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Facts. Arrow does not skimp in the orgasm department. The man has a wicked tongue and an even more wicked dick. I swear, when he said he wanted to live inside me, he fucking meant it.
“I mean, yeah. But still, he’s mean,” Arrow pouts, pointing at Jericho, who rolls his eyes.
“I can be meaner,” Jericho huffs, standing tall. “But remember, if anything goes south tonight, we rendezvous at the cabin.”
No doubt about that. Jericho is a Jerk—Jerkicho.
“Go wrong? You think something is going to happen?” I question, eyeing the crowd. “Isn’t this all your family? Aren’t they packing?”
Arrow snorts. “Packing. I’m definitely packing,” he hums, wiggling his brows as his eyes dart to his crotch.
“Yes. You may be packing your dick, Arrow. But I’ve come prepared,” Jericho says, hinting under his suit jacket.
“Daddy Jer always comes prepared with guns and back up plans. I have my rocket launcher in the coat room,” Arrow says with a grin.
I stiffen. “You brought a rocket launcher? And in the coat room?” How the hell did no one put a flag on that weapon?
“Maybe,” Arrow hums, shrugging playfully. “You never know when you need to be packing big heat to blow up a room. Besides, you should see what cousin Marv put in there.” He whistles under his breath and raises a glass to a man across the room with a grin.
“Right,” I say, shaking my head. “What about me? Don’t I deserve a weapon?” It’d come in handy right about now. I’m surrounded by their family and my damn monster.
“All in due time, Little Chaos. If I handed you a weapon now, you’d probably shoot our dicks off and flee,” Jericho quips, sipping his drink.
Well, they know me so well. “So, rude of you to assume I’d shoot your dick. I’d aim straight for the heart.” My grin grows when his eyes shoot to mine.
“Point made,” he says, shivering.
“Don’t worry, Kitten,” Arrow whispers directly into my ear. “I’ve got a weapon with your name on it. Literally. Have you seen my dick?”
I blink several times. “I’m not answering that,” I mutter.
Shepp stands silently at my back. The only reason I know he’s there is when his large fingers wrap around my waist and he gently squeezes three times. I’m not sure what he’s trying to tell me. Maybe he’ll protect me from them both? Or that he’s always got my back? My hand finds his, and I squeeze back with assurance.
“So, what happens during this shindig?” I ask, attempting to change the conversation.
“Well soon, my father will come to us and request our presence on stage. We’ll parade around like we’re in the circus and showcase the wounds he left on our chests. They’ll clap. We’ll give our thanks and allegiance to the family, once again. My father will announce our marriage contract and set a date for our wedding. Then, we’ll all sit down to a nice dinner of steak, potatoes, and shrimp. This entire thing will wrap up by midnight, then we’ll go home and fuck until the sun comes up,” Jericho says smoothly with a smirk pulling at his lips.
“Delightful,” I grumble. “But what happens if he finds out we’re already married?”
“I’m not worried,” Jericho says, sliding his hand into mine and interlocking our fingers. “He gave me permission to pursue you before this. In fact, he encouraged me to bring you here tonight. I’m not quite sure what he has up his sleeve.” He shakes his head with crinkled brows.
“We’re eagerly awaiting,” Arrow says with a grin. “If he makes a wrong move, then I cut him.” He makes a slicing motion across his throat and then pats his chest. “I brought one of my best silent weapons.” He wiggles his brows, quickly exposing a large knife hidden at his side.
“Could you please be any more obvious with your plans?” Jericho quips just as Shepp slaps Arrow in the back of the head.
“Ouch. Dicks,” he grumbles, rubbing his skull. “No need for violence.”
“Speak for yourself,” Jericho says, shaking his head. “Just keep your eyes and ears open. Something doesn’t feel right tonight.”
“You can say that again,” Arrow mumbles. “Feels…”
“Off?” Jericho asks, finishing his sentence.
“Exactly. Just look at him, making his rounds with that fake smile.”
The taste of bitter wine rests on my taste buds when I examine the man in question. There he is in all his evil glory, tugging along a hazy-eyed woman and greeting people left and right.
Gabriel Viotto.
