by Eva Ashwood
I wasn’t even sure he would answer, and a little bubble of hope rises up in me at the fact that he did.
Hale sits down next to me, his knee brushing against mine as he uses one hand to tilt my chin a little. The fingertips of his other hand move softly over my neck, feeling the contours of my throat and checking for painful areas. I can feel a few sore spots, but I don’t jump or wince as he touches them.
“A little bruising,” Hale says, his voice pitched loud enough for Ciro to hear. “No swelling. Nothing too bad.” He glances over at his friend. “You held back. I’ve seen what you can do when you want to hurt someone. Even in your sleep, even in a nightmare, you didn’t want to hurt Grace.”
Ciro doesn’t respond to that. His lips press together as he swallows, then he says quietly, “Check for scratches. The back of her neck. Her shoulders.”
“Okay.” Hale moves my chin the other way, then releases it to run his fingers over the back of my neck, moving my hair out of the way. He slides them over my shoulders and along my collarbones, examining my skin as he does. “There are a few spots on her shoulders, but they’re light.”
Ciro’s hands curl into fists again, as if he wishes he could break his own fingers for hurting me. Self-recrimination fills his features as he shifts his gaze from Hale to me and back again. “Are there any other bruises? Anywhere else?”
Hale’s blue eyes find mine as his hands move down to the hem of my shirt. “May I?”
I nod, lifting my arms up to let him pull it over my head. Goose bumps scatter across my skin as I feel both men’s gazes move across my skin. I try to stay perfectly still as Hale moves his hands over my ribs and the dip of my waist, but I’m deeply conscious of the way Ciro’s gaze tracks the movement.
Hale really is his surrogate, I realize. He’s doing what Ciro wishes he could do, touching me without fear or worry.
The thought makes my heart ache a little, even as my nipples pebble at the sensation of Hale’s calloused palms sliding over my skin. He looks at the man in front of me, watching as he examines me with focus and concentration, and a sudden rush of emotion wells up inside me. There are too many feelings for me to identify each one, but tears sting my eyes again as they threaten to overwhelm me.
“Where else would you touch me, Ciro?” I murmur. My voice is quiet, but I know he hears me. “If you could. Where would you touch me? How would you touch me?”
Ciro blinks at me. He looks shocked, his gray eyes wide. When my gaze flits back to Hale, I see surprise in his eyes too.
Honestly, I’m surprised myself. I don’t know exactly where my words came from, but I know that this moment feels like a crossroads. What happens in the next few minutes will affect all of our lives. And if I let Ciro leave this room thinking that he can never touch me again, that I don’t want him to touch me, I’m sure he never will. He’s kept himself locked up so tightly for so long that if he retreats back into himself now, I don’t think he’ll ever get out.
I can’t let that happen.
I don’t know what will play out between me and the men who kidnapped me, or what my future holds. But in this moment, it doesn’t matter. I refuse to let Ciro’s demons win. I can’t fix him, I know that. But maybe I can keep him from shutting the door and locking the world out entirely.
“Hale would never hurt me, would he?” I ask, looking over at Ciro.
He shakes his head, looking at me like I’m crazy for even suggesting it.
I nod, holding his gaze as I lick my lips. “So tell Hale how you would touch me. He’ll do whatever you tell him to. And you’ll see that it doesn’t hurt.”
Hale shifts on the bed beside me, making a low noise. I glance at him, braced for him to tell me that this is insane and he’s not going to play my game. But when our eyes meet, he holds my gaze steadily, something like gratitude passing through his expression. Maybe he can see how close to the brink his friend is too. Maybe he wants to help just like I do.
For a long moment, the room is utterly quiet. Ciro is still watching the two of us, and I’m painfully aware of every heartbeat that passes as I wait to see if he’ll speak. When he finally does, his voice is raspy, as if he has to force the words past unwilling vocal chords.
“Her hand.”
Hale doesn’t hesitate. He lifts my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine. Ciro didn’t tell him what to do with it, but he doesn’t hesitate. He brings my hand to his lips and kisses each of my fingertips gently.
Little sparks dance through me as his lips meet my skin, and I do my best to keep my muscles loose and pliant. I don’t want Ciro to see me tense up and assume I’m trying to resist.
“Her wrist,” he grates out.
My nerves tingle as Hale turns my hand over, exposing the delicate skin of my wrist. He presses a kiss to it, and my chest rises as I draw in a breath and hold it. He’s put his mouth on much more intimate parts of me, but something about this small gesture hits me right in the chest.
His blue eyes meet mine as his lips leave my skin, and I can see something in them that tells me this is no longer just about Ciro. It’s about me and Hale too. Maybe even about all three of us.
As if he can’t stop himself now, Ciro tells Hale to touch my forearm, my shoulder, my neck, my ear—and each time Hale follows his friend’s directives, I shiver under his touch.
Their touch.
Ciro is the one guiding this, but Hale is the one carrying it out. And as his hands move over my body, becoming more and more greedy, I feel like I’m somehow being touched by both men.
“Her lips. Kiss her.”
There’s a crack in Ciro’s voice as he says the words, and I know that even though he’s not the one sitting next to me, he’s imagining just what my lips feel like.
Hale hesitates for just a second. Then his hand threads through my hair, palming the back of my head as he kisses me. His tongue sweeps the seam of my lips, and all three of us groan as I open to him, allowing him to take it even deeper. The bruises on my neck ache a little as my tongue clashes with Hale’s, my body straining toward his as he wraps his free arm around my waist and pulls me closer.
The reminder of what Ciro did to me, of why Hale and I are doing what we’re doing, only urges me on. I rise up onto my knees so I can face Hale more fully, taking his face between my hands as we kiss like this might be the last fucking time we get to.
“Her bra. Take off her bra,” Ciro commands, and Hale is reaching for the clasp before the words are even all the way out of his friend’s mouth. He tugs the straps down my arm and tosses my bra away. His hands cup my breasts, thumbs grazing my nipples until they’re peaked and hard beneath his touch. He clamps them between his knuckles and tugs, and Ciro lets out a tortured noise.
As Hale drops his head to lick and kiss his way down my chest, I cling to his hair, arching my back as I look over and meet Ciro’s gaze.
The man with the gorgeous tattoos and the haunted soul is standing now, still pressed against the wall but on his feet. He’s hard again, his cock thrusting against the confines of his pants just like it did earlier when I knelt before him. His entire focus is zeroed in on everywhere Hale touches me, and when I let out a needy whimper, his gaze flies to my face.
“It feels so good,” I murmur, my toes curling as my pussy clenches. “Where else do you want to touch me, Ciro? What else do you want?”
“Take her pants off.”
Ciro reaches down to squeeze his cock as he speaks, like he’s trying to ease some of the pressure building inside him. Hale growls, and a second later, his arms band around my waist. He picks me up before setting me down on my back, and as soon as my body hits the mattress, he’s moving lower, his skilled hands going to the waistband of my pants before tugging my fly open. He drags my jeans down my legs, and cool air hits the damp fabric of my panties.
Going down on Ciro turned me on, and even though I’ve slept for several hours since then, my body is still alert and needy, keyed up and hungry. My legs move restlessly on the be
d until Hale grabs my thighs and spreads them apart, opening me wide for him as he kneels between my legs. He’s gazing down at my pussy, ravenous heat in his eyes, but then he just… stops.
Still pinning my legs to the bed so he can see all of me, he waits, his fingers digging lightly into the flesh of my thighs.
“Ciro!” I gasp, shifting my hips as much as I can under Hale’s tight hold. “He won’t—until you tell him—please!”
My skin is on fire. My whole body is on fire. The slight burn in my thighs as Hale presses them wide open only makes the insistent throbbing in my clit more intense. I need more.
But Hale won’t give it to me until Ciro says the word.
Breathing hard, I cup my breasts, playing with my nipples as I turn my head to look at Ciro. His hand is working against the thick bulge in his pants even harder and faster now, and the sight of him jerking himself off like this makes my breath catch.
I have a sudden vivid memory of the night Hale made me come with his sinfully talented fingers, trying to prove a point to Zaid and to punish us both—and maybe himself too.
But that’s not what he’s doing this time.
This time, he’s giving us all what we need.
“What do you want?” My eyes burn as I stare at Ciro, willing him to let himself have this. To take what he wants for once. To trust himself. “Please. Tell me.”
He swallows. His large hand, covered in swirling ink, delves below the waistband of his pants. His eyelids droop as he squeezes himself, and then his pupils flare as he meets my gaze.
“I want you, Grace. I want to fuck you. I want to… to have you.”
“Fuck,” Hale mutters. His voice is strained, thick with lust, and I don’t know if it’s from hearing Ciro admit he wants to fuck me or from holding himself back like he has been. But it doesn’t really matter.
Ciro told us what he would do if he could touch me. And I intend to give him what he wants.
Pressing up onto my elbows, I reach for Hale’s shirt, tugging at the hem until he finally lets go of my legs long enough to let me pull it off. He’s already working on his pants, the last of his self-restraint fading as the tension between all of us reaches a boiling point. As soon as he’s naked, he hooks his hands under my knees and drags me toward him. He slides my panties off and hurls them away as his hungry gaze lands on my aching pussy.
Just like he did before, he presses my legs open. But this time, the movement is slow and deliberate, so full of promise that it makes me shiver with anticipation.
I know what he’s doing.
He’s putting me on display.
Not just for himself, but for Ciro. He’s letting Ciro see all of me.
My legs press against Hale’s hard grip as arousal seeps from me. It’s almost too much, having them both look at me like this.
Hale’s cock is hard, and he slides through my folds without entering me, teasing me until I’m squirming beneath him.
“Do you want me, Grace?” he demands in a rough voice. “Do you want Ciro?”
“Yes,” I pant, so desperate with need that I’ll beg if he wants me to. “Yes. Please. Fuck. Please!”
But Hale doesn’t make me beg. His thick cock finds my entrance, and he thrusts into me in one hard motion. I cry out, arching my back as the sudden feeling of fullness overwhelms me. As he draws out slowly, I look over at Ciro, my heart thundering in my chest.
“Let me see you too. I want to see you.”
He hesitates for a second, then unbuttons and unzips his pants, shoving them down enough to free his cock. He wraps his hand around his shaft again, and the sight of him fucking his fist while Hale fucks me makes me whimper with pleasure.
They match each other’s strokes perfectly, falling into sync as if they really are the same person. My breasts bounce with each hard thrust as Hale drives into me, and the low grunts that emanate from both him and Ciro are the hottest sounds I think I’ve ever heard.
“Turn her over,” Ciro finally orders as an orgasm builds low in my belly. He locks gazes with me, issuing the command to me too. “On your hands and knees.”
Hale doesn’t miss a beat, pulling out of me and grabbing my hips as I scramble to comply. I’ve barely gotten my arms and legs under me before he yanks me backward, impaling me on his cock again. His hips slap against mine as he picks up his pace, and I turn my head, panting as I watch Ciro stroke himself hard and fast.
“Come, Ciro,” I whisper, my words broken up by the sharp movement of Hale’s thrusts. “Come with me. It feels so fucking good.”
I can barely get any breath behind my words, so I don’t know if he hears me or not. But maybe he doesn’t need to. With a loud grunt, he comes all over his hand, and the sight of it pushes me over the edge. I clench hard around Hale as the orgasm rips through me, and like the last domino falling, he drives into me and spills his release.
Hale and I collapse forward a little from the force of his last thrust, and he grinds his hips against my ass as his cock twitches inside me. My whole body is shaking as if a dam has just broken inside me, flooding my veins with adrenaline. A light sheen of sweat covers my body, and if my throat still hurts, I can’t feel it anymore. I can’t feel anything except the lingering waves of pleasure from my orgasm and Hale’s warm body draped over mine.
With a groan, he pulls out of me and collapses on the mattress beside me, one arm reaching out to pull me close. I let him draw me toward him, looking across the empty space of the room to where Ciro sags against the wall. He looks utterly spent, like that orgasm dragged out a piece of his soul, and he’s still fisting his dick with wet, sticky fingers.
He meets my gaze, and for just a moment, I don’t think I see the self-recrimination that clouded his eyes earlier. He looks almost peaceful.
Unwrapping his hand from his dick, he presses away from the wall. There’s a box of tissues on the nightstand by the bed, and I watch as he slowly walks over and grabs a few to clean himself up. He tosses them in the trash can, then looks down at me and Hale sprawled on the bed.
I want to ask him to join us. I want to curl up between their two warm bodies and fall asleep.
But I’m afraid if I say that, I’ll break the moment. So I just lift my hand toward him, a silent offer.
He steps a little closer and takes it, threading his fingers through mine. He doesn’t crawl onto the bed beside us, but he bends down and lifts my hand to his lips, kissing each of my fingertips.
Just like Hale did earlier.
It was the first thing Hale did before building up to so much more.
And I can’t help but hope it’s a first step.
9
Grace
Hale and Ciro were both in the room when I fell asleep, but neither man is still there when I wake up.
As I blink my eyes open, my brows pull together.
Carefully arrayed on the nightstand are a variety of cough drops, throat soothing teas, painkillers, and a cream to treat bruises. My chest tightens a little, and I swallow, noticing the slight ache in my neck as I do.
I doubt any of these men keep tea in the house, which means that sometime between last night and this morning, Ciro went out and got all of this stuff before leaving it here for me. If I were trying to convince myself to hate these men, I might argue that his sweet gesture doesn’t count—he’s only trying to fix what he broke.
But he didn’t break me.
I’m not that fucking breakable.
I’m not sure he’ll ever see it that way though, or ever stop blaming himself for the demons that haunt him.
How can one of the sweetest men I’ve ever known also be one of the most terrifyingly violent? It’s hard to reconcile the two halves of who Ciro is, and I worry that he doesn’t even see the good side of himself anymore. The self-loathing on his face last night broke my heart. The way he wouldn’t even touch me…
But he did touch me. After Hale made me come, after the three of us shared that moment, he let himself reach out for me, just once. I
hope like hell that means he hasn’t given up on himself entirely.
My body is sore in other places as I get out of bed and pad to the bathroom to shower. My skin is a patchwork of scrapes and bruises and healing wounds, and as I gaze at myself in the bathroom mirror, I realize I look like I’ve been through a war.
Except the war isn’t over. It’s still raging.
And I need to be a better soldier.
I need to protect my heart.
Every time I think I know where I stand with these men, something happens that knocks me completely off balance again. No matter how hard I try to keep my heart closed off, each of them seems to have found the cracks in my armor.
I spend most of the day in my room, slipping downstairs only to grab food and make tea. I eat dinner with the men, and although Hale’s penetrating gaze practically burns a hole in my skin, I avoid meeting his eyes. Ciro, in turn, avoids looking at me, and Zaid and Lucas watch all three of us with curious gazes.
I do my best to keep my distance from all four of them for the next few days, although I find that I miss them in a strange way. I’m tempted to go looking for the twins or find Hale in his office, but I hold myself back.
Because now I really don’t know where I stand. With any of them.
I’m not sure if Zaid and Lucas know what happened between me, Ciro, and Hale. Would Hale or Ciro tell them? Ciro, certainly not, but that’s just because he’s not the type to talk more than he has to. But Hale might’ve told them. Or they might’ve guessed.
I’m tempted to seek out Ciro too, but out of all the men, he’s the one I feel least able to approach. There’s a connection between us that I can’t deny, but despite that small moment of contact between us while I lay on the bed beside Hale, I can feel how desperately Ciro wants to keep me at arm’s length.
I was being honest when I told him I’m not afraid of him, but I don’t know if that matters to him. The bruises on my neck take a few days to fade into nothing more than small greenish shadows, and I can practically feel the self-hatred and regret pouring from him every time he glances at them.
