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I remove my cell from my pocket and pull up the location that I need. Everyone here at Carnage has a tracking device—even us brothers. Everyone else’s is so no one can hide from us. Ours is for our protection.
We’re Lords, but we’re not untouchable. We’re what you would consider the outcasts of our secret society. The only reason they haven’t killed us off is because they need us. No one else would want to run Carnage. That’s why they invented the Spade brothers centuries ago. The Lords are known for killing those who wrong them or go against their oath. But death is too easy and sometimes a Lord goes too far. He deserves more than a knife in his neck with a shallow grave. And that’s where we come in.
“Morgue,” I say, and my teeth grind. Every time I’m down there, I’m reminded that Ashtyn almost succeeded in getting away from me. I mean, I can overlook her shooting me. A part of me gets hard just thinking about the fact she had the balls to do it. But leaving me? She’ll pay for that. And no matter how much I love her, I can’t overlook or forget what we went through after she escaped.
Haidyn doesn’t speak. He just shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and leans back against the wall, staring straight ahead. I’m not even sure he’s breathing.
I send a quick text and pocket my cell.
The elevator comes to a stop, and we step off. I don’t even feel the coldness down here anymore. I’m used to it. Haidyn follows me, and I round the corner. Voices echo from down the hall.
“Yeah, man. A fight broke out,” a familiar voice lies.
“What the fuck did you do?” another asks.
“I taught him a fucking lesson.”
Haidyn grunts, letting me know what I already do. We round the corner, and I come up behind a man who has his back toward us. The one standing across from him spots us. Swallowing nervously, he takes a step back. “I need to go…” He turns and runs.
“What the hell, man?” the guy in front of us calls out. “I need your help. I can’t wrap this myself.”
“We can help,” I say.
The man spins around, and his eyes widen. I punch him in the side of the face, knocking his ass out before he can even speak.
FORTY-TWO
ASHTYN
My throat is numb, my body aches, and I’m crying as I watch myself in the mirror with heavy eyes and drool running from my lips. I’m a very competitive person, and the fucker knows that. I know Saint. He thinks I can’t do this. And I’m going to suck this dick like I’m a man on center stage for a fucking hot dog eating contest on the Fourth of July, dammit. I’m determined to win no matter what it takes. Even if I can’t swallow after this damn numbing spray wears off.
The mirror is covered in spit, and my nipples are hard. I’m so wet between my thighs, and not just because I’m drooling all over myself.
I’m horny as fuck. I’ve always had a thing for sucking dick. I loved the way Saint would moan and groan. How he’d grab the back of my head and fuck my face. It turned me on. I craved that sort of attention. I especially loved it when he had me do it in front of an audience. As if he was proud to show off what I could do…how I could please him.
I’ve slept with countless guys since I escaped Carnage, but none were like Saint. They never even came close. They say you never get over your first love, and I can’t argue with that.
Closing my eyes, I part my lips as wide as I can and push my face forward. Not only is my tongue and throat numb but so are my lips. The spray had been on my tongue when I licked them. My nose runs, and my eyes are bloodshot and watering.
And since he connected the short chain, I can’t remove my lips from the dildo, so my mouth is always open. My hips rock the best they can to create friction on my pussy from the rope wrapped around me. He tied my thighs with the belts on purpose. They restrict the movement of my legs for this very reason. He wants me to torture myself. It prevents me from being able to move around.
I’m dripping wet and need to come so bad. I love pleasuring Saint. And the fact I’m pretending to suck his cock makes it unbearable. A part of me hopes that he comes back here and tests me. Makes me show him just how good I can be.
I try to see just how far I can go and push my face forward. I can’t feel it, but there’s pressure as I breathe through my runny nose. I unlace my fingers only to lace them again. That’s the slight amount of movement the rope allows. They’re sweaty, and so are my tied legs. My lashes are stuck together, and I pull back as much as I can only to shove my face forward, watching myself. It just turns me on more. I want Saint to tell me how pretty I look. He loved it when I’d get all ready for him only to let him smear my makeup.
SAINT
I lean backagainst the counter, and Haidyn stands next to me, watching the cameras in his room, checking on the woman he’s got tied up and waiting for him.
The door opens and in walks Devin. “Just in time,” I say.
He pushes in his cart and nods to me. Devin doesn’t say much. He doesn’t have to as long as he does his job.
The man sitting in the middle of the room stirs, and Haidyn locks his cell, putting it away. We’ve got him strapped in what we call the high chair. It looks exactly how it sounds. Just an adult version. His ankles are secured to the metal bars that run horizontal across the bottom. There’s a tabletop to it that is latched on each side, securing him into it. And his arms are strapped down to the top of it.
“W-what…?” The guy opens his swollen eye. “What the fuck?” He tries to move, but the metal collar I’ve secured around his neck has a short chain connected to the chair’s high back.
“I heard you were in a fight,” I speak.
