Breaker (Unmasked #3)

38. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Delilah

C ora was taken six days ago. I tell myself over and over that Breaker is with her, at least in some capacity, and he’ll keep her safe, but it feels empty.

From the reports he’s been sending the men all week, which they’ve relayed to me, he’s having to use their old surveillance system to keep an eye on her which I was informed consisted of cameras outside our homes, the office, and the parking garages at our condo’s.

That conversation has yet to happen. About how long they watched us. I think part of me doesn’t want to know. It would mean that everything I’ve done since their brother was murdered—my short lived marriage, filing for divorce, my pathetic nights spent alone at my condo crying over Dave who never deserved me—was all cataloged and witnessed.

I knew, in an abstract way they kept an eye on us so they could take us, but the reality is unsettling.

As is the fact I slept with them.

And want to again.

It doesn’t help they are avoiding me, only communicating during practice, then leaving me alone in the evenings and at night. Like we didn’t share some primal claiming of flesh a week ago. Viper’s refusal, and Striker’s obvious irritation hurts, but it’s Reaper’s blatant avoidance of me that claws at my ego. I know I was the one who told him not to touch me again, but the fact he’s listening grates on my nerves.

In the last week, Reaper and I have been in the same space a total of five times. Once in his room. The second my first day of target practice. The third and fourth when they had me lifting weights, and the fifth was just a few days ago when I stabbed Viper in the balls.

Other than that, nothing.

And that nothing, I find, is lonely.

I turn the shower off and grab the towel, drying quickly, then wrapping it around myself as I step from the bathroom. The fire in the hearth blazes, and the radiator pops and fizzes.

Striker.

I’m pretty sure it’s him coming into my room to light the fire and turn up the radiator while I’m downstairs with Viper training after our morning lesson. Although today we didn’t practice, so I’m not sure when he had the time to light the fire.

Instead of taking me to the range, he left to shower saying I had the morning off. After waiting in the large empty room near the back of the house for Viper, who never showed, I figured they have given up on me, and wandered around the mansion, opening doors.

Most of the doors remain locked, but a few were open, revealing empty rooms, or ones stuffed with old furniture covered in white sheets. After I explored enough I wandered to the kitchen and ate the food left out for me, wondering when they’re going to talk to me about why they are training me, and what exactly I’m training for. When none of them appeared, I went back up to my room to shower.

I know they’re giving me space, and maybe I need it, but it feels like we’ve returned to the time before that night in the library but this time I’m utterly alone. And I don’t know how to turn my mind off.

I keep picturing Cora being hurt, then my mind fills with the images of her getting fucked so beautifully right next to me and I don’t understand why not even Striker is coming to me at night. Everything with him, them, is strict. I don’t get any more kisses from Striker. It’s like Cora took his softness when she was sent away. Viper hasn’t said a word to me about the time in his room. Reaper…

The man oozes sexual tension but other than a few comments, he’s like a personal trainer instead of…

Whatever he is to me. Whatever they are to me.

To us. Cora and I.

I miss Cora. Her even breathing as I sleep, or how she’d roll over in the night seeking me out for warmth and comfort. I’m also worried sick.

She was hurt so much, right under my nose and no one knew. What will happen to her now there’s no one to protect her? Breaker can only do so much without actually stealing her away again and since they seem to be waiting to act until I’m ready for my part in this, he’s just a shadow.

Clyde I know would do his best, but Rune…

I sit at the end of the bed, then lie back, pressing the backs of my hands to my eyes. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Tears will do her no good. I just need to focus. They want me training so it’s obvious when they send me back they want me to be able to defend myself. Reaper told me I had to be prepared.

The wooden floorboards outside my door groan, cutting off all thoughts. I sit upright, gripping the towel to my chest, heart thundering. The floor creaks again, and goose bumps rise on my arms. This old house settles every time the wind blows too hard, but I know the sound of footsteps.

My eyes drop to the doorknob. It twists slowly. My stomach knots as I watch the knob turn. The door swings open slow enough that my heart hammers in anticipation. Light from the hallway window behind him frames his body in pale light. Black pants, no shirt, his mask over his face.

No shirt .

My stomach does a little flip, excitement and anxiousness making me realize I get aroused and a little scared every time they appear because I never know what I’m going to get.

Striker pauses mid-stride when he sees me on the bed, the towel clutched to my chest.

“Why are you wearing your mask?” I ask, panic zipping through me, my heart racing for an entirely different reason. He’s only put it back on when his father appeared. “Is he back?”

Striker shakes his head and I notice the black rope draped over his bare shoulders. I open my mouth to ask why he has rope, but then Viper walks into the room.

Shirtless.

My gasp is audible.

Viper’s a large man, a wall of muscle and power. I’ve seen the perfect cut of his lower abs, that lickable V that leads to is dick. His thick forearms. But seeing him shirtless is like looking upon a work of art.

“What are you doing?” I pant, out of breath at just the sight of him. I shift to sit on my knees, eating up every muscle and shadowed curve of his chest. He’s smooth everywhere but for a light patch of hair on his pecs, slightly bronze in color. Almost gold in the late morning light streaming in through the windows. A light dusting of freckles scatters his fair-skinned broad shoulders and muscled forearms. He has the same sketch- like tattoo of five black skulls on his chest that Striker and Reaper have, the fifth one with crossed off with a slash.

The loss of their brother, I realize. My breath heaves from my lungs remembering the carvings in Reaper’s room. The one on Striker’s dresser.

He was their family. Like Cora is to me. That same heart-wrenching feeling I had when I found out Rune was hurting her makes tears sting my eyes.

“Princess,” Striker says, his tone talking that soft, mildly concerned ring he gets when he knows I’m overwhelmed, and my eyes dart to him, but snag on the rope. Viper shifts next to him, and I catch sight of the black, silky material he used to blindfold me in the dining room in his large hand.

They were coming to me.

For me.

My heart skips, the reality that they were coming for me with the intention of tying me up and doing who knows what with me, making me dizzy.

Looks like you got what you wanted.

“Where’s Reaper?” I breathe, the thought of being with them again waking up that dark, primitive thing inside me.

Striker’s thumb skates over my lip. Sparks ignite under where his flesh meets mine. “He’ll come when he’s ready, pretty girl.”

If I try to name this hollow feeling in my chest, I know it would be disappointment. He’s avoiding me. My anger toward him maybe wasn’t as justified as it felt, but his utter refusal to spend time with me hurts.

“Come here, Sweetheart. Look at our girl.” Viper pulls a black phone from his pocket and turns the screen toward me. My gaze settles on the screen. That ache in my chest breaks, and tears spring to my eyes.

Our girl.

She’s mine and theirs.

And she’s okay.

“Breaker sent this picture this morning,” Striker says, tucking a damp strand of hair behind my ear as I lean in to look closely at the image.

She’s so beautiful, framed in gold light, hair blazing with fire highlights, splayed out on a creamy pillow case. The corner of her mouth is lifted in a grin, and she looks content. Her eyes look a little haunted but she’s okay.

She’s okay.

“She’s with him?” I ask as Viper tucks his phone away. “How?”

The two men exchange a look then Striker says, “Things have been set into motion.”

“What does that mean?” I ask moving to a kneeling position on the bed, gripping the towel over my breasts with a clenched fist. Hope springs to life in my chest. “Does that mean I’ll go back soon?”

The two men glance at each other.

“I’ve been doing what you’ve asked,” I point out. “I’m training for whatever it is you want. I’ve been—“ I was about to say a good girl, but I stop myself.

My head is completely fucked.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Viper coos. “You have been a good girl haven’t you?” Viper drops the material on the bed next to me as he drags a finger along my jawline. “Our girl has listened to everything we’ve said and been working so hard.”

My cheeks heat, knowing he’s not just referring to this past week of practice but also to the day in his room.

“She has been,” Striker says, taking a step closer to both me and Viper at his side. They are so different from each other. Striker’s muscled yet tall and slightly leaner, with warmly tanned skin where Viper is so fair, with light freckles and he’s just fucking huge, stocky and cut like a wrestler. “We’ve been so focused on your training, Princess, we’ve neglected you, haven’t we?”

Viper inches even closer, so their arms brush. My gaze snags on the way they’re touching, remembering how the last time we were together, Viper jerked Striker off while Cora was on her knees before him. The memory creates a slick heat between my thighs.

Striker’s velvety voice cracks though my thoughts. “I think our Princess needs some attention.”

“Have you missed us?” Viper asks, thumb hooking in a belt loop. The outline of his dick trapped in his pants is obvious and so tight it looks uncomfortable. Like he can read my thoughts, or the fact I’m staring has him gripping the waistband of his fatigues. He pulls them away from his body, abs rippling as he slides a hand in his pants and repositions his hard length. I don’t bother looking away.

In fact, I feel a smirk forming.

“I think the way she’s fucking you with her eyes says she’s missed us,” Striker says making my eyes drag up to his. The gold color flares with fiery heat, and something else, something slightly darker like that night in the club when they were there to claim us before they even took us.

My gaze drops to his hand as he grips the waistband of his pants. My pussy clenches. He backs way. Pops the button. “Lie down. Feet on the edge.”

The shift from his warm tone to this hard command sends electric through my blood. It’s suddenly too hard to breathe. His zipper grates down.

“Come on mo leannan, lie back.“ Viper grips his pants and slowly, teasingly, he undoes the button, hand pausing when it comes to his zipper. Like he’s waiting for me to listen before continuing.

I sit down, inching forward, then place my feet on the edge of the bed, as I lean back. The towel falls between my thighs, covering me. I let my legs fall open slightly watching as Viper frees himself. If I listen I get rewarded. And I want them so bad, I’ve wanted them again so much, that craving knitted up so tight in my belly, that I lean back on both elbows, feeling the towel loosen slightly over my breasts.

Striker steps up next to him and my lungs deflate as I watch him free his hard cock. He strokes himself, slowly, lewdly, putting on a show for me.

They both are.

Stroking themselves for me.

Striker’s long fingers touch my knee. My eyes flicker up to his masked face. “Open for me. Let us see.”

My legs fall open easily, before he’s even finished talking. Striker pulls the towel aside, tugging until it falls open completely.

The groan Viper emits makes me want to please them. I take my lower lip between my teeth, watching him look at me, then my gaze drops lower as he takes a long stroke down his thick cock. He’s so hard, pre-cum glistens on his slit. Every single fiber in my being wants to sit up, and lick that fat head, lap the salty, earthy drop from him.

My gaze shifts to Striker, his thick delicious cock is leaking for me.

They both are.

The feeling is heady. These two powerful men, desperate for me.

Like he can feel the need blooming inside me, Viper pushes my knee down , opening my legs wider. My cheeks flame from how exposed I am, but desire ticks up, growing hotter with the way his eyes drift over my naked flesh.

“You want these cocks, Princess?” Striker asks, matching Vipers rough strokes. As his hand slides up, Viper’s does as well, and when they reach the tips they both roll their palms over the head, gathering pre-cum and using it coat their length.

My pussy throbs at the sight, and that deep, dark need rushes to the surface of my skin, heating it.

“What do you want, Princess?” Striker says, his voice throaty with desire.

Them. Striker, Viper. I want Reaper here too.

How did this even happen? How have I let it?

“ Shhhh ,“ Striker whispers. “You’re getting caught in your head, Princess.”

Viper moves in closer, his hot, slick tip hitting the inside of my leg. “You want this cock, mo leannan ? Show me where you want it.”

My pussy throbs and they both look down to the space between my thighs. I spent a week wanting them, and they’re forcing me to admit it. That dark, needy place they carved out for them aches to be touched. To feel their whispered worships against my skin. To have them again, like before, filling me up their promises, their attention, and their desire so that I don’t feel empty.

Because that’s what they have given me. Everything I’ve ever wanted. My father protected me to the point of drowning me in his power. I wasn’t touched unless Rune approved. I’ve craved this type of attention, this type of desire and I’m getting it from them, right now.

I prop myself on one elbow, and my other hand moves lower, that desire for them growing hotter and hotter as they both focus on my hand. I place a finger delicately on my clit.

“So pretty,” Viper says, tugging along his shaft. “Is that were you ache?”

I bite my lip. Striker, groans as I circle the nub. I nod.

“Show us how to make it feel better.”

I squeeze my eyes closed. I’ve never touched myself in front of anyone, but with the way they’re looking at me, I feel like a goddess, so I widen my legs and circle my clit, dipping my finger to my opening to gather wetness.

“Fuck,” Striker hisses. “Again.”

I repeat the movement. It’s almost obscene, how wet I am. I can feel it dripping down to my ass crack and all I’m doing is watching them stroke themselves.

“What do you think about when you touch that pretty clit?” Viper asks, giving his dick a harsh stroke.

“You,” I say, because I do. “All of you.”

“Naughty thing,” Striker grates. “You play with your little clit and thing about us?”

“Yes,” I say, feeling braver. Powerful under their wolfish eyes.

“Us doing what?” Viper asks. “With our fingers or our mouths?”

My answer leaves in an exhale. “Both.”

“Eating your pussy?”

I nod

“Fingering you?”

I add another finger, using two to circle my clit as I add more pressure.

“Do you think about us fucking you?” Striker asks.

“All the time.”

“Filthy girl,” Viper says, approvingly. “In your ass or pussy?”

My eyes lock with his. “Both.”

I swear he’s smiling.

“You want my cock in your ass?” Viper says and it sounds so crass when he says it with a witness that my stomach dips. I’m grateful he’s never said anything and right now it feels like our dirty little secret. How I begged him. And instead of teasing me, which is what I’d expect him to do, he’s bringing it up as a question. Maybe he knew how desperate I was, not just physically but emotionally. “You want me fucking your tight ass, while Striker fucks your pretty cunt?”

The image that sentence forms sends a rush of wetness between my legs. The ache grows.

“Come here,” Striker says, gripping my hand on my pussy and pulling me upright. “You’re going to get everything you want, but if I don’t get your mouth on me right now, I’d going to fucking die.”

My knees hit the cold hardwood floor. He doesn’t have to ask or command. With lips already parted, my tongue out, waiting, Striker guides his cock to my open mouth and slips in. Salt and musk and him. My groan verges on animalistic as I look up at his masked face, my skin flushing with heat. His head falls back, and he groans. Viper pumps himself harder, his free hand into Striker’s pants and gripping his ass. The sight just sends me higher.

I grasp Striker and pump him hard as I suck and lick and fist Viper’s thick cock in my other hand. I let Striker’s cock pop from my mouth and lean over to take Viper. Both men shift, angling their hips. Strikers cock hits the corner of my mouth and I let Viper go to pay attention to him. When I release him, both hard lengths slick with my saliva slip over one another, and the sights so erotic, so perfect, that I keep the heads of their cocks pressed together as I pump, taking a long, slow licks over both of them. There’s no way I can get them both in my mouth, but I desperately want to. Take them both into me and feel them moving.

“Fuck,” Viper says. “If you keep that up, I’m going to come too soon, Sweetheart.”

Striker backs away and pulls his mask off.

My heart tumbles in my chest. He’s so incredibly beautiful.

He sits on the edge of the bed, then lies back, feet planted on the floor as he pulls me to him. I climb up, already leaning down to take his mouth, straddling his hips. I delve my tongue into his hot mouth, not even giving him the chance to order me but he taps my ass and says, “Not yet, greedy girl.” He grins as I back away, tapping his bottom lip. “I want you on my cock, Princess, but first you’re going to sit here.”

My brows knit. I open my mouth to ask how I’m supposed to do that when it hits me.

His face.

He wants me to sit on his face.