called them! Or did I?” Michael seems confused.

“Now that I think about it…maybe I did.” I can’t remember. My brain feels floaty and bright.

“I didn’t. I think,” Ollie whispers.

“Our only option here is to fake a stroke…or have a real one,” Lori suggests, forcing us into a circle.

“You start. Lie down and try not to die.” Michael points at the ground.

“I don’t want to lie next to those two!” Lori gestures to the two unconscious men.

“We can hear you. Your whispering is very loud,” Gabe lets us know.

“What the fuck happened here?” Rague stops near Ollie and grabs his face. “Why are your pupils blown, kitty?”

“All their pupils are.”

“We might have inhaled some cocaine,” I say.

“Ahhh, stop with the Paddington hard stare,” Lori grumbles at Gabe. “This wasn’t me. Ollie did it!” He throws his bestie under the bus. That’s rough.

“Hey! I just punched the guy after he landed one on me. I didn’t know he was carrying coke in a crappy plastic bag! You antagonized him in the bar,” Ollie states, pointing a finger at Lori.

“Which one hit you?” Rague snarls angrily. He looks barely in control. Ollie waves in parka dude’s direction.

“Raph and Uri are coming.” Gabe sends me a serious look.

“Yay! I miss my caveman. I feel lonely,” Michael moans, laying his head against mine.

Uri is coming? “I’m not high enough for this crap.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, a chorus of laughter resounds around us—us being the buzzed ones. My two brothers don’t seem to share the merriment.

“Let me recap,” Gabe starts, staring at his fiancé. “You had a fight with some lowly drug dealers and inhaled an indeterminate amount of cocaine.”

Rague lifts the broken cocaine bag from the floor and, after rubbing some on his pinky, he tastes it.

“It’s pure,” he states before grabbing the front of the man’s parka to pull him up and lay two hard punches on his already bruised face. Rague gets very upset when someone touches his husband.

“Inhaled pure cocaine and then butt-dialed me,” Gabe finishes, taking a picture of parka guy.

“Who did?” Lori asks.

“You did, Little Wasp,” Bez replies, grabbing Lori’s waist and pulling him against his body.

“We could hear you whining about your face creams, singing a Mariah Carey X-mas song, trying to think about the best petty revenge ever planned, and talking to someone about some protein bars,” Gabe explains.

“Oh! The vending machine, my full bladder found it. They taste delicious.” He takes a protein bar out of his pink bag and shows it to his fiancé before pulling his hand back. “Oi, I forgot that I’m mad at you. Yes, I’m very mad even if you are so bloody handsome.” Lori is molding Gabe’s face with his fingers like it’s playdough.

“We should take them to a doctor,” Rague says.

“Chill. We didn’t breathe in that much,” I retort.

“I sent the dealer’s photo to Rami. He keeps an eye on all the pushers around Chicago and should be able to tell us what kind of…” Gabe’s phone beeps, stopping his explanation as he looks at the screen. “The dealer’s name is Jason Andrews. He sells white powder cocaine, the purest in the city, thank fuck.”

“Yay! We just need to ride the high, then. We will be fiiiiine. Let’s go dancing!” Michael exclaims. “Hey! Where’s my glass?”

“Oh my God! That’s exactly what I was thinking…before,” I tell him.

“It’s amazing. Like mind reading.” Michael grabs my hands, lacing our fingers as we smile at each other. I hear a thud. Suddenly I feel so light and carefree. It’s the best.

“Are you thinking we should go to a dance club right now?” he asks me.

“No,” I reply. “But let’s go!”

Gabe hauls Lori over his shoulder and slaps his butt.

“Or we could do that,” Michael points at them.

“Hey, put me down! I’m the sass master, how dare you lay your hands on me,” Lori complains.

“Take the snarky gremlin away.” I smile impossibly wide as I hear Uri’s smooth, deep voice. An earful of melted caramel just like his golden skin. My gut tightens with want as I see the predatory grace of his stride. I can’t keep my eyes off him. His dreads are high in a ponytail, putting all the facial piercings on display. He’s wearing black jeans, leather boots, and a large red sweater.

“I’ll dip your balls in honey and stick you in an ant farm, Super Model!” Lori threatens him, but Uri doesn’t even look his way.

He stops in front of me, his angry eyes stare me down and bruising fingers grab my chin. “Dilated pupils. Fuck!”

I cling to his stiff body and bury my face in his neck, inhaling his rich sandalwood scent. His chest vibrates against mine with every word he utters. “You weren’t fucking joking.”

“Like I would about something like this,” Rague barks.

I nuzzle my nose against his neck, breathing hard as I feel his fingers threading through my hair at my nape. Delicious shivers go up and down my body, and I let out a low moan.

“Your husband is like a koala in heat,” I hear Raph say.

“Yours is asking for sexual gratification too fucking loud,” Rague retorts.

“No dancing, then?” I turn my head to look at Lori, still dangling from Gabe’s shoulder. He seems…comfortable, groping my brother’s butt.

“No. Pollo Loco is waiting at home,” Gabe tells him as he starts walking away. Is he talking about Lori’s pet hen, Wednesday?

“Right, we need to be off to Bedfordshire. Happy trails, bozos. We’re going to put some memories in our memory foam bed!” he screams as he disappears with Gabe inside the bar.

Ollie is wrapped around Rague like a monkey, while Michael is on Raph’s back piggy-back style. He’s whispering something into his husband’s ear.

“Keep begging me, babe. I’ll have you kneeling at my feet soon,” Raph answers back with a devilish smirk.

Their exchange makes my dick throb as I imagine myself kneeling at Uri’s feet.

I’m suddenly lifted off my feet. Uri’s forearms are under my butt and his body is plastered to mine. As he starts walking, my dick rubs against his hard abs with every step he takes, making me bite my lower lip until I feel blood on my tongue. It’s so good, my brain turns foggy as zaps of electricity hit my lower body.

I turn my head and lick his neck. His skin tastes amazing, sweet and delicious, so incredible.

“Dibs,” I declare. He stops walking for a moment, but then his steps resume.

I don’t hear nor see anything else, too taken by the pleasure I’m feeling, until Uri lowers me inside his car. The sudden distance between us turns my skin to ice. But the fire inside me keeps burning, and I don’t want to keep it at bay this time.

He leans against the car, both arms on the roof, wide chest on display as I look up at him from the passenger seat. He’s so close, I feel his warm breath gliding across my skin, and ohmygod if that didn’t put dirty thoughts into my head. I’m still riding the coke high and don’t feel like coming down anytime soon.

“You okay? The effects of the drug will last a few more hours.” His intense stare makes me purr like a cat. Even though he seems annoyed with me, I want him to keep looking at me and then touch me and take me.

What did he ask me? The smell of him heightens inside the car’s cabin.

“Not answering your phone can have serious consequences, Sari.” His calm, controlled tone is hiding a commanding edge of a threat.

My lips part. I want to apologize and tell him I won’t do it again. But what if I like the idea of receiving those consequences? Of feeling them on my skin?

My hands tremble as I remember the saying about idle hands. Uri suddenly grabs my left one, pushing our palms together, our identical scars touching. The blood promise we all made to never turn our back on one another, no matter what. His touch feels scalding, and I flinch back.

He instantly tightens his grip but then lets go to close the car door. A moment later he’s sitting in the driver seat. He turns on the engine, but doesn’t start driving. I catch his eyes slowly sliding down my body, a glint of appreciation in their depths, or is it the drug talking? Not caring about reality or drug-induced make-believe, need swells inside me until I can’t contain it anymore.

“Can I suck your dick?” I ask in a voice hoarse with nerves. I see the words as they come out of my mouth, floating in a line in the air, until they fade like clouds in the wind near his beautiful face.

A few seconds silently pass by, with his dark, intense eyes fixed on me.

I shift until I’m sitting on my knees on the leather seat, facing him. “I’ve never done it, and I really, really want to do it…to you.”

His jaw ticks. “If you expect me to back off because you’re high, you’re mistaken.”

I don’t. I know who Uri is. He’ll protect me from anyone and anything, but that doesn’t mean he’s a good guy.

“I don’t want you to back off. I want you to use my mouth,” I confess boldly.

I lick my lips and glance down at his groin. My chest feels impossibly full, lava swirling down to my balls, making them prickle with anticipation.

“Fuck, how can I say no to that, Baby Blue?” His large hand moves down to his pants, stopping for a moment. When his fingers still don’t move, I look up. He’s searching my face, and he must find what he’s looking for because he finally undoes the buttons. The first thunk sound reveals some brown hair, lighter than I expected. No underwear; the sight makes my mouth fill with saliva. The second thunk almost makes me gasp and melt with anticipation. Then the third displays some smooth skin before he whips his dick out.

Holy. Shit.

My attention is laser-focused on it. I imagined he was big, but seeing it up close? Hard for me—which is a mind-fuck—long and thick, pink tip glistening wetly. But the best part is that his beautifully proportionated dick is completely pierced from root all the way to the tip.

He tsks. “Changing your mind?” The taunt goes over my head. I’m too awestruck by the view. I crawl toward him, the little mole on the crown of his dick is calling my name.

I dip down and lick it. The taste of him bursts inside my mouth. Salty, rich, and slick, so damn potent that it takes over all my senses. I lick the next bead of pre-cum that wells out, and the next. I’m tasting Uri, and it’s better than I’ve ever imagined. I could live on his flavor.

“Thirsty, aren’t we? Do you like it?” he hisses.

I nod, keeping my tongue on his crown. My dick is leaking inside my thong, throbbing with desire.

“Drink more, then. Suck on the tip, feed on it.” His voice has become deep and raspy. He’s turned on just like I am.

A deep eagerness simmers through me as I part my lips around his pierced crown, sucking it inside and then nibbling on the piercing with my teeth. He pulls on my braid, wrapping it around his wrist, while his other hand slides over my nape to grab my head. I feel his fingers tightening, sending a delicious sting all over my scalp, but soon the grip loosens.

“Open up now. Watch your teeth,” he instructs me.

“It’s not my first time,” I reassure him.

His body turns rigid, hand pulling my braid back as he glares at me. “All your firsts are supposed to be mine!”

What? My brain is too foggy to process his words.

He lets out a terrifying roar. “I’ll kill them. Breaking all their bones.” I can see the gory intention in his flaming eyes.

“Them?”

“All the motherfuckers who touched you.” The cocaine in my system is telling me to sit on his lap and impale myself on his cock. But the pain his fingers pulling on my hair is giving me feels too good. I want more. I need to provoke him more.

“You have no right to…”

He yanks my head even further, displaying my neck to him. I bite my lip to stifle the moan.

“Don’t fucking finish that sentence unless you want me to go on a murderous rampage, Sari.”

“Of dildos?” I did touch second base with Trent—or was it third base? But it’s better to not tell the overprotective sociopath that.

“What?”

“I practice with my dildo,” I clarify.

Seeing the possessiveness in Uri’s gaze at discovering my almost entire lack of experience, all I can feel is a bit of unfairness and delight.

A shudder spreads through me and before I can think, he thrusts his dick all the way to the back of my throat. I loosen my jaw so he can go as far as possible, almost choking me. I hope my lack of gag reflex will bring him such a pleasure, he’ll come back for more.

“Holyfuckinghell. Swallow around me. Mmm. You’re taking it so well, Baby Blue.”

I swallow again around his pierced crown before pulling his cock out, tugging on the piercing with my teeth. The metal feels so good under my tongue. I lick his length up and down before taking as much as possible all the way to the back of my throat again. His hands lace behind my head, arms quivering on my shoulders like he’s trying hard to control himself. But his wrists are pressing my head forward, gently at first, then more forcibly choking me on his long, hard cock. My eyes water uncontrollably as I try to pull air inside my lungs. God it feels so good!

“Fuuuck!” he growls like a wild animal. “Cry for me.”

His hips jerk back and forth against the seat as he starts fucking my mouth. His rhythm turns wild, his piercing bumping the back of my throat with every thrust. More pressure forms behind my eyes, tears keep falling down my cheeks, drool down my chin. The pain, the pleasure is so exquisite my eyes roll back inside my skull, and I’m not even touching myself.

“Even your tears are beautiful. Keep crying, I want to hear you sob,” he hisses with his cock still pumping in and out of my mouth.

I swallow, causing the muscles of my throat to constrict around his crown. His growl is music to my ears, and I do it again. Every scrape of his piercings and every groan of pleasure is fixing little by little all the broken parts inside me. Cocaine gave me the courage to leap, but what keeps me high is his smell, his touch, and the heated look in his eyes.

I release his dick with a pop as I take deep breaths.

“Am I servicing your cock well?” I ask him, just like the guy in the sexy video did. I know I’m probably a slobbery mess, but he’s gazing at me with pure passion. I swear I can see flames licking inside his eyes. Am I dreaming?

Instead of giving me an answer, he commands, “Suck on my fingers.” Just before forcing three in my mouth. “This lewd face belongs to me.” He growls as I suck hard on those long fingers. They taste good, but I prefer his cock. “Pull up that slutty skirt.”

I eagerly do as he says. I gasp and my dick almost explodes as I realize that the ripping sound I’m hearing is Uri tearing my stockings. Can he see my cream-colored lace thong now?

“Keep your ass out, just like that.”

His pumping cock replaces the digits in my mouth as the tip of two fingers slowly spear my hole. The pain of the stretch is very real. It fires up something inside me. So many different sensations all at once.

My balls draw up, everything turns white, and then ecstasy explodes out of my dick. I moan around his cock while more cum spurts out, wetting more lace.

Uri doesn’t stop fucking both my holes. “Are you coming with my dick in your mouth, Sari?” He lets out a low chuckle. “Good. Keep fucking your ass on my fingers.”

I realize with utter shock that I’m helping him drive in and out of my ass. I’m rocking back and forth, taking what feels like four fingers all the way inside. I let out a muffled cry, my mind hazy with need and lust. I’m drowning in Uri’s scent, Uri’s rough touch, Uri’s dirty words.

His dick seems to get even thicker and heavier in my mouth with every thrust.

“Don’t stick anything else in your hole from now on, or else,” he threatens. “If you shove anything other than my cock up your ass, I’ll punish you!”

Yes, yes. I want it. Whatever he gives me. I’m drunk on him and the pleasure he’s giving me.

A sudden smack resounds in the car. The pain radiates on the top of my butt, sending a glorious sensation from my brain to my hardening dick. Oh my God. My eyes cross, and I almost melt against the seat. Those long fingers rubbing the burning skin, I want them to hurt me again. I can’t ask him, though, since his dick is still keeping my mouth full.

“Were you roaming around looking for cock tonight? Is that why you didn’t reply to any of my calls or texts?” My glassy eyes find his angry ones just as his broad palm comes down on the other butt cheek, turning my entire body into an oversensitive bundle of nerves.

Another orgasm—stronger than the first one—makes me a shuddering mess. My knees almost give out as I grab for life on Uri’s thigh.

“Fuck,” he snarls, and thrusts harder, making my throat achingly raw. “Milk my cock dry.”

He drives his fingers inside my ass and grinds and hooks them, touching a place inside me that incites one more striking spasm—my cock dribbles another small spurt of cum. The continuous waves of pleasure keep going.

He suddenly stiffens and pulses on my tongue, while I swallow desperately, trying to get every drop inside my stomach. The sound of his grunts and the sight of extreme pleasure on his upturned face leave me filled with immeasurable satisfaction.

He waits a little, then slowly dislodges his cock from my throat, dragging the pierced head over my tongue. He rubs it there a couple of times, seemingly hypnotized by the sight before pulling all the way out. A few drops of cum escape, and I lick my lips, trying to catch them all.

He grabs my braid again to pull me up and drop me against his chest. I gasp with surprise, but he’s too busy untangling my hair. I bury my face in his dreads and just breathe him in. It almost feels like he has no intention of letting me go. His fingers run through the loose strands as he starts licking a warm, wet path up my throat.

My heart hammers, my breath catches, my entire, trembling being is solely focused on his smooth tongue slowly going over my skin.

“I want to fucking feast on your body until there’s nothing left but your taste in my mouth,” he whispers so seductively, my head falls back while my sated body attempts to come to life once again. His fingers grip my waist and a soul-affirming, exhilarating rush rips a long moan out of me.

I wish he’d bite me, that he’d leave a mark on my skin, proof for me to see that this really happened.noveldrama

He suddenly dips his head, and I tilt my chin up to meet his mouth. One breath, my body coils, about to spring into action. I want it so badly that I ache for it. Then his lips are on mine, and a million nerve endings fray as everything gets hot. No matter how many times I’ve daydreamed about kissing Uri, the reality far surpasses the fantasy.

His mouth takes control of mine the same way he has taken control of my body. I feel like he’s going to eat me up, open me and taste me. I’m lying here, bare for him to use however he wants. The feel of his cold tongue piercing rubbing around my mouth makes me shiver with desire, and I plaster my chest against his, rubbing my nipples over his pecks, needing more friction, more closeness. Why are we still wearing clothes?

Is it possible for a moment to last forever? Because if there’s any moment I want to continue to infinity, it’s this one, with him surrounding me. One kiss, and I feel like my body and soul are his.

But how did he get this good at kissing? The bitter emotion is back, and I bite his lip and pull on his piercing in retaliation. He pulls back, licking the small drop of blood forming on his lower lip with a smirk.

“Stick out your tongue,” he orders me; I like how his voice deepens when he gets horny. It makes my stomach quiver.

He grabs my tongue with his fingers, stroking it between his knuckles before letting it go to suck deeply and hungrily on it.

I tear my mouth away, breathing hard. My eyes are drowning in his incredible light ones flaring with intensity. Is this really, really happening?

“I forbid you to go to clubs and bars unless I’m with you.”

“Why?” I ask; hope glimmers inside me.

“Because trouble finds you when I’m not.” Once again, his overprotectiveness kills my stupid expectations.

“God, Uri!” I push against his chest, moving back to my seat. “So, what the hell was this?” The deep annoyance I’m feeling bursts out of me. “Your way to keep me happy? To protect me, and from what? You know what would really do that? Letting me go free!”

“Let. You. Go?” he growls the words menacingly.

If I wasn’t high as a kite, I might’ve been able to tell Uri why, but I can’t draw my thoughts together enough to figure it out.

What comes out is: “There are times I wish you’d turn your gaze away.”

I hear a cracking sound, but when I look up, I only see Uri’s hands holding the wheel.

“Never. After tonight you never leave my sight,” he hisses.

He always says things that open my heart and break it while still beating inside my chest.

The silence turns heavy as I feel tears welling in my eyes.

“Put your seatbelt on,” he orders abruptly.

I suddenly feel like my stomach is hosting…a scurry of chipmunks dancing the rumba—like Lori would say.

When I don’t oblige, he does it for me gently, calmly. I hate it—how controlled he can be while I’m feeling sick. The dancing rodents want to get out. Oh, oh, they are getting out.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” I warn him, pushing on the window button, willing it to slide down faster.

“Hold it in,” he says, unimpressed.

I make a very noncommittal sound before uttering, “Too late.”