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“So?”
“These are designer. My mom begged Dad to buy her a set of these.” Eli turns the plate over.
“You mean, your mom who’s marrying the mobster trying to blackmail our favorite teacher into prostituting herself?”
“To be fair,” Gabriel points out. “You’re marrying the mobster, too.”
I grab a plate from the top of the stack and heave it at the wall. It breaks into three pieces, the shards dropping into the garden of broken dreams. My arm flexes. The vise around my heart loosens a crack.
Eli looks at me like I’m mad.
Noah picks up a sledgehammer and gives it a test swing. “How come you never told me about this place?”
“You didn’t need an outlet for your rage, because you poured it into me,” I answer back. He nods. He understands. Noah and I, we’re the same. I haven’t needed this room since I met him, but we’re not here for me.
We’re here because Eli has never truly let go of his sense of responsibility, that he alone carries the burden for the sins of the world.
Eli tries to hand the plates back to me, but I whip my fingers away and they slip from his arms, shattering on the floor in a cascade of tiny white shards. The sound echoes in the vast room.
Eli leaps back, his hand on his heart. He looks to me, his eyes wide, as if asking if he’s in trouble for breaking the rules. I toss my hair and laugh as I hand him another stack of plates. These ones are plain white, edged in gold trim.
He tosses them at the wall, one by one.
CRASH. CRASH. CRASH.
Such a satisfying sound.
I hand him a sledgehammer. His eyes widen again, but this time he doesn’t ask permission. He swings it back over his shoulder and brings it down on an old chair. Wood splinters fly everywhere. Eli lets out a whoop, and pitches himself at the chair, hammering it until it’s nothing but a pile of sawdust. Noah drags over a large oriental cabinet, and the pair of them attack it.
Gabriel tugs his phone out of his pocket. I’m about to tell him not to record in here, but then I see him tap the speaker. A brutal death metal song shreds the air, and my fallen angel leaps into the fray, his long hair flying around his face as he jumps on the debris. He picks up an old computer and hurls it at the wall.
We pound and smash and pummel the room until the shards become a fine powder that covers our clothes and irritates our eyes. We’re coated in a snow-drift of our own destruction. My shoulders ache and the bullet wound in my chest dances with fire, but the pain mingles with a hungry ache low in my belly.
I pull my boys to me, kissing their cheeks, tasting the salty sweat sheening their skin. The ache blooms outward, tugging at my clit.
“The gym.” I want them now. I need them now. Three flights of stairs to the bedrooms is too much.
Noah’s eyes darken with lust. He throws an arm around me and tosses me over his shoulder like I’m light as a feather. As he jogs toward the gym, he slaps my ass. The sting of it draws a deep moan from my throat.
“You like that?” Noah slaps the other cheek. He’s not gentle, and I love it.
We reach the gym. He flings me down, whipping my body around and planting my hands against a padded weight bench. He tears off my shirt. Buttons bounce off the wall. “Take off your jeans and bra,” Noah barks.
Holy fuck, he’s getting into this. My body tenses, flush and shaking with anticipation. I reach around behind me and unhook the bra, letting my tits bounce free. I hook my fingers in my waistline and shove down my jeans and panties, kicking them aside and glaring up at Noah, daring him to make the next move. Eli and Gabriel crowd around, and I watch their faces as their eyes caress my body, seeking out every corner of me, making me feel powerful and desired. I revel in the power for a moment as they silently walk around me, taking in my body. A smile plays across my lips.
"Bend over." Noah breaks the silence.
"It’s going to be like that, is it?" I tease him, even as my heart thuds against my chest.
“It is. Bend over, or I’ll make you.”
As much as I want to test him, I want to know what he’s planning more. I lean over the bench. Noah grabs a couple of resistance bands and ties my hands to a steel frame in front of my head. The ropes bite my skin in the most delicious way.
“Bloody hell,” Gabriel’s voice cuts in. He points to a roll-down rack on the wall. At first glance, I think it’s covered with gym gear, but my eyes widen as I see handcuffs and whips and harnesses and all sorts of kinky toys. “Look at this. I accidentally kicked it open and discovered a pirate’s booty. It looks like the Malloys used this room for more than just beasting it up. There are lots of toys we can play with.”
Gabriel holds up an enormous pink dildo.
“Not that.” I shake my head. “I don’t want anything touching me that might’ve been inside Howard Malloy.”
