Pr*ck Charming

  I rolled my eyes. Whatever he was doing, I seriously didn’t care anymore. I moved past it into our room, and that’s when I caught my reflection in the mirror above the vanity, and my eyes landed right on the two sets of bruised hickeys on my neck.

  My face blushed hot.

  Instantly, it all came rushing back. In a second, I was right back to being with the two of them — Dustin and Blake. My mind flashed back to a mere hour before, when I’d done the craziest thing of my entire life and given myself to them. I’d thrown every bit of caution and rationality away and let two huge, powerful, dominant men take me every way they pleased.

  And I’d loved every fucking second of it.

  In fact, I’d never felt more alive, or more on fire, or more just…buzzing with life than I had during, and then after that.

  But God, what had I done? An hour before, I’d submitted to two absolutely gorgeous, dominant, filthy police officers. I’d dropped to my knees. I’d moaned like dirty girl as I’d sucked their cocks, and I’d begged them to take me at the same time.

  I’d let Dustin fuck my ass for the very first time.

  But the thing was, I’d never been more turned on, ever. I’d never been treated like that — so roughly, and so filthy like that. On my knees, handcuffed, against the side of car while two strangers used my mouth and then every bit of my body.

  My pussy clenched at the thought, wet all over again.

  I thought about the way they’d talked to me — how they’d called me their little slut, their angel.

  I bit my lip, squeezing my legs together right there in my bedroom as it all came creeping through me again.

  And the thing was, I’d loved being both those things for them — slut and angel. I’d loved the mix of filthy and tender — of sweetness and fire.

  But then, it’d all come crashing down.

  I shook my head, as if to clear the amazing memories from it, as I grabbed a duffle bag from the closet and started packing.

  They’d been watching me.

  The reality of that slowly sank in, making my skin tingle, with what I’m not sure. Maybe fear. Maybe arousal.

  And Jesus, Tim was under investigation? I wondered if I was under investigation, too — unwittingly an accomplice to his bullshit.

  I tossed away my bikini top, pulled on a t-shirt, and slid a pair of cutoffs up my legs before tossing my skirt away. I pulled a drawer open and started stuffing t-shirts and panties into the bag, chewing my lip as the worry set in. But then, I paused as a warm tingling sensation came creeping up my back.

  They’d been watching me, and I suddenly wondered if they were watching me now.

  I bit my lip, blushing at what they might have seen for however long they’d been surveilling this house — me showering, changing.

  Me touching myself when Tim was gone.

  I blushed again, my pussy clenching tight, and this time, I imagined knowing Dustin and Blake were watching, and putting on a show for them. I imagined stripping down right there, laying back on the bed, spreading my legs, and playing with my dripping wet, slick pussy for them.

  I closed my eyes as the filthy fantasy crept through me, before I suddenly opened my eyes and shook my head.

  No. This was just a fantasy. They weren’t watching now, I was sure of it. Someone else was, which was an unpleasant thought. No, Dustin and Blake had had their fun, and they’d known exactly who I was when they’d pulled me over and made my body tingle with lust as they patted me down.

  Except…

  Except there was that nagging feeling that’d been there since the first speeding stop. It’d been there tonight at the house, when we’d all three come crashing together. And that feeling was that they just felt real.

  Blake and Dustin felt safe, and it was like I’d known them forever.

  They felt like what I’d once thought I had with Tim, only infinitely stronger, and more powerful. They felt like a missing piece, a part of a puzzle I’d been trying to solve for longer than I could remember.

  They felt like the real deal.

  I almost laughed out loud at the thought. Please, you don’t feel like that for a stranger, and you sure as hell don’t for two of them!

  And yet, here I was smiling and blushing and mooning around like some love-struck teenager.

  God, what was I doing, falling for them?

  I shook my head as I finished shoving some clothes into a bag. I could let myself go down that hole later. For now, I needed to call a friend or find a hotel. I needed to get out of here.

  It was funny, but I wasn’t at all worried about leaving Tim. It’s like I’d shut that door, and they’d helped me — Dustin and Blake. I wasn’t sad, or really even mad anymore. I was just ready to move forward from this.

  Leave Tim to his side girl, and whatever they were investigating him for. I was leaving. I was going to clear my head, and figure out what sort of craziness had set into me where I was getting all love-struck about the two strange men I’d just let take me on the side of the road.

  First though, I was going to get a very tall glass of—

  The door to Tim’s study opened just as I turned to leave the bedroom, and I froze.

  It wasn’t Tim.

  I gasped, taking a step back as the older man with silvered hair smiled darkly at me as he stepped from Tim’s office, an unlit cigar in his mouth.

  “You must be Samantha,” he said in a thickly Spanish accent.

  I swallowed, my eyes darting past him to the hallway.

  He grinned and whistled loudly, and suddenly three more men piled out of Tim’s study and crowded the doorway to the bedroom.

  I could feel my breath coming in gasps, my heart jumping into my throat. And suddenly, Tim stepped into view.

  “Samantha,” he shook his head and sighed. “Shit.”

  “Tim, what the hell is—”

  “I wish you hadn’t followed me tonight, Sam,” my shithead of an ex-fiancé said with an obnoxious sigh.

  I froze. “What?”

  “I saw the car, Samantha.” He shook his head. “This coulda been easy if you’d just let it happen.”

  My eyes narrowed at him. “Let what, exactly, happen? You stepping out to go screw some girl?”

  The other men in the room chuckled darkly.

  “This life,” Tim raised his arms at the huge house around us and shrugged. “What I do bought you all of this — the shopping, the cars, the house.”

  “And what do you do,” I said coldly.

  Tim grinned, saying nothing.

  The older, Spanish man stepped forward. “Time to go, sweetheart.”

  I balked at him. “What? I’m not going—”

  The scream caught in my throat as the three goons standing behind him suddenly darted into the room and grabbed me. I screamed again, thrashing against them, but they held my squirming body fast.

  “The fuck are you doing?!” I screamed out.

  “Loose ends, Sam,” Tim said with a passive sigh. “See, we’re moving operations up, and you’re, well,” he chuckled. “Looks like you’re a liability now.”

  “A what?!”

  I lurched towards him, but the three guys held me back in unyielding grips.

  Tim laughed.

  “You know what, Sam?” he chuckled. “I think we should start seeing other people.”

  “Fuck you, Tim,” I spat.

  The older man laughed quietly, chewing on his cigar as he wordlessly turned and started to leave the room.

  “Bring her,” he tossed quietly over his shoulder.

  I screamed as the three men lifted me, a hand going over my mouth as they began to drag me out of the bedroom and down the hall.

  Oh, God…

  Chapter 12

  Dustin

  We were almost back to our place when the squad car radio squawked.

  “Unit eleven, over.”

  Blake shot me a look. We were off duty, and on our way to grab a bite to clear our heads after what’d happened and h
ow badly we’d let it go crashing down. And me? Well, I was going to get drunk as fuck, that’s for sure.

  The radio squawked again, and I groaned.

  “You wanna get that?” Blake scowled.

  “Fine, fuck it.”

  I clicked the switch over to two-way mode and cleared my throat. “Hey, what’s up, dispatch? Blake and I were just about to—”

  “Code red!”

  We both froze at the sound of our ranking sergeant’s voice. Sarge never called cars himself.

  And then there was “code red.”

  That was never a good sign.

  “Code red for—?”

  “For the op! The Plimpton case!”

  Blake slammed on the breaks, yanking the car to the side of the road. “What,” he snarled.

  “Surveillance just called it in a few seconds ago — we’re fucking blown on the Plimpton stakeout!”

  “The fuck happened?” I said, my voice feeling like lead, a chilling feeling creeping through me. I didn’t know where Samantha had gone after she’d peeled out of the cul-de-sac, but she couldn’t have gone back to that asshole’s house, right?

  “Plimpton is fucking gone, guys,” Sarge barked over the radio. “Santiago himself was there at the house, and they’re gone.”

  I exhaled slowly.

  There was no way she was there.

  “Any idea where they—”

  “They grabbed the fiancée too, guys.”

  The world went dark. For a second, it felt like something was shattering inside my chest. Slowly, I turned to Blake, seeing him looking white, his hands clenching the wheel so hard I was sure he’d snap it off.

  “They shook the surveillance tail, too,” Sarge growled. “Look, we need you to come in. The FBI’s coming down, and we’re going to figure this shit out. We’re moving on this, we just need to find them.

  Them.

  I knew Blake had the same thought as me right then. There was no them to worry about.

  Only her.

  We didn’t give a shit about Tim and Miguel, and the rest of them in that moment. The only thing in the fucking world that mattered in that moment was finding her.

  The only thing that mattered was getting our Samantha back.

  “See you when you get here, over and out.”

  Sarge cut the call, and the car went silent except the sound of our breathing.

  Slowly, we turned to look at each other.

  “He took her.”

  Blake nodded, his face grim. “Which means something’s up. Maybe she saw something, or heard something. Fuck, I mean Santiago himself was there?”

  I nodded. “Look, if we head to the station and wait for the fucking FBI, and we’ll never get her. And you know that.”

  Blake swore, his fist crashing into the steering wheel before we both went silent for another full minute.

  “You’re thinking what I’m thinking, right?”

  I turned to my friend, frowning. “I’m trying to not think about what might be happening to her, actually—”

  “No,” Blake shook his head. “Not that. I’m thinking we’re the two most driven guys I know, we’re military trained, and we’ve got a trunk full of shotguns and body armor.”

  Slowly, a grim, hard smile cracked across my face, and I nodded.

  “In that case, then fuck yes, I’m thinking the same thing as you.”

  Blake nodded grimly. “Let’s do this.”

  “Where are we thinking?”

  Blake’s jaw tightened as he glared out the windshield. “If Miguel dodged a tail, it means he knows there’s a tail, which means he knows they’re being watched. He won’t go to any obvious place, like his own place, or restaurant.”

  The restaurant was one of Miguel Santiago’s fronts — Blake and I had staked it out many times. Every week, it seemed like we were adding new places of Miguel’s that intel had just discovered to stake out. The restaurant, the condo he kept by the beach, the place in LA, the sports bar over on Tanner Street, his niece’s—

  I froze.

  His niece’s house.

  Today had been the first day of surveillance on the place, since intel had just figured out that it might be a point of interest.

  Slowly, I turned to Blake.

  “Dude.”

  He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

  “Blake,” I punched him in the arm. That got his attention.

  “What?” he growled.

  “The niece’s place.”

  His eyes went wide. “Holy shit.”

  “A hundred bucks says no one back at the station even has it on their radar. We just got the intel on that this morning.”

  I didn’t have to say another word before my friend suddenly cranked on the engine, slammed the car into drive, and peeled out in a U-turn.

  “It’s a shot,” he said icily as we shot down the beach road.

  “It’s a shot I’m sure as shit willing to take,” I growled back.

  “Me too, brother.”

  “We’re getting her back, man.”

  Blake’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Fuck yes we are.”

  Because no one was going to take our Samantha and get away with it. And she was ours — Blake knew it, I knew it, and I knew she knew it.

  She belonged to us, and we were going to go take back what was ours.

  Chapter 13

  Samantha

  “This woulda been so much easier if you’d just done what you were supposed to do, Sam.”

  Tim smirked at me from the sofa across the room. The bitch he’d been seeing behind my back was sitting right next to him, checking her phone — like this was the best time to be going on Facebook or whatever.

  Tim shook his head before bringing the match in his hand to the cigar in his.

  “Wish you’d just played the part, Sam.”

  I screamed — well, I muffled screamed — at him through the gag in my mouth, straining as two of the henchmen finished binding my arms to the swivel office chair.

  “You should’ve just played the housewife role. Stay at home, do whatever you want, and don’t ask questions. Don’t poke around,” Tim sighed and puffed on the cigar.

  “You know, there’s a saying about curious cats,” the older man said with that dark voice, the Spanish lilt rolling off his tongue.

  I glared daggers at him.

  My mind spun with what was happening to me. In one freaking day, my life had been a whirlwind of things I’d never in a million years imagined happening to me. My relationship - however broken, strained, and on the rocks, coming undone. Getting pulled over, and then getting more turned on than I’d ever been at the rough treatment of the two dominant men who’d pulled me over.

  And then there’d been later — later, when I’d submitted to them. Later when I’d found myself sinking to my knees, taking them both, and letting them drive me higher than I’d ever been.

  Letting them make me feel things I’d never felt before.

  There was the aftermath of that — of sitting there realizing I felt closer to those two men than I’d ever felt to anyone, and being terrified of what that meant.

  And then the bomb dropping — them telling me about the surveillance. I’d felt wronged, and lied to, in the moment. But now?” Now all I could think was that I’d overreacted.

  Hell, they’d been honest about it. They could have let happen what happened, walked away, and never said a word to me.

  But they hadn’t.

  And I think part of me knew why. Because I knew I wasn’t the only one who’d felt those feelings. And yes, I knew how clichéd that was for some wayward, lost woman to think when someone, or someones, showered her with attention she’d been starved for, but I knew it was more than that. I’d seen the way they’d looked at me, the way their hands had lingered, at the pain in their eyes when they’d told me.

  I’d run away from them and the promise of what might have been with them. Now I was tied to a chair, surrounded by men with guns,
and more than ever, I wished I’d stayed with them.

  “This is nothing personal,” the older man said with a shrug, puffing on his own cigar. “But loose ends are loose ends, and in our business, those cannot be tolerated.”

  My heart raced as I eyed the guns in his henchmen’s hands.

  The older man laughed. “That? No, no, we are not savages are we?” he grinned. “No one is going to shoot you in my niece’s living room.”

  The girl looked up briefly from her phone and smiled before glancing back down, and I found myself slowly letting out the breath I’d been holding.

  “No, you’re going to go for a swim, chica.”

  I froze, my eyes snapping back to him.

  “Yes, I have this wonderful yacht — you’ll see it,” he said with a low chuckle. “But I’m afraid it will be a one-way trip for—”

  Suddenly, shots rang out from somewhere in the house, and the whole room exploded into action.

  The old man whirled, barking out orders to his henchmen, and I saw Tim’s face go white as he quickly lurched to his feet.

  “The fuck is that, Miguel!?’

  “Do I look like a fucking mind reader?” the man snarled.

  His niece screamed and dove behind the sofa as more shots banged through the house from somewhere downstairs. I could feel my pulse pounding like a drum.

  The older man, Miguel, drew a gun from his jacket, his eyes darting around the room as he screamed out orders in Spanish. The henchmen all dropped to their knees, guns trained on the door to the living room as more shots hammered through the house.

  My breathing came ragged behind the gag. Was it the cops? Or God, what if it was some other gang? My mind reeled as all the horrible scenarios raced through my head.

  Miguel turned and suddenly, the gun was trained right at me.

  “Whoever comes though this door, drop them,” he hissed to his men, cocking the hammer and pressing the gun to my head.

  Silence suddenly draped the house.

  No more shots, no more screaming.