Page 68 of They Call Me Wicked

He’ll have to work double time to earn their forgiveness.

It doesn’t seem like it’s going to be anytime soon, either, based on the multitude of scratches they peppered on his skin while fighting to stay with Alan. I added my own bits of artwork to the display during last night’s activities, and it’s one of those moments where I wish I could see and really appreciate the masterpiece I’m sure the asshole is right now.

As three more auras surface behind me, Gizmo lets out a loud shriek, rocketing off of my shoulders, quickly followed by Snitch. My mouth drops open as Gizmo’s aura speeds away from me before clambering up the leg of Kai’s pants and wrapping himself around his head. Snitch does the same to Ezra shortly after, leaving Nic to let out a string of unidentifiable curses as he stomps away.

He might be a bit salty at the obvious favoritism from my furry little babies.

“Traitors!” I hiss the words with no real heat behind them before crossing my arms and following Nic’s angry footsteps. Inside, I’m fucking swooning like a fairytale princess. Gizmo and Snitch are territorial and picky, so the fact that they seem to be extremely attached to Kai and Ezra is a wickedly good sort of sign.

But also, maybe sort of bad…

After my stalker is caught, what’s going to happen? Will life go back to the way it was before this mess? Will they stick around?

I know they said they weren’t ever leaving, but come on! Who can trust the words of those in the midst of naughty deeds? Nobody wants to be hit with hard facts and be left with blue balls or, God forbid, a blue bean.

Like last night, for instance.

My body coils tightly as I walk, remembering the ways Nic commanded my body, then my tongue as he forced me to submit to him. It’s fucking hot, don’t get me wrong. But I’m not a kept woman, and I never will be. I belong to me. I only lend myself out to those I deem worthy, and only for a little while. Which makes me sound like a prostitute, but the point remains. No one owns me.

Even if they could…I guess I would have three owners at this point. And one of them with the world’s biggest cock swinging between his legs.

Fuck, that thing has to be setting world records. I wonder what it would be like to try and swallow it…

“Wicked! For fuck’s sake, will you get over here?” Nic’s accented voice is snappy and rude, but I brush it off. I know what he sounds like when he comes and that shit is power.

“Coming…sir.” I add the title as an afterthought, a wicked grin stretching across my face as he chokes and coughs to try to cover it up.

He sure likes being in charge in the bedroom. I guess it’s a good thing that’s the only place I like to be controlled.

When I finally make it to him, Alan’s aura reaches me from nearby, but he seems to be wrapped up in a conversation and doesn’t join us right away. A strong arm grips my hip, squeezing to the point of a delectable sort of pain.

“Keep fucking pushing me,mi vida, and I might just snap and bend you over right here in front of everybody. Your ass will be sore for a fucking week,” Nic growls in my ear before pressing his hips against my ass, and then he’s gone, disappearing as quickly as he came.

Yes,sir.

“Wicked, Nic,” Alan greets us before his aura tunes in somewhere behind me. “Gizmo and Snitch missed the guys, huh?” He asks with a lilt of teasing in his tone.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” I stamp my foot as I jerk my head up. “The little shits.”

“So, I know none of you are particularly broken up about our victim, and I’m right there with you, but do stay professional and do your jobs, alright?” Alan sighs out, but it seems like he’s just saying the words to cover a base, and not to actually giving a shit one way or the other.

“Who’s the victim?” I ask, though I have a pretty good idea already.

“You didn’t tell her? God, nevermind.” He runs his hand through his hair in the way he always does when he’s thinking. I don’t actually see it, but I hear the swish of his jacket, and knowing Alan, I can picture it clearly. “His name is Arlington Jefferies, goes by Arlo, age twenty-nine, last seen…well, you know.”

“Ahh.” Yup, suspicions confirmed. No wonder the guys didn’t bother telling me. It’s not like it would shock me or break me. Nope. Honestly? I have to try super hard not to smile.

I know, I know. That’s wicked as hell. But can you blame me?

Rapists deserve to die. And be tortured. That too.

“Cause of death?”

“Hard to say…” This is where Alan hesitates and I tune into him to get the picture.

“Focus for me, please.” I reach out to him and he takes my hand.

His being comes into focus. He’s lighter, freer than he’s been in a long time. No longer forced to feel guilt about his work or every decision he makes. Sarah is one hundred percent out of the picture and the divorce paperwork is being started. She’s already seeing someone else, but Alan doesn’t care as much as he thought he would.