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ERIC
Archer is trying his best not to give in completely to Genevieve, despite his words to her the night before, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Out of all of us, Archer is the only one who hasn’t said fuck it and thrown himself into the lust, though we’re pretty sure there was a little something-something going on in the car before. Now, I’m simply amused by Archer’s attempt at never being alone with Genevieve long enough for her to seduce him just by walking by.
He’s weak, but I don’t blame him. We are all weak against those baby blues.
“Hey, Archer! What are you working on?” I ask, leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup of tea in my hands. Genevieve is watching TV with Booker, some kind of cartoon that Americans love. I haven’t taken the time to watch it with him yet, but Genevieve didn’t hesitate to plop that sweet ass down and watch it with him, happily laughing alongside him. At my question to Archer, she glances over her shoulder, and I wink at her. She immediately grins, understanding what I’m doing.
I watch as she leans over and whispers something to Booker. He snorts in amusement and pauses the show. It seems we are all in on scheming to get our leader laid, but not just with anyone.
With her.
Our trophy.
Our Genevieve, our missing piece.
Standing, Booker announces, “I’m going upstairs to do my washing.”
Archer frowns. “You already did that.”
“I got it all dirty,” Booker argues. “I never folded it and dragged mud in. I stomped my feet off before I realised it was in the pile of clothes.”
Archer’s frown deepens. “That sounds—”
“See you later!” Booker says cheerfully and kisses Genevieve on the cheek before disappearing upstairs.
“What are you working on?” I ask Archer again as Genevieve comes over to move around the kitchen.
His eyes follow her before he clears his throat. “Watching for news about the theft. So far, there’s only been a report with the police, but they have no leads. Apparently, Genevieve was right—he didn’t even have the security cameras on outside the house.”
She grins at the praise. “He’s an idiot. One night, he declared that we could do whatever we wanted because no one would ever know, not even the cameras.” She shrugs. “He didn’t want evidence of what they get up to at the parties.”
“Idiot indeed.”
There’s the tension. I grin as Archer and Genevieve’s eyes lock and linger. I know Archer is imagining bending her over this counter just like I am. Fuck, I’d like to see that. The two would probably tangle in a fiery heat of dominance. Which one would win? Would Genevieve cave?
When the look drags on, I say loudly, “Why don’t you two just fuck already?”
Genevieve flushes, but her face doesn’t heat because she’s embarrassed. It’s because she wants exactly that.
Archer chokes at my words, swinging his head around to glare at me while I just grin at him.
“What? Don’t look at me like that,” I tell him. “I know you’re thinking of stripping her right here and laying her out on this table like a feast. You’re probably hard just imagining thrusting inside that wet cunt.” I wink at Genevieve. “Tell him how wet you are for him, beautiful.”
She plays along immediately, just like I knew she would. After all, she was made for us, all of us, and she wants every single one of us. Running her hand down her chest and her stomach, she strokes herself through the soft pyjama shorts she wears. “So wet,” she purrs.
It’s Archer’s turn to flush, his eyes on Genevieve as if I’m not even here. I walk over to Genevieve and take up a spot behind her, raising my brows at Archer. With our eyes locked, I run my hands beneath Genevieve’s shirt and cup her breasts, revealing skin to Archer’s eyes as I knead her flesh and make her moan.
“You know you want to,” I mock before scraping my teeth along her neck, encouraging her to bare it to me. I know he will need the push, always so worried about being in control and protecting us, but he can’t protect our hearts from her when they already belong to her. He needs to realise surrendering to her, to his need for her, isn’t a weakness.
It will only make us stronger.
A united front.
Genevieve, the good girl that she is, keeps her eyes on Archer as she moans and strokes herself through her shorts. We both tease Archer until he’s shifting on his chair, his eyes pained and his lip caught in his teeth.
“What’s the matter, Archer?” Genevieve goads. “Scared of a little pussy?”
Archer stands, warring with the decision to leave or stay. Our cool and collected leader is suddenly so frazzled, he doesn’t know what to do.
And just like that, with Archer’s eyes focused completely on my beautiful, wanton Genevieve, I take a step back, leaving her to the wolf.
Let him eat her.
Let him realise that she’s not the lamb he thinks she is.
Genevieve is a fucking wolf too, and she’ll swallow him whole before he knows what’s happened.
