Shameless Hoe HQ

You're so nervous about that part. Sure, you've got some experience, but this is Ari Levinson. He's not known for being patient or gentle and the growls in your ear and his rough touches are further evidence of that. You know you're going to be sore afterwards and you're not sure he'll care.

Ari opens the door to your hotel suite and moves to pick you up but you back away too quickly.

"What are you doing?" you exclaim.

"I'm trying to carry my wife across the threshold," he growls, closing the distance between you.

"Look, I'm certain you're a very strong man," you start, "but I am a very heavy woman and I will not be accused of trying to kill you by breaking your back on the day of the wedding."

He grips the back of your head and smashes his lips to yours. Taken aback, your lips part as if to let out a gasp he and shoves his tongue into your mouth. It's by far the roughest, most demanding kiss you've ever experienced. It's overwhelming and your can feel your knees wobble a little.

Ari breaks the kiss, a look of smug satisfaction across his face. "There. You're too weak-kneed to walk and you need me to carry you."

"That's not f---"

Your protests are interrupted by Ari picking you up. Afraid of falling, you cling as tight to him as you're able.

"Only place I'm dropping you is on the bed," he promises. "So if you could let up on the collar, I'd appreciate it."

"Not until you put me down!" you argue.

"Then I guess I better hurry and get you to the bed," he teases.

Your heart drops when you realize what he's doing: he's showing you there's no overpowering him. That he's the one who's got the literal and metaphorical strength to keep you in your place. That has to be it, right? Your sister was easy to scare off, he wouldn't have had to show off like this for her. No. You're the one who challenged him, who didn't back down despite his obvious anger. You need to be shown who's in charge.

If he'd just ask you, you could've told him you know better than to question him. Well, aside from the contract. And just now with the carrying...Okay, maybe it is your own fault he needs to go through the demonstration of strength.

You feel Ari start to fall forward and you let out a frightened squeal only to find yourself landing on a very soft bed with a very heavy man on top of you. A very heavy man who is already kissing down your throat as one of his hands starts undoing the buttons on your jacket.

"Thought the pantsuit would make this easier," he huffs with a tinge of amusement. "Hope you're not too attached to this thing."

Putting his lips back against your skin, Ari pulls the lapel of your jacket so hard some of the buttons pop off. He smothers your protests with his mouth and pulls again, ridding your jacket of it's remaining buttons and revealing the white sleeveless cami you're wearing underneath.

Ari pushes up your shirt and bra, freeing your breasts. Growling in appreciation he roughly takes one nipple in his mouth. One hand kneads your breast while the other kneads your belly. If he's turned off by your extra cushion he makes no sign of it.

He must be really pent up, you think. It's not unheard of for men to not even jerk off a couple weeks before the wedding in the hopes of getting their wife pregnant quickly. That's probably all that's happening here. The sooner you give him an heir, the sooner he never has to touch you again.

"So deliciously soft," he moans as he starts alternating kisses and gentle bites down your front. You can't help the little squeaks and fidgets his mouth causes.

When he gets to the top of your pants he eagerly starts pulling them down with your panties. You raise your hips to help him and he smirks, calling you a good girl, and your face heats up even more.

Ari spreads your legs, giving him a good look at your already slick pussy.

"Fucking beautiful," he moans. You let out a dismissive huff without thinking and Ari's gaze snaps to meet yours. "What was that?"

A few thoughts spring to mind until you finally settle on being honest with the scary mob boss you've just married.

"We both know that no part of me is beautiful," you reply. "I've been told often enough that I'm too fat to be pretty. And you clearly agree given that you rushed us to the hotel instead of going to the reception. You don't want to be seen with me, I get it. I'm used to working behind the scenes anyways. Just don't lie to me about it."

Ari's expression darkens. This is the second time today you've seen that glare. It should be enough to have you scrambling to apologize, but you keep yourself from doing so. He's your husband. The least he can do is be honest with you.

"Sit up," he orders.

Clumsily you move yourself to the edge of the bed so you can sit up. If he wants to talk to you like an adult, you'll certainly comply. As soon as you're in position, Ari grips your chin and forces you to look up at him.

"Have I ever given you the impression that I'm a polite man? That I give a shit about social niceties?" he growls.

"No..."

"And have I ever been known for lying or backstabbing? For smiling in someone's face while planning their death?"

"N-no..."

"Then why the hell would I lie to you about your looks?"

You can feel your brain buffering as you try to answer him. It's true he's never been anything but brutally honest. But it's also true that you're not attractive. So how can he say that you're beautiful if he's not lying?

"I'm your wife?" you offer.

"And why would that make a difference?"

"To keep me happy...To keep me from being...from being a nuisance?"

Ari smirks and a chill runs down your spine. "I am a big believer in 'happy wife, happy life.' But I'm also not a man to change his ways for anyone. When I say you're beautiful, I mean it. And if anyone tells you you're not, you give me their name and I'll make an example of them."

You feel your lower lip quiver as you process his words. "But...but I'm not... The reception?"

Ari's smirk turns into a full smile. "The reception was a formality I decided not to observe so I could spend more time with my incredibly sexy, smart, fiery wife."

"I...I don't understand. You wanted my sister."

"Your parents picked her," he counters. "As happy as I was to see you walk the aisle, I'm not a man who likes being lied to. I'd heard your sister ran and needed to make sure you weren't trying to pull the wool over my eyes. That you weren't going to try to argue the wedding was off."

"That's why you agreed so quick?"

"Of course. I got myself a wife who can step up and look a killer in the eye without flinching. You're not someone I'm going to have to shield from my work. You're partner material. I can rely on you."

Tears drop from your eyes. Tears of confusion. Tears of hope.

"Now," Ari continues, "if you'll excuse me, I've got a beautiful woman naked in front of me and I aim to take advantage."

You still can't fight the little huff you let out, but you're able to accompany it with a smile and that seems to appease him.

Ari leans in close and growls, "I'm going to have to shut off that brain of yours so you can accept a compliment, aren't I?"

"Probably," you mumble, trying to lower your gaze.

"Best way to do that is to have you sit on my face," he winks as he starts removing his jacket.

"What? Absolutely not!" Ari pauses, eyebrows raised. "It's bad enough you set me up to break your back by carrying me," you explain."Now you want me to suffocate you?!"

"What I want is for you to soak my beard," he smirks, continuing to remove his clothes even as he maintains eye contact. "But I suppose there are other ways to do that. Now lay back and spread those legs for me."

Your breath hitches but you find yourself obeying. There's a renewed heat flaring up as you're hesitantly optimistic about what comes next. Laying back you hold your legs open, putting yourself on display for Ari.

"Good girl," he praises, voice low and gravely.

Removing his shirt, you get a good look at his muscly torso and let out a whimper. The tattoos, scars and chest hair can't hide his muscles.

"Like what you see, Beautiful?" he teases as he steps closer. You nod, unsure of your ability to keep your voice steady.

Ari kneels in front of you like a worshiper at the altar. "Make sure to use that melodious voice of yours to let me know when I'm going a good job."

"O-ok," you nod even as your breaths become shallow.

In a blink, Ari pulls you to the very edge of the bed and wraps your legs around his head. He nuzzles his face against your pussy, humming in delight, before tonguing your slit. When he hears your light gasp, Ari rubs your clit with his nose, smiling at the cute sounds you make. He quickly picks up speed and you can't hold back your moans, even if you wanted.

Ari's big hands start kneading your butt while pushing your pussy into his face as much as physically possible. He wants to absolutely devour you, and he will later. But for now he's going to study your reactions, learn your preferences, your sensitive spots. Ari wants to completely ruin you for all other men, to get you addicted to his touch. As much as wants to fuck you until you're dripping his cum from every hole, he needs to make sure you enjoy yourself.

Pleasure is quickly overtaking the fear and anxiety you've been experience all day. Ari clearly knows what he's doing and you're quickly reaching your peak. He's told you not to be quiet about your pleasure so let your appreciation be known, emphasized by riding his face as best you can.

"Ari..." you practically whimper as you grip the sheets. Ari adjusts himself so his mouth is on your clit and you start chanting his name, screaming it as his tongue pushes you over the edge. Groaning as your legs wrap tighter around his head, Ari finds himself appreciating the soft cushion as much as the muscle underneath.

But he's not done with you. Far from it. He lightens his touch as you come down from your orgasm, but he doesn't fully stop. When your legs relax a little, he eagerly readjusts so he can lap up your juices. His nose brushes your clit and you whimper, instinctively trying to pull away, but he isn't having it.

"I said I wanted my beard soaked, Beautiful," Ari growls, giving you a small glare. "And I get what I want."

"Y-y-yes, Ari."

One of Ari's fingers probes your core making you moan and his mouth returns to your pearl as he continues to study your reactions. He pulls a few more orgasms from you, each one causing your body to feel more and more like jelly. Your mind can't keep track of how of how long he's been worshiping your cunt. All you know is the push and pull of his pleasure inducing ministrations.

Ari revels in learning how responsive your body is, hearing your voice screaming his name, giving in to him.

When he can't hold back any longer, Ari stands and takes off the rest of his clothes. You take the time to catch your breath but your curiosity also has you lifting your head to get a look at your husband. Ari catches you looking and smirks as he frees his erection and sees your eyes widen.

"It's all for you, Beautiful," he declares, pumping himself a few times.

Kissing up your front, he moves to cage you underneath him. In addition to the tickles from his beard, you can feel the dampness of your juices that have soaked his beard. You didn't know you could get so wet! You whimper as his cock nudges your overly sensitive clit but Ari silences you with a passionate kiss. Tasting yourself on his tongue, feeling his weight, your hips start rolling as your pussy demands to be filled.

"So eager for me," Ari teases, making you wince in embarrassment.

"Ah, ah, ah," he chides, gripping your chin and moving you to face him. When you meet his eyes, his hand slides down to your neck, applying a small amount of pressure. "I want you eager. I want you to be a slut for my cock."

"Y-y-you always get w--what you want," you remember him saying before he melted your brain.

"Good girl," he growls as he angles himself in front of your core.

Ari gives in to his urges and sheaths himself in one stroke making you keen. His eyes never leave your face, memorizing how entrancing you look, how enthralling you sound. Giving you minimal time to adjust, he ruts into you, unable and unwilling to hold back. Especially as your nails dig into his back and you cry out.

"That's it, Beautiful," he coos, voice gravely. "You're taking me so well I'm gonna give you everything. Everything every day until you get it finally sinks in that I want you."

You can tell he's talking but you can't spare the brainpower to figure out what he's saying. The fullness is too much but somehow feels so damn good. The stretch of him burns with a toe curling blend of pleasure and pain. His weight, his growls, his demanding pace have you speeding towards another wave of pleasure. As you reach another crest, you scream his name.

You should be scared at how much pleasure Ari is able to give you. But he is also the first man you've been with to show such enthusiasm. He makes you crave more. More of his touch. More of his praise. More of him.

Ari cums with a roar and your pussy clenches around him. For a few moments he's dazed and he lets himself relax into your soft body, hands kneading you to ground himself.

"Knew you'd be good for me," he rasps. "So I better prove myself good for you. Let's get you some water and then I'll clean you up. Even though I'm just going to turn you into a mess again."

You chuckle softly underneath him and he purrs at the sensation before getting up to take care of you.

If he's turned off by your extra cushion he makes no sign of it.

Girl! He is mauling you like a man starved, he’s the furthest thing from turned off lol. I can’t wait for it to click that he wants you. Really wants you.

“When I say you're beautiful, I mean it. And if anyone tells you you're not, you give me their name and I'll make an example of them."

🥰🥰🥰

Log Date 53496Willow5

Male subject engaging with female in nonthreatening displays. Aggression no longer detected. Final observations to be recorded before release from containment into habitat.

“I’ve kinda gotten used to it.” You shrug and peer around the corner of the cage to the glass of your enclosure. The curtain finally drawn once again. 

Though you can’t read it, a sign stands in front of your window. Most walk over to examine it and stick around for a minute or two before moving on—as you see an alien doing now. You wave and they startle before returning the gesture. 

Kurt clicks his teeth, leaning in the corner of his box, arms folded tight over his chest. “They’re staring at you. All the time.” 

“Only when it’s open hours,” you say, finger raised in matter-of-fact correction. “And I have my privacy. I can show you once you’re let out of there.” 

You bounce over to the window, the pane of his box frosting over again. Kurt grumbles inside. But you’re focused on the creature outside the window. 

You’ve missed watching your visitors. Each interaction expanding a world wider than your habitat. Curiosity piqued by tentacles, claws, fangs, wings, ears, tails. Speculation and imagination carrying you away with them. With the lack of their presence, it’s all the more apparent how trapped you really are. 

Your legs fold beneath you as you perch on the ledge. A few stragglers wander over. You beam and wave. Your fingers find the glass, pressing to it for those who enjoy comparing their appendages to yours. A towering figure hunches to be the first. 

“You could at least stay close enough so I can get a look,” Kurt calls from his box. 

You turn over your shoulder and back to the window, pushing off from your position. A few steps bring you right to the boundary. 

“You sure you wanna see?” you ask. 

“Better than staring at these four walls,” he sighs on an aggrieved breath. 

You nod to yourself and step forward. The pane clears and Kurt’s eyes catch your own. He stares intently, brow furrowed. A guarded kind of focus refusing to waver until he’s ready. Moments pass as he locks you in his stormy gaze—and you find it hard to look away. Then, he turns to the audience. 

Murmurs rush through the assembled crowd. The first time he’s been viewed by the public. Titters of delight and awe fill the air. More and more bodies press around the glass. 

“This is so fucked up,” he mutters to himself, incredulous. 

The noise and clamour only grows closer. Rising to almost drown out the hiss of the door. But you catch it straight away, head whipping toward the sound. 

Virion enters with another by their side. Without acknowledging you, they gesture to your habitat. Chirps and chitters fall past their lips. Each one a snag, dragging at your breath. 

You rock back on your heels. Why are butterflies dancing through your belly? Why do your feet feel as though they are standing on hot coals in their ache to race to them?

Kurt’s head follows your gaze. His shoulders jump as he startles before they square. “Who the fuck are they?” He steps toward you, too close to the wall of the box. He bumps into it with a thunk. 

You can’t force yourself to break your gaze. Too ensnared by your keeper. The soft nudge against your mind a caress. 

Come here, please?

You start moving before thought can form. They turn to their colleague and continue in their foreign language. A more serious tone rounding out their sounds. The other nods but remains unfazed, energy jolly and eyes alight. 

Virion’s hand raises, offered to you. Their lips form around familiar, cooing syllables. 

“Hey,” Kurt says, fist knocking on the wall. Jolting you out of your eager advance. He nods his chin toward the two visitors. “Tell me who they are.”

“They take care of us,” you reply, drifting away as if on ocean waves. “They run this place—they’re friendly.” The side of the box hazes over. Your feet carrying you too far. 

Kurt clicks his teeth but says nothing more. 

“Hi,” you greet, a nervous lilt shaking your tone as your gaze darts between them. Your hands knead together at your stomach. A crack from your knuckles prompting you to continue, “Long time, no see.”

Virion doesn’t immediately respond to you, but turns to the alien beside them. They make a few chittering sounds, gesture at your body, nod their head—an explanation. 

Closer, please, if you would not mind. 

You follow the silent request. Your hand finds theirs, their fingers wrapping over your own. The smooth, gentle grip enough to quiet the nerves and the butterflies and your brain. 

Good. 

Their lips tilt in that almost smiling way. They’re pleased with you. And you’re just trying to figure out how to breathe with their thumb running across your skin again. 

They produce one of your candies as a treat and offer. Your lips open and close around it. All the while, they carry on their conversation. Exchanges about you, gestures toward you or your space. 

Without warning, the other one reaches out a hand to pat your head and, startled, you shrink toward Virion. Their grip pulses, a comfort. Their free hand gesturing and bidding the other to still—and hopefully keep their hands to themself. 

Forgive him. He’s excited to meet you. 

Your limbs lock. Head fuzzing around the edges. Excited to meet you? Why? Is he-Is he taking you? 

Sweat makes your hands clammy. Your lashes flutter. Your breath bursts heavy but quick even as you try to keep calm. Scenarios play through your head, impossible to tame. He’s taking you away. He’s taking you away!?

Virion’s hand releases yours. Instead, both move to cup your cheeks. Thumbs smoothing and soothing. A comment made to the other as their attention focuses on you. 

Breathe. 

Their eyes search yours, concern shining down on you. You do your best. An ache in your chest from the strain on your lungs. 

He will not take you from here. He is an important benefactor and donor. He wished for an up-close visit.

You nod, peeking around your keeper to the other. A catalog in your mind of the differences between them aiding in tempering your panic. Darker hair—the color of stormclouds. Different eyes—sharp and brilliant turquoise. Bulkier build—thickset and more muscled. A more expressive face—he beams and reaches toward you again as he catches your stare. 

Your eyes skip to Virion. Why do they keep their expressions controlled, composed, unreadable? There’s a twitch of their cheek, a slow blink. 

Should you let the other touch you? Does Virion want that? Would that be good? How are you supposed to know? Can’t they just tell you?

With your teeth worrying over your lower lip, you hesitate but withdraw from the safety of your keeper’s grasp and present yourself. 

The other displays no hint of unease. His eager hands target your head and face. Explorations of your features prod at skin, tug at your ears, skim your throat. Cooing sounds and chitters of delight pass his lips. A twinkle in the clear blue green of his eyes. Face scrunched in question. You nod in return and press a perplexed smile, unable understand him—try as you might to recognize familiar phrases. 

At the pinch of confusion in your expression, he pauses. A comment thrown toward Virion as he grabs your face, his eyes fluttering closed and head leaning down. 

It’s just the same as when Virion created your connection. Their mind attaching to yours. You twitch, but can’t escape the grasp on your cheeks. A noise breaks past your lips. Your mind scrambles. 

He seems friendly, you reason. Surely no issue will arise from another voice in your head. Virion did bring him here. Maybe they want this. It may as well happen, right?

The other is inches away from your face, his lips beaming in a smile. His teeth startling white and pointed. You focus on them as he continues his approach, contact imminent. 

A palm with two fingers and a thumb covers your forehead, slipping over your skin from behind and pulling you a step back into a firm build. Mere moments before the other’s forehead would have touched. 

Your lips purse, looking up at the hand covering your head. It’s a familiar comfort despite its perplexing placement. Confusion creases the other’s face as well. Their eyes open, narrow. He moves away, derision cast toward your keeper. 

Your head tilts against Virion’s side. They don’t look at you. Instead, they’re talking in rapid, hurried clips of sound. But their hand, it lingers. A tender, affectionate stroke against you. 

Irritation carves into the other’s face. His eyes narrowing on your keeper. And then on their hold of you. 

You reach up, feeling the back of Virion’s hand. The smoothness of their skin beneath your fingertips. One of their fingers tangles with yours like a promise. Their grip pulses before their arm drops and they step forward, gesturing at the other and blocking you behind. 

The conversation exchanges between them while you stare and listen. Sounds you don’t understand volley from each.

You slink back toward the box where Kurt waits. His shoulder leans against the wall, his eyes snapping to focus on the intense conversation. 

“What’s that all about?” he asks without looking away. 

Your mind remains empty of explanation as Virion guides the other through the door without a glance back.

“I,” you swallow around your confusion, “I don’t know.”

Next Part

He tuts at your attempted retreat from his touch as he comes to a stop in front of you. His fingers catch beneath your chin, not only to tilt your tear-stained face up, forcing you to meet his gaze, but to reel you in closer, too, so you’re only inches away from his pelvis.

“You’ll learn very quickly not to try to run away from me, sweetheart… I don’t take kindly to defiance, no matter how small the act.” His touch was surprisingly gentle as he drew his knuckles down your cheek. “And something tells me that a delicate thing like you wouldn’t be very good at enduring my brand of punishment.”

You shudder at the steel in Steve’s voice, the hard glint in his eyes.

His outright threat.

Your breath hitches on an aborted sob as he drags you even closer to him, until your face is pressed against the growing bulge at the front of his slacks.

But this time, you don’t try to pull away. Swallowing down your tears, you force yourself to go pliant and sink against him even more.

Steve huffs a quiet, delighted laugh, his voice much warmer now as he coos, “Good girl.”

-

Needless to say, Steve is enjoying himself. Until the business associate across the table from the two of you makes the mistake of looking at you. Of commenting on Steve’s pretty new toy. Of reaching out and brazenly touching your cheek.

Which is the last thing he ever does with that hand.

Or at all.

It happens so quickly, Steve shifting you off his lap, pulling the largest knife you’ve ever seen from behind his back, and stabbing it through the asshole’s hand, pinning it to the table top.

But that isn’t enough retribution for Steve. Before you can blink, he’s on his feet, reaching across the table, and snapping the man’s neck with his bare hands.

You watch in horror as his former business associate slumps across the table.

Dead.

Right out in the open, surrounded by a club full of people, very few of whom seem even a tiny bit surprised or disturbed by this display.

You’re not quick enough—or in your right mind enough—to suppress the terrified whimper that bubbles up as Steve retakes his seat and sweeps you back onto his lap.

“Shhh,” he shushes you with a gentle caress up your side. Until his big hand—one of which he just used to kill someone—is softly cradling the side of your neck and reeling you close.

Steve nuzzles your cheek with a quiet hum, breathing you in on deep breath before letting it out on a sigh.

His fingers tickle beneath your chin, turning your wide, disbelieving gaze his way, and he grins at your complete and utter shock.

“No one touches what’s mine,” he winks before running his thumb along your lower lip then reaching for his drink.

—

But maybe, just maybe, if you’re good for Steve, if you let him use you and you don’t fight him—because you already know he doesn’t like to be defied—maybe he’ll at least let you go once he’s done.

Once he’s satisfied.

A tiny spark of hope ignites in your chest at the thought, and you can’t help but tremble this very thing as Steve touches his lips to the spot where your shoulder meets your neck.

“W-will you let me go? After?”

You feel the way Steve goes absolutely still against you, and you instantly regret your question. It takes everything inside of you not to flinch away as he slowly raises his head and looks you in the eye.

For a long, tense, terrifying moment, his handsome face is a mask of stoic indifference, giving nothing away.

Distantly, fleetingly, you think that this is why Steve is so deadly. So notorious and widely feared. The best at what he does. Because his enemies never see him coming.

After another long, drawn out beat, Steve smirks at you, lips twitching at the corners and eyes shining with a wicked kind of mirth.

You can’t help but get the sense that it’s almost like he knows something that you don’t.

Once again, he shocks you with the gentleness of his touch as he draws his knuckles down the slope of your cheek.

“I’ll tell you what, sweetheart,” he starts, his voice tinged with condescension. “If you don’t like what I do to you, if you don’t enjoy it at all, if you don’t beg me for my cock, or to make you cum, then sure, I’ll let you go.”

At the sound of your breath hitching at his lewd words—at the sinful picture he paints in your mind’s eye—his smirk morphs into a wolfish grin.

Because if there is one thing Steve Rogers knows for sure in this moment, it’s that he’s going to fucking ruin you. He’ll have you begging and cumming and boneless—utterly annihilated and so thoroughly claimed—before the night is through.

And that’s without even fucking you at all.

Because splitting you open with his cock for the very first time? Sheathing himself inside that tight, virgin pussy of yours?

Claiming you as his—and only his?

Andy can practically see the smoke coming out of your ears. And since you’re currently chatting with a few business council members, he knows you have no choice but to behave and play nice when he walks up to you and acts so friendly and familiar with you.

Saying your name with warmth and pulling you in to kiss your cheek, just able to stifle his belly laugh when he sees your eye twitch as you paste this terribly fake and pained smile on your face.

Sensing Andy’s importance, the business council folks are all aflutter and insist you introduce them to Andy, and when they talk about how nice it must be to be new neighbors, Andy just smiles so big as he nods along.

“She was so beyond welcoming, I couldn’t have asked for a lovelier and more respectful neighbor.”

Andy does finally laugh once it’s just the two of you, and you give him the nastiest stink eye he’s ever received as you hiss, “How dare you infest a place filled with honest, humble, non-murderous business owners with your organized crime cooties.”

“You have me all wrong, you know,” Andy smiles at you, his gaze looking as amused as that first day you met.

“Doubt it.”

Andy just hums, moving to step past you but pausing close, invading your space and smirking as you squirm and death glare him.

“Have you ever considered that the best, most strategic thing you could do for your business—and its success—is become my ally?”

When you just press your lips into a firm line and give him a wary look, Andy chuckles.

“Of course you haven’t. Sweetie,” he emphasizes, grinning as you snarl at the nickname. “Enjoy the rest of the event. I know I will.”

And that gif above? That’s Andy making eye contact with you in between guest speakers, riling you up from across the room with a simple wink and smile, because he can.

“You’re much better at cooking than you think,” Nick assured you. “And it really does look and smell and taste amazing.” 

“Taste?” you echoed, giving him a half-hearted glare. “Did you sneak tastes when I was trying to find placemats for the table?”

“I definitely did,” he grinned. “Those mashed potatoes? Well, let's just say you’re lucky I love you, otherwise I’d hoard them all for myself.”

Your inner omega chirped happily at your beta’s praise–especially for something so homemaker-y, which you knew wasn’t exactly a strength of yours. It was probably one of your biggest insecurities actually, especially when it came to finding an alpha. 

But you were trying. You were trying so hard. 

You really wanted everything to be perfect for when Frank arrived home from work. 

It was the very least he deserved for saving you from Omega Control, from being shipped off to a breeder and God knows what kind of misery and abuse would have awaited you then. 

Surely nothing you haven’t already experienced in foster care, a mean little voice spoke up in the back of your mind. 

You closed your eyes against the onslaught of memories that stirred up. At the vivid intrusive thoughts that played against the back of your eyelids at what could have happened if you’d been torn away from Nick, from Frank, from the life you had worked so hard to live as freely and happily as possible. 

You had been so close to losing it all. 

And you still weren’t convinced you hadn’t already lost Frank, for good. 

“Omega?”

The sound of Nick’s concerned voice had you surfacing from the swirl of anxiety filling your head, and you blinked your eyes open, trying to muster a smile for him. 

It had been a really long time since you felt this anxious, this helpless. But you had to shove it all down. All of it. 

You had to finish this perfect dinner for Frank and welcome him home like a perfect omega would and–

The sound of the front door opening and the jangle of keys being tossed on the entryway table had you perking up in alarm. Your eyes flew to the clock above the stove and you gasped, “Oh my god! I didn’t realize how late it was! He’s home! Oh my–”

Your words faded away as Nick framed your face between his hand and tugged you in for a brief, soft kiss. 

“It’s all amazing, and so are you,” he whispered, giving you a soft smile before pulling away. 

A moment later, Frank’s tall figure appeared in the kitchen doorway. His brow was furrowed, his eyes wary as he glanced from the three places settings at the dining table, to you standing over the stove in an apron you had found in the back of the front closet along with the linens that now adorned the table. 

“Why are you wearing that?” Frank snapped, his face darkening in a way that made you whine and stumble back a step.  

“What?” You glanced down at the apron. “I-I didn’t want to make a mess–”

“That isn’t yours. Take it off!” Frank snarled, stalking toward you. 

“Hey, Frank, calm down,” Nick’s voice was as soothing and careful as ever as he stepped in front of you, holding up his hands in the universal gesture of meaning no harm. 

“It’s not hers! It’s…” Frank’s voice broke, his eyes gleaming with a wild kind of grief as he stared at you, then at the apron, like he was gutted.

And you realized that he was, and then why.

Horror dawned at your misstep–at what you had unintentionally done–unearthing something that had belonged to his late wife. 

“Oh god,” you quavered, quickly untying the apron and slipping it off. You folded it carefully, respectfully, your tears already spilling over as you held it out to Frank with trembling fingers. “Frank, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t realize.”

“Hey, let’s all just take a deep breath and calm down,” Nick encouraged, shifting sideways so he could give you a gentle look. “You didn’t know. It was an honest mistake.” He turned back to Frank, who was holding the apron between his hands with the look of utmost sorrow clouding his features. “Frank, she was just trying to do something nice for you. Spent all day cooking a really great dinner–”

“I didn’t fucking ask for any of this,” Frank rasped, shaking his head as he crumbled the apron between his hands. “I didn’t ask for this!” he held it up, his eyes wet with unshed tears and his face flushed in anger, in heartbreak. “I didn’t ask for this!” he swept a hand toward the stove covered in steaming pots as the delicious aroma of the meal you had worked so hard on all day filled the air. 

“Frank,” you wobbled, unsure of what to say but knowing you felt as devastated as he looked. 

He shook his head, jaw clenching. “I can’t… do this. I can’t. I won’t. I won’t.”

And then he turned on his heel and stormed from the kitchen, leaving you and Nick staring after him, utterly devastated for an entirely different reason.

A couple of hours later, Nick tentatively eased open the door leading from the kitchen to the garage. 

He heard soft clinking sounds, and the low hum of classic rock playing from a beat up stereo set on the corner of Frank’s work table. 

The man himself was ducked under the hood of a fully restored 1967 Mustang Fastback. It was royal blue with white rally stripes, and it was gorgeous enough to have Nick whistling before he could really think better of it. 

Frank went rigid, easing away from the car’s engine that didn’t really need any work, but it was just his way to keep himself busy, to keep his mind quiet when he needed it most, to hide.

“What do you want?” Frank grunted, looking tense as his grease-stained fingers twitched at his sides. 

“Nothing, just thought I’d bring you one of these.” Nick held up a beer in each hand, one for him and one for Frank. 

Frank’s eyes landed on the proffered beer and lingered long enough that Nick exhaled in relief. He moved closer, a soft, hopeful smile curling his lips as he held out the beer to Frank. 

After a long, tense moment, Frank swiped the bottle from Nick’s grip, taking a long pull before turning away and ducking back under the hood of his car. 

“I know you don’t want us here,” Nick murmured, inching closer before taking a tentative seat on a nearby crate. “I’m sorry that we’re encroaching on your space, on your home–”

“It’s not a home,” Frank said sharply before taking another gulp of his beer. “It hasn’t been a home for a long time. I don’t do homes, not anymore.”

“Right,” Nick breathed, his features softening, looking so very, very sad for the rigid alpha standing a few feet away. 

Frank turned to set his beer aside to free up his hand and caught the way Nick was looking at him. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t pity me. I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity, Frank. It’s empathy.”

“I don’t want that either,” Frank gritted, moving to grab a wrench from the toolbox placed on the mobile cart between them. He pointed it at Nick, his eyes hard. “Don’t fucking feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t,” Nick said earnestly. “I feel sorry for what you went through, and I’m sorry for… for all of this. How messy it all turned out. You deserve better, so much better–”

“Christ, can you just be quiet?” Frank scoffed. 

Nick snapped his mouth shut, his gaze falling to the floor as he took a small sip from his beer. He was trying so hard to smooth things over–for you, for himself, too, and for Frank. 

He so desperately wanted to see the potential that you had so joyfully spoken about for the past few months. 

All three of you had been through so much in different ways, and it was poetic, in a sense, that the Universe had brought you all together. 

He just knew that if Frank would let some of that emotional armor crumble, if you two could just get through to him–earn his forgiveness–there was a chance that this could be something special. 

The three of you, you could be a pack. 

You could be each other’s home.

“Hand me that grease rag behind you,” Frank muttered, making Nick sit up at attention. 

Blinking in surprise, that Frank had not only asked him for something but hadn’t kicked him out yet either, Nick twisted to the workbench behind him, plucking said grease rag from the surface and holding it out to Frank. 

Frank’s eyes met his for a brief second–enough for Nick to feel the spark of something between them–and if the way Frank quickly looked away and his shoulders tensed was any indicator, the alpha had felt it, too. 

Suppressing a soft smile, Nick watched Frank work, familiar with what he was tinkering with since he was the one who maintained your van. And before Frank could reach for the next tool he needed, Nick had scooped it up and had it held out. 

Again, Frank’s eyes found the beta’s, some of the icy glint fading into something else–curioristy, perhaps. A touch of confusion, too, and just the tiniest, tiniest glimmer of what could have been admiration. 

Regardless, whatever it was, it had Nick’s belly swooping and his chest fluttering with a tentative kind of hope. 

The next morning, Frank was intent on getting out of the house to head to work before either you or Nick emerged from the guest room you were sharing. But as he went to pass by said guest room, the sound of your sharp, raised voice made him pause. 

Frowning, because he had never heard you sound so irritated, Frank hovered just outside the door, which was cracked open, listening in on the conversation between you and Nick. 

“Please,” your voice was softer this time as you took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Just, stop.” 

“I’m not trying to upset you,” Nick swore as he crouched before where you were curled up on the window seat overlooking the side yard. “I’m just worried. You’re having nightmares again–”

“So?” you challenged, your features set and stubborn as you met his gaze. 

Nick sighed. “You haven’t had nightmares like this in a really long time.” 

“It’s nothing,” you insisted, feeling more tired than even Nick knew. “I’m fine.”

Nick’s touch was so painfully gentle as he held your hand, his thumb trailing back and forth over your knuckles. “It’s okay if you’re not, considering everything you’ve been through.”

“I’m fine,” you repeated, your exhaustion seeping into your voice now as you tried so hard to blink back the tears gathering. 

Nick’s hold on your hand shifted, until he was guiding your palm to the center of his chest, where you could feel the steady rhythm of his heart beating beneath your touch. He leaned into you more fully, his free hand lifting to cradle the side of your face, making your gaze meet his. 

“You haven’t told me anything about what happened at Omega Control,” he looked pained by this, his eyes flickering between yours, looking more worried than you had ever seen, so much so that you couldn’t hold his gaze any longer and looked away instead. “Usually you tell me everything.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about it ever again,” you whispered, turning away from Nick and curling in on yourself as you fixed your gaze outside–both yearning to be out there but terrified of being caught again. “We should keep the past in the past.”

At the sound of Nick’s disappointed sigh, Frank eased away from the door, frowning at the way you had echoed his own words to you, about keeping the past in the past. 

Because everything inside of him–especially his inner alpha who was listlessly hovering beneath the surface, yearning to comfort you, to get to know Nick more–was telling him that you needed to talk about what happened. That it wasn’t a weight–or fear–that you should carry on your own. 

Frank watched as his hand moved toward the doorknob, trembling slightly. Every rusty caretaker instinct inside of him was screaming at him to walk through that door, sweep you up against his chest, and soothe you with his alpha purr until you felt safe enough to tell him and Nick what had happened. 

It would be so easy. All he had to do was press the door open, make his presence known, and just… allow things to go from there. 

But instead, Frank took a step away from the door, then another, until he was jogging down the steps, swiping up his keys and briefcase from the entryway table, and shoving outside into the bright morning sunshine. 

And the whole time he walked to his car, he thought the same thing over and over–that it wasn’t his place to take care of you, to protect you, that you had Nick for that. 

You didn’t need him.

You didn’t.

It was nearly midnight once Frank finally returned home. He was exhausted, and had spent the hours after work at his favorite dive bar, nursing a couple of beers and eating bad frozen appetizers for dinner when all he really wanted was to go home. 

But after this morning, what he had almost done…what he had wanted to do…

It felt safer to just stay away. 

So it was like some kind of twisted, cosmic joke, that as soon as Frank stepped inside the house, he was instantly enveloped in your sweet, addictive omega scent. 

Only there was a sour note to your divine smell, one that instantly had Frank as alert as his inner alpha. 

Because that sour scent meant that you were distressed–terrified. 

Before he realized what he was doing, Frank was dashing into the living room, only to pull up short. He wasn’t sure what he had expected to find–but it wasn’t you curled up on the sofa, asleep and visibly trembling as you whimpered at whatever nightmare had you caught in its dark web.

A beat later, Frank registered the distant sound of the shower running, which explained why you were by yourself in this state, and why Nick wasn’t there to soothe you. 

But you so obviously needed soothing in this moment as you gave a choked sob, your features twisting in the utmost distress as you curled in on yourself tighter. 

Frank was across the room in three long strides, before he even realized he was moving. 

The need to calm you was like a visceral thing rippling over every inch of him–clawing at him from the inside out–and it was all he could focus on as he knelt on the floor beside you and tentatively reached out to touch the crown of your head. 

“Shhh, omega,” Frank rumbled, his voice the softest it had been with you in weeks as he gently caressed your hair. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

This close now, Frank could see the glimmer of tear-tracks along your cheeks, how tense your body was as you laid in the fetal position and tried to make yourself as small as possible. 

Frank murmured your name, hesitating for a second before he held his wrist gland beneath your nose so you could breathe in his alpha scent. “You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re okay now.”

You shuddered hard, your brows furrowing in your sleep, a soft whimper falling from your lips as you shifted and pressed your nose against Frank’s wrist without even knowing it. You were just desperately seeking the sudden source of your comfort–of the familiar–of something, no, someone who made you feel safe. 

“There you go,” Frank praised softly, resuming his pets along your head as he watched your body go lax and the rigid tension slowly ease from your frame. “Such a good omega.” 

Frank’s voice broke, his breath shaky as he watched you sleep, as he really looked at you for the first time in weeks–since everything had happened. 

You looked so tired, and so small. 

So vulnerable. 

And it made him ache. It made him want. It made him yearn. It made all of his instincts–both man and alpha–stir up and rise within him in a way that terrified him. 

Because he never thought he would feel this way again. 

Frank never thought that he would care about someone so deeply again. 

In fact, he had tried so fucking hard to avoid it at all costs, because he knew what it felt like to lose it all. To lose the person you loved most. To lose the future you had been so hopeful for. To lose your entire family, your home, everything that made you who were in one awful, tragic fell swoop. 

He’d had it all–the love, the future, the life, the home. And he was supposed to protect them at all costs.   

And he had failed. 

He had failed as a man, as an alpha–as a husband and as a soon-to-be father. Frank had failed in a way that still haunted his every waking moment five years later. 

So when he looked at you, when he felt what he felt for you, when he got caught in Nick’s soft, warm gaze and wanted to stay there–it terrified him in a way that made him want to turn his back on it all–on everything. 

But he couldn’t find it in himself to do that right now. 

Not when you clung to his wrist in your sleep and a quiet chirp spilled past your lips. Not when the sour note faded from your scent and was replaced by the warm, spicy tones of your contentment and relief. 

All Frank could do was watch you, convinced that in this moment, he was the only thing keeping your nightmares at bay, and that was enough for his protective instinct to override his sheer panic. 

It was enough to have the rest of the world fade away as he focused on soothing you into a peaceful sleep, completely unaware that Nick stood in the doorway, having witnessed this entire tender, protective display.

And finally getting to see with his own eyes the kind of alpha that Frank Adler could be, and why you were so completely taken with him.

OH EM GEEEEE. I’m kind of in emotional shambles right now, ngl. This story feels so messy lol, but I’m also kind of in love with it anyway. I just want them all to be happy and loved 🥺

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It was one of your favorite rooms in the manor, and not just because you spent so much time here with Andy. The decor was traditional–and expensive–a myriad of dark woods and butter-smooth leather. The walls were lined with built-in shelves, stacked with books and dotted with expensive pieces of decor, and even some antiques that probably cost more money than your brain could comprehend. 

But your favorite personal touch were the two pieces of framed artwork hanging behind Andy’s desk. They were abstract and colorful, and each time you got swept away staring at them, you swore your eyes gleaned a completely new shape or scene or meaning behind them. 

Andy once told you the story of how he had won them in a bidding war at an antique auction after months of tracking down any artwork he could find by his late mother’s favorite artist. 

It seemed like such a small thing about himself that he had shared with you–but it showed the kind of man that Andy Barber was. 

Devoted. Determined. Strategic. Patient when it counted most.

And never willing to give up. 

You smiled as you slowly made your way to where he sat hunched over his executive desk, still deep in his own work despite the approach of early evening. 

It was traits like his devotion and patience that had finally won you over completely–despite how gun-shy you had been at the mere idea of anything more with Andy. 

With anyone, really, given your history.

But even you couldn’t deny that the more you got to know Andy, the more time you had spent with him, the more the thought of something more had taken root in your brain and began to flourish.

And now here you were. 

Clocking your proximity, Andy finally pulled his eyes from his computer screen, straightening in his leather-back chair. His gaze softened as it landed on you, his lips tilting up at the corners into your favorite smile. 

“All done for the day?” he asked, pushing his seat back and making room for you, because he knew you well. 

So Andy didn’t bat an eye when you nodded in response to his question before slowly sinking to the floor, until you were sat between his feet and resting your cheek against his knee with a soft sound of contentment.

“I rescheduled your meetings for tomorrow to next week, like you asked,” you murmured, your eyes fluttering as Andy reached out and began to gently pet your head. “And I ordered flowers for Ari’s mother for her birthday next week, too.” 

“Thank you, honey,” Andy murmured, his fingers teasing along the shell of your ear and making you shiver. “You take such good care of me, of all of us. I bet you even reminded Ari of his mother’s birthday, just to be safe.”

Your cheeks warmed, because Andy was right, and his tone was so fond colored with the kind of tenderness–just for you–that made your insides swoop and flutter. You hid your face against his leg, your insides fluttering some more at the sound of Andy’s quiet, husky laugh. 

But speaking of Ari, something tickled your brain, something that made you frown as you tilted your face up and opened your eyes, your gaze shining with worry. 

“How are things with the art gallery?” you asked. “Is the business owner next door still causing you trouble?”

Andy’s eyes danced at the mention of the woman who owned the tea and bookshop next door to his new business. “She’s nothing to fret over, honey. Ari’s taking care of her.”

At that, you nervously gnawed on your lower lip. As much as you had come to accept the fact that Andy was a mob boss–and sometimes had to do ruthless, unsavory things–he treated you so well, and was so loving, that it wasn’t an issue for you. 

In fact, it provided a sense of security that you had never known until Andy–the fact that you now had such a powerful and competent protector.

But still… you didn’t like the idea of Ari hurting anyone, of the things you were sure he had done and was capable of doing. No matter how respectful and protective he was of you. 

You didn’t wish his dark intentions on anyone, even someone who had proven to be a thorn in Andy’s side from day one. 

But then again, given the rivals and competition he usually dealt with, this woman’s antics were almost… charming. 

“Don’t look so worried,” Andy hummed, gently caressing your cheek. “He’s dealing with her in a way I’m quite certain she enjoys.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Oh.” Your eyes widened enough to make Andy laugh. “Well… good. I know the gallery is your pet project and the first business that you’re genuinely excited for.”

“And it’s the perfect front for arms dealing, which drives the most revenue, so really it’s a win win.”

You hummed in agreement, once again sinking against Andy as he continued his light touches and caresses. His fingers danced along the tension in your shoulders, moving slower and pressing firmly, until you were making a quiet sound of relief as the knots of tension seemed to melt away into nothing.

“You slept fitfully last night,” Andy said. 

You nodded, leaning into the cradle of Andy’s palm that now rested against your cheek. He tilted your face up so he could get a better look at you, observing the shadows beneath your eyes with a small frown and furrowed brow. 

“More nightmares?” he asked.

This time you hesitated, but only briefly, before nodding again.

You didn’t hesitate because you wanted to hide your struggles from Andy, or because you were embarrassed he had of course noticed the state of you, but more so just because you hated to think about your nightmares, and the things from your past that caused them. 

At your admission, and the way your shoulders hunched and curled just a little, Andy’s touch instantly became more intentional. His hand moved to grip the back of your neck, squeezing in that way he knew melted your brain and made all of your anxiety dissipate. 

Of their own accord, your hands lifted so you could cling to Andy’s thighs, pressing your forehead against his knee and nearly curling around his leg like a koala–greedy for his touch. 

Even after all this time, you still couldn’t believe it, the way Andy’s touch affected you–in a good way. That you loved it and often needed it now. 

Because there had been a time when you thought that you would never enjoy the touch of another again…

18 Months Ago

“Another month in the green,” Andy said, sounding pleased as he scrolled through the financial slides on the tablet he held. 

“Bet you’re fucking tickled that you went all in on the club with me,” Lloyd Hansen preened, sinking back in his desk chair and giving Andy a shit-eating grin. “I told you this would be a money maker. There’s nothing like it for miles and miles.”

Andy hummed, setting the tablet on Lloyd’s desk, his face serious as he eyed the other man. “And I bet you’re fucking tickled that I gave you permission to set up shop in my territory.”

Lloyd rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, you made me work for it and go in halfsies with you, so.”

“You’re welcome,” Andy smirked. 

Lloyd scoffed, opening his mouth to likely fire back something Andy would make him regret, but before he could speak a word, his office door flung open and you were forcefully shoved inside. 

You squealed as Lloyd’s head of club security–the brute–gave you another shove that had you nearly face planting into the thick, expensive carpet. 

“Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t to be interrupted?” Lloyd snarled at said brute. 

“Sorry, boss,” he grunted, giving you a lethal glare, “but she caused a scene out on the floor.”

Lloyd’s eyes snapped to you so quickly that you flinched. 

“Did she?” The chill in his voice had you cowering in dread as the security guy quickly ducked out of the office, pulling the door closed as he went and shutting you away with your prickly boss.

You were too terrified of Lloyd, and too distressed after what had happened out on the night club floor, to notice the stranger sitting across from Lloyd’s desk. 

“This is the thanks I get for hiring your cry baby ass?” Lloyd hissed as he rose from his seat.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Hansen,” you quavered as he rounded his desk and stalked closer. “But… I, I told you, I don’t like to be touched and one of the men out there, he grabbed me and–”

Lloyd didn’t stop his approach until he stood toe-to-toe with you, causing you to visibly tremble as you hugged yourself tightly and kept your head ducked low, your eyes fixed on your feet. 

“You’re in a fucking night club, toots, dressed like that, might I add–“ Lloyd scoffed.

“You made me–“ you countered weakly.

“It’s called a work uniform.”

You thought that was a stretch as you eyed your outfit which wasn’t much more than a pair of metallic booty shorts and a sorry excuse for a shirt that nearly had your breasts spilling out the top. 

And you weren’t even one of the cage dancers, you were just a server. 

“You told me you needed this job, that you were desperate for work,” Lloyd growled.

At that, your head lifted, your gaze frantic as it met Lloyd’s. “I am, I do! Please, I’m sorry–“

Lloyd shook his head. “I can’t have you out there causing a scene anytime the clientele gets a little handsy. That’s part of the job. I mean, what the fuck did you think you were getting into working here?”

“Please, sir, I need this job. I don’t have anything else or anyone or–”

“Oh boo fucking hoo,” Lloyd sneered, dipping his head close and making you recoil. “I gave you a chance. I was more than generous. You get paid well. You get benefits. And this is how you thank me?”

Your chest hitched, a sob working its way up to your throat, because he was right. You had been so obviously out of your depth when you had shown up here for your interview, but you had also been beyond desperate for the gig, for a steady income, to survive. 

And now you had gone and fucked it all up because you couldn’t just do what all the other servers did and acclimate to your environment. 

“Get out,” Lloyd enunciated slowly before straightening. “And don’t come back.”

“No! Please!” Your voice was pitched with hysteria as panic flared within you. 

Because you couldn’t lose this job.  

“I can… I can do something else! Anything else!” you cried, trailing behind Lloyd as he turned his back on you and sauntered toward his desk. “I can tend bar or or do inventory or–”

He whirled on you suddenly, making you squeak as you walked right into him and then sharply drew back as if you’d been burnt. 

There was a mean glint in Lloyd’s eyes as they slowly trailed over you, in a familiar way that had your belly sinking and your skin crawling. 

“The only other use I have for you wouldn’t be ideal since you don’t like being touched, cupcake.” Lloyd made a lewd gesture with his fingers and tongue to get his point across, giving a mean laugh as you hugged yourself tightly and stumbled away from him. “That’s what I thought. I have no use for you. You’re useless. So get fucking gone.”

He turned away, clearly dismissing you, his words reverberating in your head loud enough to drown out all of your panicked thoughts. 

Because you were useless.  

Your tears finally fell as your devastation consumed you. You would be out of your shitty apartment within weeks if you couldn’t make rent. You’d be back on the streets, needing to do whatever it took just to get by. 

You shuddered with dread just thinking about it. Especially in this city. 

But you had nowhere else to go. No one to turn to. 

You had nothing. 

You were nothing. 

“GET OUT!” Lloyd’s holler made you snap back to the present moment.

You physically jumped at his raised voice, whimpering before turning on your heel to scurry out of his office, but a quiet, unfamiliar baritone made you freeze in place. 

“Wait.”

Lloyd huffed. “Really, Barber? You’re undermining me in my own club?”

“Our club. And I’m not undermining you. Just because you don’t have a use for her, Hansen, doesn’t mean I don’t.”

The tiniest, weakest flare of hope flickered within you as you turned and looked at the man who spoke, not nearly as bold in your gaze as he was. 

Even though he was seated, you could tell that he was tall, his posture straight and confident, his shoulders broad beneath the dark suit jacket he wore. His skin was fair and flawless, his face shadowed with a dark, meticulously kept beard that matched the floofy swoop of his brown hair. 

But it was his dark blue eyes that made your own gaze linger, and widen.

Because you realized that the stranger wasn’t watching you with a lecherous look like most men you’d come into contact with. His gaze was shining with something new and unfamiliar–sympathy, and calculation. 

“Take her out to the car,” he nodded, and another man you didn’t even notice until now materialized from the dark corner of the office. 

He was the biggest, broadest man in the room. His hair dark and long enough to curl around his blue, denim shirt collar. He was so big, in fact, that when he stepped toward you, you whimpered again, cowering at the sheer size of him.  

“He won’t hurt you,” the stranger with the pretty blue eyes promised. “Go on. We’ll speak once I’m done here.”

You swallowed hard–nervously–but you were nodding before you even realized it, your body picking up on the softness in his tone and gaze before your brain did. 

It made zero sense, especially given your history, but you trusted him, instinctively. 

So you turned, grateful when the man you assumed was his bodyguard didn’t touch you as he corralled you out of the office and down the back hallway of the club. 

Once you were tucked away in the dark, luxurious SUV parked out back, your mind started to spiral again, all the frantic noise inside your head blaring on a loop.

What were you doing? 

You didn’t even know this man. 

If he was in business with Lloyd, you couldn’t imagine he was much better. 

But then you remembered the softness in his voice when he spoke to you. In his gaze when he looked at you. 

He saw your fear and desperation and it seemed like maybe he actually wanted to help you.

Lord knew you could use that right about now. 

You were startled from your thoughts as the back door opened and the stranger appeared, climbing in beside you. You noticed how he seemed intentional in keeping some distance between you–in respecting your personal space. 

It was such a far cry from Lloyd and pretty much every other man you had ever met, that you felt a lump swell in your throat, and you had to look away from his intent gaze to blink the tears from your own. 

“What’s your name?” he asked gently. 

You took a breath, peeking over at him as you murmured your name. 

He gave you a small smile, introducing himself in return. “I’m Andy Barber, it’s a pleasure to meet you, despite the circumstances.”

Your lips trembled into an almost hopeful smile.

“You need work?”

You nodded fervently, so much so that you made yourself dizzy as you breathed, “Yes, sir.”

“Do you have any skills or notable experience?” Andy asked.

And just like that–you wilted. 

Because you didn’t. You barely had an education, and your resume was laughable–just a string of odd jobs that never lasted long, and the kind of years-long gap that would make any eyebrow raise. 

The only thing you had to offer was what Lloyd alluded to back in his office. 

Yourself. Your body. 

But you couldn’t do that. You wouldn’t. Not again. Not even if it was your choice this time. 

You wouldn’t, you wouldn’t, you wouldn’t.

Andy’s quiet voice broke through your internal spiral–your mindless mental chant–as he told you, “You know, I didn’t start out at the top. I came from nothing. But someone with means saw potential in me. They gave me a chance. So I’m willing to do the same for you.”

And there it was again, that tiny flicker of hope sparking to life in the deep recesses of your tarnished soul. 

“Why?” you couldn’t help but ask. “You don’t even know me.”

“I’m very good at reading people, and I think you’re someone capable of loyalty, and that I prize most above all. Skills can be taught, knowledge can be gleaned, but loyalty? Trust? Those are innate and of the utmost value, especially in my world.”

You looked at Andy again and couldn't help but shiver. His poise, his confidence, his direct gaze. 

You weren’t quite sure who he was, but you knew that you had somehow stumbled your way into the path of someone important. Someone powerful. 

Someone who maybe, if you earned his trust, if you made him proud, he would keep you safe. 

And that, to you, was of the utmost value.

So you took a deep, shaky breath before whispering, “I can be loyal.” You swallowed before continuing, “And I can work real hard, no matter what you ask of me,” your voice faltered. “Except… I don’t… please, I’m not–“

Despite your fumbling, Andy seemed to understand where your mind had gone. What fear overtook you now. 

You saw him reach for you–perhaps his intention was a comforting touch–but he must have remembered you didn’t like to be touched, because he pulled up short and his hand retreated, resting on his thigh instead. 

“That isn’t what this is,” he said gently. 

“Okay,” you squeaked, sinking beneath the weight of your relief. “Good. T-thank you.”

You peeked over at him again, feeling unsure but also a little mesmerized. Because Andy Barber was beyond handsome. In fact, he was beautiful, but his eyes… your gaze couldn’t stop returning to his and the softness that resided there. 

No one had ever looked at you that way before. 

Without vile or cruel intentions aimed your way. Without malice or greed. Without the promise of pain, or worse. So much worse.

“Well, this seems pretty cut and dry to me, and genuinely the most pleasant interview process I’ve ever experienced,” Andy said. “So, you’re hired.” He winked, looking delighted when that got a quiet giggle out of you. 

But the sound of your amusement cut off abruptly as the car began to move, and you jolted upright, panicked. 

“Relax,” Andy soothed, his fingers twitching against his thigh like he was once again resisting the urge to reach out with a comforting touch. “We’re just driving you home, and then you can come to my place tomorrow and we can discuss how you can best support me,” Andy explained. “Where do you live?” 

You didn’t respond for a moment, not so much because you didn’t trust him–didn’t know him–but because you were embarrassed by the answer. But after a beat, you gave it to him anyway. 

Andy didn’t wrinkle his nose in disgust or make a judgmental remark like Lloyd had when he read your address on your new hire paperwork. He just relayed the address to his bodyguard, who was driving, before sitting back in his seat. 

“Would you be open to relocating?” Andy asked, clearly taking you by surprise. “If I have you assisting me daily, it makes the most sense for you to live on my property.”

“I…” you hesitated, not wanting to spoil this gift so soon after receiving it. 

Especially since you had no other prospects. 

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you said carefully. 

Andy’s eyes sparkled at your diplomatic answer. “You wouldn’t be. Most of my staff have quarters at my manor. Like Ari,” he nodded toward the beefy man in the driver’s seat. “Same with my personal chef and butler.”

“Oh,” you murmured, nervously wringing your hands together in your lap. 

Because it seemed like Andy had a whole staff under his employ. Not to mention a manor.

Again, you couldn’t help but wonder who he was, whose orbit you had been drawn into. 

“Can I think about it, please?” You asked, not wanting to give up all of your minimal autonomy at once. 

Not wanting to make what could be a very life-changing decision before you knew Andy better.

“Of course,” he replied easily. “I can show you around tomorrow to help inform your decision. How does that sound?”

“Very generous.”

Andy shot you a small smile, and your belly swooped at the sight before you quickly looked away, your leg jiggling with nerves as Ari steered the SUV onto your street. 

The vehicle eased to a stop at the curb just outside of your dingy apartment building, and you found yourself unable to look at Andy–to risk seeing the pity in his eyes.  

“Here, why don’t we exchange numbers?” Andy suggested, fishing his cell phone from his inner jacket pocket. 

You pulled your own dated device from your back pocket, quickly fulfilling his request before clutching your phone between your sweaty palms. 

“I’ll send a driver to pick you up tomorrow at eight thirty, does that work for you?” Andy asked.

“Yes, but you don’t need to,“ you objected. “I can take the bus, or–”

“It’s a safety precaution on my end,” Andy assured you. “I don’t give out my home address to many. Not in my line of work.” 

He winked to make light of something serious, and you once again found yourself wondering what–exactly–was Andy’s line of work? 

What were you getting yourself into?

But you just as quickly shook that thought away, because this opportunity–Andy’s kindness–it was all you had, and it was truly a gift. 

No one had ever done something like this for you before, had given you a chance, a helping hand in a moment when you needed it most. 

And you wouldn’t waste it. 

So you nodded, mustering a smile despite your anxiety as you told Andy, “I’ll be ready tomorrow at eight thirty.”

“Perfect,” he smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

He watched as you opened the car door and slipped outside, hesitating before you turned back to him. Because a new feeling was overriding your nerves now.

Gratitude. 

You felt so very thankful for this unexpected opportunity. For Andy’s empathy and belief in you.  

You weren’t used to getting help or lucky breaks. 

You weren’t used to anyone caring about you in any way at all. 

It must have been written all over your face too, all these thoughts swirling inside of you, because Andy’s features softened as he watched you, another one of those small smiles cursing his lips. 

“Go get some rest, honey, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Your belly swooped at the term of endearment, and you lingered for a moment, wishing you were good with words, that you could articulate how grateful you were, how much this meant to you. But you finally settled on a very earnest, “Thank you, Mr. Barber.”

“No need to thank me. And call me ‘Andy.’”

Your insides fluttered at his request, and you nodded. “Goodnight, Andy.”

“Goodnight,” he echoed, watching your retreat.

Despite the way you hurried up the front steps and into the entryway, the SUV seemed in no rush to depart, instead idling at the curb until you were safely inside.

You scurried up the four flights of stairs to your unit in a daze, your brain trying to process everything that happened tonight. You were out of your new job at the club, but it seemed like something better could be awaiting you. 

Thanks to Andy. 

You were terrified to really get your hopes up, because so rarely did things go your way, but this time, weirdly, the excitement–and anticipation to see Andy again–was something you just couldn’t shake… 

“Come here, honey.”

The sound of Andy’s voice brought you back to the present moment, your hazy mind surfacing from one of the few pleasant memories you had. 

Blinking owlishly, you glanced up to find Andy watching you in soft amusement, his big hand held out toward you. 

You slipped your hand into his, allowing Andy to pull you first to your feet, then into his lap. 

His arms circled you in an instant, tugging you close as his lips pressed a kiss to your forehead. As you went pliant against him, resting your cheek on his shoulder, he murmured, “We’re going away for a long weekend.”

Your head snapped up in surprise. “We are?” 

Andy smiled as he caressed your cheek. “Well, as long as you want to, but it’s why I had you clear my calendar tomorrow. I think some peace, quiet, and nature will do you good.”

You couldn’t suppress your giddy smile if you tried. “We’re going to the lake house then?”

Andy’s smile was more of a grin as he nodded, “I know it’s your favorite.”

“Thank you, Andy!” you squealed, nearly bouncing in his lap as you hugged him and pressed a kiss to his beardy cheek. 

Andy’s eyes twinkled at your sweet excitement. As you went to pull away, his fingers caught your chin, staying your retreat as his eyes ignited in a way that had a surge of warmth pooling low in your belly.

Slowly, his gaze meeting yours and not shying away, Andy pulled you in for a real kiss. The kind of kiss that made it impossible to catch your breath because you could feel with each and every press of Andy’s lips against yours how much he loved you, cherished you, wanted you. 

You were nearly panting once he pulled away, your eyes dazed enough to make him smile. 

“You never need to thank me for taking care of you,” Andy hummed, touching his lips to your forehead. “For treating you the way you deserve.” His next kiss warmed your cheek, then he placed a final kiss on the other before pulling away at last. “Why don’t you go pack?”

“I will, in a little while, but first, can we just…” You sank against him, loosely clinging to him as you nuzzled your cheek against his chest. “Stay like this for a little while?” 

“We can stay this way for as long as you want,” Andy promised, his big hand touching your back before settling into a slow, soothing rhythm–up and down, up and down–making you go even more pliant against him.

Humming your content, you allowed your eyes to flutter shut, truly feeling your exhaustion for the first time all day. 

But you felt something else alongside it, something that–once upon a time, but not so long ago–you never would have thought you would ever feel… 

As Andy’s soft, musky scent filled your nose, as his warm, reassuring touch smoothed up and down your back, as you tucked your face against the crook of his neck and breathed in as deep, you felt truly and unequivocally safe.

🥹 You guysss. I love them SO hard. I would be so beyond grateful and delighted if you took a moment to drop me a comment or reblog with your thoughts. Pretty please! With a naked Andy and Ari on top?! 😘

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Please take a moment to comment or reblog. It means a lot to hear from my readers after sharing a story that I put so much love into. Serial liking without engagement is the quickest way to kill my writing motivation, so please don’t do that. It only takes a moment to show a little love. Thank you 🙏🏻

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Andy can practically see the smoke coming out of your ears. And since you’re currently chatting with a few business council members, he knows you have no choice but to behave and play nice when he walks up to you and acts so friendly and familiar with you.

Saying your name with warmth and pulling you in to kiss your cheek, just able to stifle his belly laugh when he sees your eye twitch as you paste this terribly fake and pained smile on your face.

Sensing Andy’s importance, the business council folks are all aflutter and insist you introduce them to Andy, and when they talk about how nice it must be to be new neighbors, Andy just smiles so big as he nods along.

“She was so beyond welcoming, I couldn’t have asked for a lovelier and more respectful neighbor.”

Andy does finally laugh once it’s just the two of you, and you give him the nastiest stink eye he’s ever received as you hiss, “How dare you infest a place filled with honest, humble, non-murderous business owners with your organized crime cooties.”

“You have me all wrong, you know,” Andy smiles at you, his gaze looking as amused as that first day you met.

“Doubt it.”

Andy just hums, moving to step past you but pausing close, invading your space and smirking as you squirm and death glare him.

“Have you ever considered that the best, most strategic thing you could do for your business—and its success—is become my ally?”

When you just press your lips into a firm line and give him a wary look, Andy chuckles.

“Of course you haven’t. Sweetie,” he emphasizes, grinning as you snarl at the nickname. “Enjoy the rest of the event. I know I will.”

And that gif above? That’s Andy making eye contact with you in between guest speakers, riling you up from across the room with a simple wink and smile, because he can.