Page 124 of Rattle the Cage

Tucking her dick back into her pants, Cyrus admired me for a moment before doing up her belt. “Here.”

Next thing I knew, strong hands were pulling my stretched out thong back into place and gently pulling up my pants. It felt wrong to be so vulnerable in front of Cyus, but also so natural. I relented to her touch as she scooped me up in her arms and crossed around the front of the car, tucking me back into the passenger seat with as much tenderness as she could manage.

Wouldn’t stand much of a chance even if I wanted to fight her on it.

And before I knew it, she was back in the driver’s seat, pulling out of the ditch as if what we’d just done was little more than a rest stop. I was shocked by the normalcy of it all, the calmness.

In any other scenario, I could have drifted off to sleep just like this, enjoying the peace and quiet, the safety. But tonight, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of Cyrus’ hands on the steering wheel. I tried to memorize how softly they’d carried me, how ruthlessly they’d ravaged me.

She’s a walking contradiction.

But trying to categorize her into one neat box — love or hate, cruelty or kindness — didn’t seem worth it anymore. Cyrus wasn’t meant to be contained any more than I was meant to be without her.

As we hurdled into the darkness, there was no energy left to deny the truth. Cyrus had a hold on me. Even if it might get me hurt again.

60

TESS

My memories after the car ride were bleary. At some point, despite my vigil to Cyrus’ hands, I must have drifted off. I didn’t remember getting out of the car, just strong arms setting me down on my bed. Soft light and hushed whispers bleeding in from the hallway. Two warm bodies bracketing mine as I drifted off to sleep.

Nash and Blade.

I could still smell them on my sheets. But as I reached out for them, my hand only met cool, rumbled fabric.

What time is it?

I batted my eyes open by degrees. I wasn’t sure where I’d set my phone, but even through my hazy vision, the bright sunlight beaming through the window told me that night was gone.

I rolled over, pulling a pillow over my head to hide from the sun. I wasn’t ready to face the day — not until I figured out how much of last night had been a dream.

When I closed my eyes, I could still feel Cyrus’ hands ghosting over my body, her lips on my chest. Had I really let her fuck me with a gun?

The soreness between my legs told me yes. And the slickness told me that I would let her do it again.

Is that from last night? Or new?

I needed to clean up. Though… it seemed like such a shame to waste it.

I peeked out from beneath the pillow, reaching tentatively for my bedside drawer. There had to be something in there I could use — some toy Nash or Blade had left behind in their various visits. But before I could make contact with the drawer…

“Good morning, Trinket!” Blade kicked in my door, letting it swing wildly into the wall. The resulting bang sounded like it went through the drywall rather than bouncing off of it.

“What the fuck?” I peeked out from beneath the pillow with a groan.

Blade stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips and a wide grin. She was wearing her fall finest: distressed jeans and a red flannel whose sleeves had been cut — or by the looks of it, axed — off.

“Are you ready?” she bounded across the room, flopping onto my bed with all the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning.

“Ready?” I parroted, too groggy to form my own sentences.

And that was when her keeper appeared in the doorway, rubbing a lightning-covered hand over her neck. “Sorry about the wake up call, Sweet Lamb. She slipped her leash.”

“What time is it?” I groaned.

“Pumpkin picking time!” Blade shot upright, fixing me with that wicked grin. “You have no idea what you’re in for. This is like, the best day of the year.”

She was practically vibrating with excitement — the mattress squeaked beneath her as she kicked her legs out.