Page 68 of Captive

Royal smirks and nudges Hawthorne, saying, “See? I told you she’d love it.”

“You did,” Hawthorne relents. “It seems you’re not the only one in the house with the sense of humor of a twelve-year-old boy.” When he says that, I have to giggle.

Hey, there’s nothing wrong with finding dicks funny. Especially when they’re just hanging there. Crude humor is the best humor when done right, and that’s something you can pry from my cold, dead hands.

“Thank you for the amazing cake,” I say, and then I pull Royal in for a kiss. His kisses are always hard and rough, the kind that leave you breathless after. I have to push him away because he won’t be the one to break the embrace, and I only do so so I can pull Hawthorne toward me and give him a kiss, too.

Hawthorne’s kisses are of a much sweeter, more gentle variety. He might be the oldest of us by a few years, but even now he acts like it’s all new to him.

Ezra waits his turn, but once I’m free, he moves to stand between my knees and wraps his arms around me, his mouth coming down on mine. His kisses are somewhere between Royal’s and Hawthorne’s, with slight twinges of roughness every now and then, but mainly they’re soft and urgent.

Only when the kisses are done does Hawthorne pick up the knife and ask, “What piece do you want? And how big?”

“Oh,” I deadpan, “you guys want some, too? Fine, I guess I’ll share. I want the skeleton with the dick, the words serial killer, and then all the flowers.”

“So you want the whole thing?” Hawthorne asks, eyebrows raised.

“No, not all of it. That leaves this part right here.” I point to the words Congrats, you’re a. “You three can share that part, can’t you?” When the three of them only look at me, I grin. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll share.”

“Must be your rich upbringing,” Royal remarks. “You don’t want to share. Seems hypocritical, since we have to share every damn day.”

Holding my hands up, I mutter, “That’s just how this here cookie crumbles, boys.”

Ezra smiles. “Well…” He pauses as he walks to one of the cabinets on the other side of the island. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I made us get another one.” He pulls out a second box and places it near the first, and as he lifts the lid I see a cake almost identical to the first, only different in that there’s no added dick to the skeleton, or anything other than Congrats on it.

“Awe, you guys know me so well,” I say. “Mine is totally better, so I’m okay with you guys sharing that one.”

“Told you,” Ezra says, and Hawthorne nods. Royal still only has eyes for me, so it doesn’t take much to know his real dessert will be later.

Me.

Hawthorne cuts both cakes. I get a ginormous piece out of my special cake, while they each get more reasonably-sized pieces from theirs. Ezra pours me a big, tall glass of milk, and then we take our cake into the living room, where we watch something else.

It is a delicious cake, made even better by the sweet additions onto it. Though my piece is easily more than double the size of what the guys have, I manage to devour it all without a complaint, including the glass of milk. I might need to be rolled out of the room after, but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is the yummy cake in my belly.

I bet other serial killers don’t get a cake when they make it official. I’m a special little flower. I fucking love it.

We watch another movie, let the cake digest, but even though I try to focus on the movie, I can’t help it. I know these guys have something else planned. I know there has to be something else. The way they were flitting about all week, there’s no possible way it was only for a cake. There’s more, mark my words.

And even if there’s not? There’ll still be sex. Lots and lots of sex. I’m psychic. I know it.

It’s only when the movie ends that I say, “So, what now?” I make sure to glance at each of the guys, letting my stare linger for a bit before moving onto the next. “The night is still young.”

Ezra and Royal look to Hawthorne, who adjusts his glasses and says, “Well… there is something—” He coughs and stands, extending his hand to me. “If you’ll come with me.”

Grinning widely, I take his hand and let him pull me to my feet. Hawthorne leads me through the house, up the stairs, and Royal and Ezra trail after us. My heart beats fast in my chest. I assume we’re headed to one of our bedrooms so we can tear off each other’s clothes and go at it like rabid animals, but we end up in his office instead.

Okay, now I’m confused. Still horny, but confused.

“More reports to do?” I ask, tilting my head at Hawthorne as he finally releases my hand.

“Not quite,” he says. He stands beside his desk, and it’s right then that I notice his laptop is conspicuously missing from where it normally is. Just papers and pens; unimportant things scattered on top of the wooden desk. “The other day, I remembered one of the comments you made in the beginning.”

I’m smiling. I’m smiling even though I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Can you be more specific? I say a lot of things. The beginning was kind of a blur, if I’m honest. I really thought you guys were going to kill me, so for a while I was saying anything that came into my head.” Rambling, kind of like how I am now.

Hawthorne looks at Royal and gives him a nod, which causes Royal to say, “I think a demonstration would be better.” Then the man grabs me by the wrist, yanks me toward the desk, and uses his other hand to sweep everything off Hawthorne’s desk in one fell swoop.

Oh. Right. That’s what I said.