#mayansmc

Bishop- "Its a small burn, it barely hurts" you tell him again. He hears you but is too lost in his mind. "Its doesn't matter. I should have been more careful. These things kill" continued Bishop as he frantically tossed all his cigarettes and cigars into the trash. "You hate the smell anyway. I should have stopped years ago" he continued before looking around the clubhouse at all the others smoking as if he hadn't almost caught his wife on fire. "Effective immediately no smoking!" he bellowed as he grabbed the fire extinguisher as you shook your head.

Bottles- He had been trying to impress you. You made him nervous and he had no idea how to tell you he liked you. Which is what led him to trying to show you a magic trick. Unfortunately he had messed up when he saw you smiling at him and he had squirted tequila and lemon directly into your eyes instead of into the cup you were holding. He was barely keeping himself from crying as he watched EZ help you flush your eyes out.

Coco- He had just been trying out a different technique in the bed room. He hadn't meant to make you guys into a sex sent me to the er episode. The nurse and doctor certainly had not won him any points when they said going forward more tongue and less teeth would be best. Glancing over at you on the couch with an ice pack on your lady parts he tried again to apologize. "My bad-" . "Tell it to my clit you almost ripped off" you snapped cutting him off . "Alright then" replied Coco with a shrug before moving to the floor between your legs. "Yo my apologies" he said staring diirectly at your crotch.

Creeper- He's worried you will leave him. The whole time its all he can think about as Angel drives you guys to the hospital. He can't even plead his case, he knows he's guilty. Accident or not. He should not be forgiven for harming his woman. "Guess its safe to say I wont be running away from you anytime soon" you manage to croak out as you try not to look at your swollen and wrongly turned ankle. Creeper frowns as Angel hits a bump in the road jolting you. "Careful" he snaps. Angel scoffs and mutters something only you hear making you laugh. "What was that?" demands Creeper. "I said next time you want to be kinky maybe play were wolf coming through the bedroom window and not the damn woods" replied Angel as he sent Creeper a grin.

EZ- He busies himself. Trying to keep his mind off how your broken hand is his fault. You had been on him about how the trailer needed repairs. The door swung shut to fast and the steps were getting rusty. He had agreed and said he would fix them.... he just never seemed to have time between the club, you and his pops. Now though as you sat in an inflatable pool drinking a margarita with your hand in a bright pink cast he had time.

Gilly- He feels so much shame. You always called him your big teddy bear. Told him how much you loved being wrapped in his arms especially when he gave you surprise hugs from the back. He didn't realize you had a knife. The morning had started off like any other in your household. Your daughter was set at the table eating her cereal as you worked on cutting open a pack of bacon. One minute you were struggling to cut through the packaging as your daughter talked about going to the park and the next you were watching blood pour onto your kitchen floor as your daughter screamed and Gilly yelled.

Guero-He is furious with himself. Honestly if he could he would sprout a second him just to beat the shit out of it. He's snappy as everyone tells him it was an accident and to not be so hard on himself. Even your words can't soothe him. He vows never to play around with you again as the little old lady at the grocery store glares at him. "Its not my first black eye" you state as you toss candy bars into the cart. "Barely felt it, like being punched by a sad cloud" you continue as you watch him roll his eyes. "Yeah that why you were crying so much?" he dead panned making you laugh.

Manny-He's silent and methodical as he checks you over. His eyes and brow furrowed in worry as he notes the flinch as his fingers trace over a sore spot on your back. You whine and his heart feels like you stabbed him. He's about to apologize again but you cut him off with a joke. "You know when I said I wanted you to break my back I meant it as a metaphor for sex not for you to literally break my back". Manny closes his eyes as he chuckles quietly. "Guess I gotta be a Doctor Manny now huh mami?". "Only if you give me an injection" you reply tossing him a glance over your shoulder.

Return to Headcanon Masterlist Page

Angel lied there silently, practically ignoring Y/n’s presence. That’s how it’s been the past couple of days, she tries talking to him earning small grunts and hums in response, so she then just stops talking and he doesn’t care.

She lied beside him staring up at the ceiling for a moment. This had to stop, she couldn’t keep doing this anymore, giving him her all and getting nothing back.

“You’re losing me..” She muttered hoping he could hear her.

He did but he didn’t say anything, he couldn’t. It was like he was frozen in place, the last thing he wanted was to lose her. He loves her more than anything, so why couldn’t he say that? Why couldn’t he hold her and apologize, telling her how much he loves her?

The man sighs as he leans his elbows on the wooden counter, listening to the wheezing of the coffee machine as hot black liquid spurts into the mug. The sound was tickling his nerves in a certain—very annoying—way. It didn’t make him even slightly angry before the bath incident, but now he just can’t stand it—it makes his head hurt. 

He slams his fist onto the counter, cursing loudly. The coffee spills over the edge of the mug and barely misses his hand. 

“I should fuckin’ do something,” he murmurs to himself through clenched teeth. Since when was he afraid to go after a woman he loves? He’s never been a goddamn pussy. What changed?

You are just so different than anyone Angel’s ever been with. He doesn’t want to lose you—can’t fucking stand the thought of you walking away. He has to do something. 

He drops Maverick off at Felipe’s house—gives them some abuelo-nieto time while he drives over to the bar where you work. It’s a shithole—a very suspicious one at that—yet the parking lot in front is almost full. The neon sign above the door flashes on and off when Angel slams the door of his car shut. Jesus, it’s gonna give someone a headache or a fucking seizure.

Entering this building was probably one of the worst mistakes in life—the man thinks as he’s greeted by a couple almost going at it by the entrance. The skinny blond dude has his hand down the poor girl’s skimpy skirt as she moans loudly in his ear, hips rolling into his palm. Fucking disgusting. 

He was doing the same exact shit back in the day when he was dumb, reckless, and didn’t care about anyone other than himself. But now the view makes him almost gag. 

The brunet pushes past the lovebirds—or rather fuckbirds—through the narrow hallway to the main area. The dimmed red lights flashing above his head and the music that makes every wall pulse with the beat make it seem like more of a club rather than a bar. He’s surprised when he takes a few more steps and a woman dressed in booty shorts with her whole tits out passes by him with a tray full of colorful shots. What the fuck is this place?

Angel looks around wildly, searching the topless women’s faces in fear he’ll recognize one of them. He pushes past the swaying bodies in the middle of the room, and then he sees you—working behind the bar.

He’s relieved when he notices that your chest is covered by one of those bralette thingies you like to wear so much. But he’s not sure whether this relief comes from not wanting the pathetic men around the bar to stare at your perfect body or not wanting to get another surprise boner in front of you. 

“You didn’t tell me you’re a bartender now,” he yells through the loud music as your gaze finds him, your eyes widening in shock.

You serve one of the men at the bar a bottle of beer, popping the cap simultaneously, then you come back to Angel and squint at him, trying to find a clue as to why he turned up at your workplace and how he even knew where to find you. This bar was almost an hour's drive away from Santo Padre. 

“What the hell are you doing here? I do not have time to put up with your shit right now, Angel,” you sneer at him as you lean over the bar in hopes he’ll hear you better, take the hint and retreat back to his car. 

“I’m fucking sorry, alright?!” He throws his hands in the air in exasperation, almost knocking a drink out of some poor girl’s hand.

You blink once, then twice, and your eyebrows scrunch up in annoyance, “Fuck off.” You whip around and go the opposite way to serve another customer. 

That’s definitely not how Angel imagined this conversation would go. He didn’t know you were that mad at him. He was a moron to think you’d accept his apology without a peep in the middle of a sea of drunk strangers. This wasn’t a goddamn telenovela. 

The man sighs deeply in annoyance before following you to the other side of the bar. “Querida, can we talk? Give me five fucking minutes.”

At first, he’s sure you’ll just ignore him as your eyes almost pop out of your skull—that’s how hard you roll them at his words—but then you turn to him with teary eyes. “I’m at work. I can’t. You really couldn’t wait and ambush me when I’m home?” 

“It was an impulse,” he admits. Angel knew it was pretty dumb to think that if he came here, you’d drop everything, so he could explain himself and get rid of this guilt that’s been eating him alive for the past few days. “Please, querida.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” you curse under your breath before waving over the other bartender and shouting through the noise to her that you’re taking a break. 

You join Angel on the other side of the counter and tug at his kutte, leading him toward the exit. Before you can even reach the hallway, someone bumps into you, their hands grabbing at your naked waist. 

“Hey there, bonita,” the man greets you. The smell of his cologne and cigarettes makes your eyes widen—you know it very well. 

Angel stands there for a second, his left brow raised in annoyance and confusion because you seem to know this guy—and he really doesn’t like that thought. He pushes the stranger’s hands off your body with a sneer. 

“Man, don’t fucking touch her like that.”

You catch Angel’s forearm and squeeze almost painfully, your nails digging into his inked skin. You don’t turn your head toward him even for a quarter of a second. 

“The hell? We’re friends, big guy.” The man’s deep voice and graying beard confuse him even more. Since when do you fancy fucking grandpas? 

“Uh, Cesar, hi,” you greet him, your voice squeaky and the upward quirk of your lips fake. The second the stranger’s gaze falls over your grip on the brunet’s arm, you release him. “Sorry, I’ve actually just finished my shift.”

“No, you fucking didn’t.” Cesar’s eyebrows and nose scrunch threateningly. Who the fuck is this guy to be talking to you like that?

You reply without missing a beat, “My kid’s got a fever. It’s an emergency.”

The old guy looks between your face and Angel’s before the grimace falls. The smirk taking its place isn’t any less threatening. “You must be the baby daddy, huh?” he asks, but his tone is clearly mocking.

You pray in your head that Angel will hold his short temper at bay. You know, one wrong word to Cesar equals a shit ton of trouble—even the satisfaction of wiping that disgusting smirk off his face wasn’t worth it. 

“Mi niña hermosa. So fucking good at riding, she got herself a biker,” Cesar almost moans those words out as his hand finds your hip, fingers toying with the belt loop of your dress pants. You don’t move to slap his hand away.

Angel raises his fist to punch him, his teeth gritting against each other almost audibly. Before he can deliver that hit, you push him aside and usher him out of the door. You don’t say another word to that Cesar guy—not even a goodbye—as he slips a bill into your back pocket and slaps your ass.

Angel is fucking livid because you know how to take care of yourself, he saw you kill a man before, crush his skull with your goddamn boot, and yet you just take the disrespect in silence. It’s not like you.

Once you’re out the door and out of earshot, he explodes. “Why the fuck did you let him treat you like that?!” His voice reverberates through the night air, earning the two of you a few concerned and annoyed glances from the bystanders. 

“That’s my boss. Now shut up and take me home,” you mumble, exhausted, looking around the parking lot in search of Angel’s car. “I spent an hour in the car with that dick to even get here, and now I’m going back after not even half of my shift just because you couldn’t wait to talk,” you rant, almost stumbling over your words.

When you reach the car, and he opens the door at the passenger side like always, he’s surprised to catch a glimpse of tears running down your cheeks. He joins you inside with a sigh, concerned eyes finding your head turned away from him as you stare through the side window. 

“Cariño, I’m sorry,” Angel whispers, his hand reaching to push a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

You sniffle, wiping your cheeks with your bare arm. “Every single time I feel like we’re closer than ever and that maybe you feel something toward me too, you fucking push me away.”

“I know, I’m—”

You cut him off before he has a chance to apologize again, “No, I’m speaking right now. You’ve never yelled at me before. Not like that. You scared the shit out of me, and I blamed myself. Wondered what the hell I did to deserve it. But I didn’t do shit.” You throw your arms in the air, gesticulating toward him. You still refuse to meet his eyes. “You fucked up. Not me. You’re the one that’s been playing with my feelings all this time, and god forbid I try to even out the stakes.”

Angel’s now the one tearing up as his eyes widen at your words. “Querida, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t fucking mean it.” His fingers find solace in tugging on his hair in frustration.  “And I never wanted you to feel like I’m playing with your feelings. I’m so sorry.”

You turn away from him again, biting your lip to keep the sobs inside. “Please, just drive me home, Angel.” The desperation in your voice is heartbreaking. 

So he does what you ask of him and drives you home in silence. He doesn’t have it in him to try again when you’re already struggling, trying to keep the whimpers from wrecking your body. And when you pull up in front of your apartment building with a heavy heart, he lets you jump out of the car and rush to the door. 

He stays in his seat, trying to recollect himself—it doesn’t help, he still hates himself for making you feel this way. It takes a while for him to get inside the apartment, he dreads that when he walks in, you’ll tell him to take his shit and get out of your life. 

Angel knows he fucked up, and you were right; he played with your feelings—played with his own too. He slept in your bed almost every night, cuddled with you, kissed your forehead and told you ‘goodnight’ and ‘good morning’. How was it any different from how he’d treat Nails, Luisa, or any other woman he loved? Minus the sex. And when you challenged that unspoken boundary—on purpose or not—he chickened out and treated you like a plague. What the hell was wrong with him?

The apartment is swallowed in darkness when he enters it. You’re nowhere to be seen, and he figures out you’ve probably shut yourself inside your room, maybe even locked the door, so he wouldn’t be able to come in. He wouldn’t blame you.

He sits on the couch in the gloom and stares into the void. He’ll wait for you to come to him once you’re ready—he’ll sit here for hours if he has to. Angel needs to fix this, tell you what’s really been on his mind the past couple of days—tell you how much you mean to him, how much he loves you, and how fucking terrifying it is. 

Three hours pass, and he’s almost dozed off on the couch, his head tilted forward, his back slumped, and his eyelids drooping with every second. The wooden floor creaks underneath your footsteps, waking him up completely. The sleepiness evaporates into thin air as he straightens up and finds your frame in the darkness. 

You switch on one of the lamps in the corner of the room. Its warm glow takes over its surroundings, but not overwhelmingly so. Angel squints a little as your frame drops onto the couch beside him. You sniffle softly before leaning your head on his shoulder.

His heart shatters just a little bit more, and his voice carries it, breaking in the middle of the sentence, “I’m sorry, cariño.”

You don’t acknowledge his apology—you don’t really need to. Your next words are all the forgiveness he could ever want. 

“I love you, Angel,” you mumble against his arm. It’s a quiet confession, yet it echoes in his mind like a mantra.

He feels your tears soaking into the sleeve of his shirt. The man blinks in shock once, or twice, then pulls you into his lap and presses a gentle kiss against your forehead. 

“You know I love you too, right? More than any woman I’ve ever loved,” he admits, and it pains him, but it’s the truth.

He loved Luisa and Stephanie, but those feelings pale in comparison to what he feels for you. Angel never experienced this overwhelming want to protect someone from the whole goddamn world—the pure need to spend every single minute of his life with them and care about them more than he’s ever cared about himself. He feels that for you—like he could throw himself into a burning fire if someone promised him his sacrifice would give you and Maverick safety for the rest of your lives. 

You straighten up in his arms and cradle his jaw in your palms. When your eyes meet, you see that burning fire in them. He doesn’t need to say anything else—you understand him without words. 

Your lips press against his tentatively at first, tasting the love and longing. But Angel has a different idea. He pulls you flush against his chest, hands tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss. His tongue grazes the plush of your lips, and you part them for him without a second thought. 

That night, he fucks you on the couch in the middle of your living room, your back pressed against the cushions as he slides inside you with a guttural groan. It’s sweet and needy. The desire you harbored for each other finally released into the world—he’s far past feeling guilty, and sorry for a woman that’s long gone.

Your moans reverberate through the room, and all he can think about is how perfectly he fits inside you—like you were made just for him. One look into your eyes, and he knows you’re thinking the same thing. 

Your nails bite into the bare skin of his back, and the pain is so lovely—he could get drunk on it. He pushes deeper and deeper until you’re a whimpering, clenching mess beneath him. It’s a picture that burns into his brain, he’ll never be able to get it out—not that he’ll ever want to. 

When he spills inside you with a groan, you pull him flush against your naked frame, cradling his face in your palms and leaving sweet pecks anywhere you can reach. 

He’s addicted already, he’ll never be able to give you away now—not a chance in the world. Angel’s love for you is burned into his heart permanently. 

Angel stepped into the library, Maverick in his arms and was staring at the bulletin board. His eyes were scanning over each flyer and business card that was pinned to it. The list of jobs that Angel felt capable of was slim. There were a lot of options, prep cook, lab assistant, front desk organizer, medical assistants, nurses, but none of those were things that Angel had any experience with. That’s when his eyes landed on the business card that was pinned to the flyer that said Farm Hand needed, the business card on top reading Rancho de Valle - Este. His free hand reached up to grab the information from the pin so he could get a closer look. 

Farm hand, operating and maintaining machinery, harvesting and planting crops, repairs, occasional livestock caring. Full time, housing on premise provided if desired, hourly pay, overtime opportunities, and medical insurance. 

“El Ranchitos.” A voice sounded behind him. 

He turned around immediately, a little startled by the voice while Maverick on the other hand cooed in excitement as he saw who was behind them. 

“Sorry I did not mean to scare you.” Izzy smiled at Angel and turned her gaze onto Maverick. Her hand quickly reached out to grab his foot. “Hi, you. I missed you.” Her voice was soft now, she didn’t want to scary anyone again. 

“You caught me deep in thought, that’s all.” Angel laughed as he adjusted Maverick in his arms. 

“Yes, El Ranchitos.” She repeated again pointing to the papers again. 

Angel looked down not seeing El Ranchitos anywhere on the forms and looked back at the woman he had brief conversations with over the last few months. “You’re familiar with them?” 

“De Valle’s are very well known in this town. They own all of El Ranchitos, de Valle Este is the one closest to the city that is a harvesting ranch, they have others in the city but they’re more like resorts, they had to adapt with the change of the world.” Izzy explained. “They’re good people, kind, understanding. I think de Valle Este is like 10 minutes from here by car.” 

“Thanks, yea I think I’m going to apply. Everything else is a bit out of my range.” Angel laughed awkwardly. “Just gotta figure out what I’m gonna do with him while I’m working, maybe I could hire someone to watch him if I take them up on this on premise housing.” He was thinking outloud now, but it was just a symptom of having no one above the age of 2 to talk with here. 

Izzy was leaning over in front of him now, reaching for something on the bulletin board. Her hand began searching around until she found what she was looking for and pulled it from the pin. “It isn’t a nanny, but we watch the kids all day, feed them, read to them, use the playground outside on good weather days, it’s a small group too.” 

“We?” Angel questioned his eyes moving from the library daycare flier to Izzy’s face.

“Okay, I, it’s my initiative. We did a trial run this summer with a handful of kids and it went pretty well. We have about 8 kids right now signed up for the school year, all local, have room for 10, I think Maverick would be a great addition.” Izzy grinned again, now looking at Maverick who giggled and brought his hands out to her in hope to be held by her. 

“How was I around like all summer and didn’t notice this?” Angel laughed and happily gave the child over to Izzy. 

These last few months he had gotten extremely comfortable with the woman and honestly safe with her, Angel as well. These last few months have consisted of Angel coming to most of the library events because not only did Maverick enjoy them but because they offered him peace around people which he didn’t have much of since leaving Santo Padre. There was a constant fear, a persistence to always look over his shoulder, double guess everyone he met, everyone who walked too close to him on the street, but at the library it was like that fear was nonexistent. He had made a friend in Izzy, which was exactly what he needed right now. 

“I have two other people that help out, it allows one of us to take off, or be more flexible around the library.” She answered as she bounced Maverick up and down in her arms. “They’re actually running daycare now, if you want to check it out.” Her eyes moved back to Angel as Maverick’s little hands picked up her I.D. that was draped around her neck with a lanyard. “No pressure.” She let out an awkward laugh. 

“No, yea.” Angel spoke up which earned him a confused look from the woman holding his child across from him. He smiled realizing how confusing his statement was. “I just meant we’d love to check it out.” 

Izzy nodded and brought them both to the children’s area of the library and opened up the decent size circular room that currently had a group of kids of a variety of ages drawing on tables. 

“Sticker drawing. Helps them with open ended exploration, we let the older kids come up with a story based on their drawings and the younger ones like it too.” She was placing Maverick down on the ground and he was quick to find himself at the small table grabbing a sheet of his own. 

“How big is the age range?” Angel wasn’t sure why he was asking questions, he knew this was the best place for Maverick if he was to get this job. 

“Right now 1 through 5. This group is a bit older because it’s the summer.” She put her hands over her chest as she watched over the kids. 

 Before Angel could answer there was a little girl who was about 4 walking up to Izzy holding out her sheet of paper towards her. 

“Wow, that’s beautiful.” The little girl was being brought up into her arms and instantly throwing her own around Izzy’s neck. 

“Well the kids sure love you.” Angel smiled. 

“I hope this one does.” Izzy rocked from side to side similarly to how she was with Maverick just minutes earlier, but this time she looked at the girl in her arms and kissed the side of her head. “This one’s mine.” 

Angel found himself at a loss of words at that statement. He didn’t expect it. It automatically made him think about his friendship with Izzy, this was something huge that she so easily went without mentioning. Then again, it wasn’t like she knew everything about his life, but she knew a lot about his current life, and this felt very much like her current life. Between not knowing about the daycare and now her child, he felt like he needed to take a major step back. 

“Are you okay?” She interrupted Angel’s thoughts. 

“Yea, sorry. Just didn’t realize you had a kid.” Angel wanted to rewind the last 10 seconds so he never said those words. 

Izzy’s face dropped a little and she looked back down at her daughter and placed her back on the ground and stayed at her level for a moment. “Go back with your friends, Abrielle.” 

As she stood up she turned to Angel, and nodded towards the door. For a moment he hesitated and looked at Maverick. “You can take him, but Olivia doesn’t mind watching him.” She pointed to the woman with the lanyard similar to her own that was at the smaller kids table. With a nod, Angel was walking out of the room and standing awkwardly in front of Izzy. 

“I know you understand the need for privacy, Angel. The need to keep things to yourself. If I recall the first time I met you, I put my own address in for your library card because you were two nervous to give out information.” It felt scolding almost the way she was speaking. 

“I–” Angel went to speak but she cut him off by holding up her finger and speaking over him. 

“I don’t need a reason to make a choice regarding my child, Angel.” Her accent came out strong when she said his name. “You out of all people should get that.” 

“I do, I’m sorry. I just thought we were friends.” Again, Angel was wishing he would just keep his mouth shut. 

Izzy sighed, her guard immediately falling down and with a shake of her head she spoke. “We are friends, Angel. I just need to be cautious with her.” 

“I get that.” He nodded. “I didn’t mean to do whatever this is.” He waved his hand around and laughed awkwardly. “If anything, I’m glad you felt comfortable to tell me, it’s cool, having a parent friend. Haven’t had many of those really.” 

“Well if you do the daycare thing, you’ll make more during pickup and dropoff.” She matched his humorous tone. 

“Don’t know if I want that.” He chuckled nervously.

“Why do you think I don’t tell many people I have a child.” Her eyebrows raised and her mouth curled into a smile. 

Angel laughed. “Well then I’m honored to be accepted amongst the few.” He looked through the window of the daycare door and saw Maverick laughing at something and he turned back to Izzy. “I’d like to sign him up, even if I don’t get this job, this is the right place for him.” 

Izzy smiled at that comment, she went to say something but bit her tongue immediately. Her desire to say that this is the best place for Maverick and him was high but she held back and simply nodded. 

I ended the call and leaned against the counter, my fingers tapping against the cool surface. The permits were one more step forward, one more piece locking into place. I should have felt relief. Excitement, even. Instead, there was a gnawing sense of unease in my stomach that I couldn’t shake.

Maybe it was Bishop, his absence even when he was physically here. Maybe it was that meeting with “James T. Kirk” and the not-so-subtle message behind his words. Or maybe it was the simple fact that I was stepping into something deeper than I’d ever planned for.

I took a slow breath and squared my shoulders. I’d come this far. There was no turning back now.

I started a pot of coffee before pulling fruit from the refrigerator to cut up for breakfast. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen, mingling with the crisp morning air that slipped through the cracked window. My fingers moved automatically, slicing through the soft flesh of a peach, the juice sticky on my skin. The rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the cutting board was the only noise in the quiet house—until I felt him.

His hands were warm and familiar as they settled on my hips, his body pressing against my back. The scratch of his beard against my neck sent a shiver down my spine, and then his lips were there, soft and slow. God. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed this—missed him. The knife slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the countertop. My breath hitched as his hands began to roam, tracing the curve of my waist, the swell of my hips.

“Morning,” Bishop murmured, his voice low and gravelly, still heavy with sleep. His breath was warm against my skin, and I could smell the faint hint of whiskey lingering on him from the night before. His arms tightened around me, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. My heart was pounding, but I didn’t move. I didn’t want to. Not when his hands felt like this—like they were rediscovering me, like he was memorizing every inch of me all over again.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I could feel the rumble of his laugh against my back.

I turned in his arms, my hands resting on his chest. His skin was warm, and I could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. His dark eyes were still clouded with sleep, but there was something else there too—something softer, something that made my stomach flip. It had been weeks since I’d seen that look in his eyes. Weeks since he’d touched me like this, without hurry, without distraction.

“You planning to finish making breakfast?” he asked, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. His hands slid down to cup my ass, squeezing lightly. I bit my lip, trying to suppress the grin that threatened to spread across my face.

“Depends,” I said, dragging my nails lightly down his chest. His breath hitched, and I felt a surge of satisfaction. Got him.

“On?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave. His hands moved to my waist, pulling me even closer until I could feel the growing hardness of him pressed against my stomach.

I tilted my chin up, meeting his gaze. “How hungry you are.”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest as he leaned down, his lips brushing against mine. “Starving.”

And just like that, the softness was gone, replaced by the familiar hunger that always burned between us. His hands were everywhere at once, tugging at the hem of my shirt, sliding underneath to touch bare skin. I arched into him, my fingers tangling in his hair as his lips claimed mine. His kiss was demanding, possessive, and I melted into it, letting him take what he wanted.

His hands found the waistband of my panties, and he didn’t hesitate, pulling them down my thighs in one quick motion. I kicked them aside, feeling a surge of anticipation as he dropped to his knees in front of me. His hands gripped my hips, steadying me as he leaned in, his breath hot against my skin. I closed my eyes, my hands resting on his shoulders for balance as his lips brushed against the inside of my thigh.

“Fuck, you smell good,” he muttered, voice rough with desire.

I gasped as his lips pressed against the inside of my thigh, heat pooling low in my belly at the deliberate way his mouth moved. He teased me, dragging his lips up my skin, inhaling deeply before finally tasting me with the flat of his tongue.

A moan slipped from my lips before I could stop it, my fingers tightening against his shoulders as I fought to stay upright. He didn’t hesitate, his mouth working me over with the kind of skill that made my knees weak.

The vibration of his groan sent shockwaves through me, my head falling back as pleasure pulsed through my veins. His grip on my thighs was firm, grounding, keeping me from slipping away as his tongue circled, licked, and sucked with maddening precision. He knew exactly how to unravel me, how to push me toward the edge without throwing me over too soon.

“You taste so fucking good,” he growled against me, his voice sending shivers down my spine. His hands moved to grip my ass, pulling me closer, pressing his face deeper into me.

His hands moved to my ass, squeezing as he pressed his face deeper into me. I was trembling, my body on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. I could feel the tension building, coiling tight in my stomach. He knew exactly what he was doing, his tongue flicking against me in just the right way, his lips sucking gently. I was panting, my hands fisting in his hair as I tried to hold on.

He didn’t stop, his tongue working faster, harder, until I was gasping, my body tightening as the orgasm ripped through me. I cried out, my legs shaking as he held me up, his mouth still on me, drawing out every last wave of pleasure.

When I finally came down, I was breathless, my body still trembling. Bishop stood slowly, his hands sliding up my sides as he kissed his way up my stomach, my chest, my neck, until his lips found mine again. He tasted like me, and I could feel the hardness of him pressing against me, his need clear.

“Breakfast can wait,” he whispered against my lips, his eyes dark with desire. His hands were already moving, tugging at my shirt, peeling it from my body in one swift motion. I wasn’t thinking anymore, wasn’t hesitating. I wanted him just as badly. I fumbled with the waistband of his pajama pants, pushing them down as he lifted me onto the counter, the cool surface biting into my skin.

The heat in his gaze sent another wave of arousal through me, my legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.

“You want me, don’t you?” he asked, his voice rough.

I swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah,” I whispered.

His hands slid over my thighs, spreading them open as he pressed himself against me, teasing me, making me feel just how much he wanted this.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice a low growl.

“I want you,” I breathed.. 

His eyes darkened, satisfaction flickering in them as he gripped my hips and thrust into me in one deep, fluid motion. My gasp was swallowed by his mouth as he claimed mine in a kiss that was all tongue and heat and hunger.

He didn’t give me time to adjust, his thrusts deep, punishing, hitting all the right places. My nails dug into his shoulders, my legs tightening around his waist as he fucked me with the kind of urgency that stole my breath.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, his hands moving to my ass, pulling me into him with each thrust. His control was slipping, and I loved it.

“Bishop,” I moaned, my hands gripping the edge of the counter as he fucked me harder, faster. His hands moved to my breasts, squeezing roughly as his lips crashed against mine. I could feel the heat building, the tension coiling tight in my stomach. He broke the kiss, his lips moving to my neck, biting down as his hips slammed into me one last time.

“Cum for me,” he growled, his voice raw with need. And I did, my body shattering around him as he groaned, his hips jerking as he spilled himself inside me. He pressed his forehead against mine, both of us breathing heavily as we came down from the high.

His eyes lingered on me as I steadied myself against the countertop, my breath still uneven. The weight of his stare was heavy, searching.

“Who was on the phone?”

I blinked, still trying to gather my thoughts, my body buzzing from the aftermath of his touch. The moment had left me raw, unguarded, and for a split second, I almost forgot about the call entirely.

But I couldn’t forget. Not really.

I hadn’t told him about my conversation with Declan, the boutique, or the strange man I met at the restaurant. And I wasn’t sure how much I could share. Not yet.

Lying to Bishop outright wasn’t an option—he’d see right through it. But the truth? The whole truth? That was dangerous.

“I—” My tongue darted out, wetting my lips as I carefully chose my words. “The city planning office.”

His gaze flickered with curiosity as he moved toward the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup. He was waiting for more, his silence pressing, expectant.

I forced a small, casual shrug. “My uncle thought I could use something to do, so I’m opening a little boutique.”

It was the truth—just not the full truth.

I watched for his reaction, my pulse quickening in the brief pause that followed. Would he question it? Would he push for more?

His fingers curled around the mug, and for a moment, he just looked at me, dark eyes unreadable.

And then, finally, he took a slow sip, the tension stretching between us like a live wire.

“My cousin is flying in from Ireland later this week to help me get everything sorted,” I continued, keeping my tone even. “I hope you don’t mind that he stays with us while he’s here.”

Bishop’s expression darkened as he set his coffee down with a little too much force. “You’re just fucking telling me about this now?”

I felt my irritation flicker to life, but I kept my voice calm as I slipped off the counter, tugging my shirt back over my head. “You haven’t been around much for me to tell you much of anything.”

His jaw tightened. “I’ve been busy.”

“I know.” And I did. The weight of leading the Mayans, the constant pressure, the shifting alliances—it consumed him. But I was busy, too. And I wasn’t going to apologize for it.

“The whole fucking Mayan empire is watching me,” he continued, his voice sharp. “And now you’re bringing the fucking Irish into my house.”

Our house. That was what I wanted to say, but instead, I let the words hang between us, my patience thinning.

“Our house,” I corrected anyway, my voice steady. “And Patrick is not the Irish.”

I didn’t like the way he said it, like it was a slur, like my bloodline was a problem. Like I was a problem.

His nostrils flared, but he didn’t say anything, just stared at me, his fingers drumming against the counter.

“Patrick’s just here to help with the boutique,” I added, watching him closely. “That’s it.”

Bishop let out a slow breath, his shoulders visibly tense. “We’ll see.”

I could feel the shift in the air, the unspoken battle neither of us was willing to start yet. But I knew this wasn’t the end of the conversation. Not by a long shot.

“It’s not going to get in the way of whatever you’re doing with the club,” I said, my hands resting lightly on his chest, my fingers grazing over the worn fabric of his shirt. “I promise.”

I didn’t want to fight with him. I just wanted something of my own—something separate from the weight of his world and the expectations that came with it.

Bishop’s jaw was still tight, his shoulders rigid, but I saw the flicker of something softer in his expression. Not quite acceptance, but something close. His hands skimmed over my hips, grounding me for just a second before he spoke.

“I want you at the clubhouse tonight.”

It wasn’t a request. It never was with him.

I searched his face, trying to read between the lines. Was this about keeping me close? Keeping an eye on me? Or was this his way of pulling me back into his world when I was edging toward my own?

Still, I nodded. “Okay, I can meet you there after I pick up the permits from the city planning office.”

His eyes lingered on me for a moment longer before he gave a small nod and turned, heading back toward the bedroom.

I let out a slow breath, staring at the empty doorway.

I wasn’t sure if I had just reassured him—or if I had just given him another reason to watch me more closely.

Either way, I was already in too deep.

—-

“I’ve got everything started, Uncle,” I told Declan over the phone, pacing the length of my living room. “Got a building lined up, permits in place—shouldn’t take long to turn it into a beautiful store.”

“Aye,” he responded, the faint clink of ice against glass echoing through the speaker. “Have ya met with da supplier yet?”

“Captain Kirk?” I asked dryly, leaning against the counter.

Declan chuckled, the sound deep and knowing. “He’s still usin’ dat shite? Aye, that’s him.”

I smirked, shaking my head. “So what’s his real name?”

“Ya don’t need ta know that, lass,” Declan said, his tone light but firm. “Just know he’s reliable.”

That didn’t sit right with me, but I let it slide—for now.

—

I pulled my SUV into the clubhouse lot just as the Mayans mounted up, engines rumbling low like distant thunder. I barely had the door shut before I spotted Bishop near the front, adjusting his gloves.

I walked up to him, my boots crunching against the gravel. “Where you heading?”

“Vicki’s,” he said, throwing a leg over his bike. “Gotta do a pickup.”

I frowned. “Then why am I here?”

His jaw tightened as he looked at me. “I need you far away from there. The house is too close in case shit goes down.”

My brow arched. “What shit?”

“Don’t fucking worry about it,” he snapped, voice edged with impatience. “Just go inside. We’ll be back in a while.”

“Bishop?” I said softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

His head turned, irritation still shadowing his face. “What?”

“Be careful, okay?” I murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

His body eased slightly, the tension in his shoulders relaxing just enough. “I will be,” he said, voice quieter now. “Don’t worry.”

I wrapped my arms around myself as I watched them ride out of the clubhouse lot, the roar of their engines fading into the distance. Even as Bishop disappeared from sight, the weight in my chest lingered.

Lately, there was a distance between us, something heavier than just club business. The Mayans kept him busy, sure, but this felt different—like he was carrying something he wouldn’t name. And Bishop wasn’t exactly the talk-about-your-feelings type.

I sighed, pushing the thought aside as I turned and headed up the steps into the clubhouse. A few of the girls were still hanging around, lounging on the couches or milling near the bar.

“You want a beer or something?” one of them asked.

“Yeah,” I climbed onto a stool, my fingers tapping absently against the counter. “You’re Nails, right?”

She nodded, grabbing a Corona from the cooler and popping the top before sliding it over to me. “Haven’t seen you around much lately. Everything good?”

“Yeah,” I took a sip, feeling the cool bitterness slide down my throat. “Just needed to figure out who I am outside of all this.”

Nails nodded like she understood, wiping down the already clean bar. “I get that. Hank’s teaching me how to do ink.”

“I thought you were with Angel,” I quirked a brow.

“No one is exactly with Angel,” she replied, “but we hang out you could say.”

I knew what she meant. Angel wasn’t exactly the committed long-term relationship type. He’d taken each of the women here home with him after a long night at the clubhouse at least once. Usually he was more discrete about it. Recently he’d gotten careless. 

“Be careful with that one,” I told her, “Sexy bikers are dangerous.” 

“Says you sitting with the king of them,” she chuckled. 

I smiled a little at that, appreciating the jab. “Touché,” I said, taking another sip of my beer. “But trust me, there’s a difference between the club’s business and whatever Angel’s got going on.”

Nails raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“The club has a purpose. Angel... he’s just along for the ride,” I replied, shrugging slightly. "He’s got that charm that makes you forget everything until it’s too late.”

She laughed softly, running her fingers through her hair. “I’ve been around enough of you guys to know that. But I’m not the one in danger, am I?"

I couldn't help but feel the weight of her question. It wasn’t just about Angel; it was about everything I was slowly becoming a part of. “Just don’t get too wrapped up in it, Nails," I said, more to myself than to her. "You never really know who you're dealing with until it’s too late.”

She nodded, her eyes flickering for a moment. “Yeah, I get that.” She took a pull from her own drink and smirked. “But hey, if it’s a risk, I’m willing to take it. Life’s too short to play it safe.”

I couldn't argue with that, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to gamble. Still, there was something about the way she said it that made me wonder how much longer I could keep up this dance.

The roar of approaching bikes ended the conversation. I could see the weight of things on their faces as they made their way in. Things did not go smoothly. 

“He’s gonna need the bottle,” I told her.

Bishop slid onto the stool beside me as Nails poured him a shot of Cuervo, leaving the bottle on the bar. I opened my mouth to ask him how things went. But stopped myself. I didn’t want a fight. Bishop’s face looked like he was ready for one.

Low murmurs from Angel, EZ, Gilly, and Coco’s table said that this was effecting the Arizona charters. The guys that were in prison that depended on the supply that had gotten cut off.

“Taza and Creeper got all the H back,” Hank said as he walked in the clubhouse, “they’re gonna sit on it at Beatriz’s.” He moved to sit on the stool on the other side of Bishop and added, “Don’t know how long that’ll be tenable.”

It made sense now, they had tried to do too much too fast and the play didn’t work out the way it should.  

“We’re exposed now,” Hank continued, “What we tried to pull today, lying to Alvarez? Only a matter of time before it gets back to him and the other Kings.”

Bishop slung his glass hard, crashing it against the bottle with a crash before he stormed out of the clubhouse with a slam. My hands started to shake. I froze as the familiar fear started to creep back in. I hadn’t felt that fear in a long time. 

“Yo, Malibu,” I heard Angel’s voice cut through the fear, his hand resting gently on my arm, “You ok?”

The touch grounded me back in the present. And I started to breathe again. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” 

Angel didn’t pull away immediately, his eyes studying me carefully. He was always good at reading people, a skill I had come to appreciate over the past few weeks. Still, I could feel the weight of his gaze, and I was thankful for the moment of silence. The last thing I wanted was to crack open old wounds in front of the club.

“You sure about that?” Angel asked quietly, his voice low and steady.

I nodded, forcing a small smile. “Yeah, just a lot going on. A little too much, actually.” I let out a sigh, trying to shake the tension from my shoulders. “I think I need a minute to figure out what the hell just happened.”

Angel gave me a knowing look but didn’t press further. Instead, he slid the shot of Cuervo toward me. “Take the edge off.”

I hesitated, looking at the liquid. The last thing I needed was more to numb, but I couldn’t deny the familiar temptation. I picked it up, swirled it in the glass for a moment, and then downed it in one smooth motion. The burn was instant, but it cleared my head, if only for a moment.

“Better?” Angel asked, still watching me closely.

I nodded again, though I wasn’t entirely sure if it was. I could feel the sharp tang of fear fading away, but only to be replaced by something else—something colder, more calculating.

“Thanks,” I muttered, lowering the empty glass to fill it again. And then again.

Nails swept up the broken bottle and glass from the clubhouse floor as Angel took her hand and started to lead her out the door. I grabbed my purse from behind the bar, following them out. Bishop wasn’t coming back, not tonight. 

“You good to drive home?” Nails asked as she stood by Angel’s bike. 

“I think so,” I told her, “Go have a good time.” I fumbled in my purse for my keys. I wasn’t good. 

Her hand took the keys from mine, “Come with us.” 

I nodded.

“We’ll meet you at your place,” she told Angel. 

Angel gave a knowing nod and watched as I climbed into the passenger’s seat of my SUV and Nails slid behind the wheel. We rode in silence down the familiar streets. 

I’d never been to Angel’s house before, but inside it was exactly what I expected. It smelled like old leather and cigarrette smoke, familiar in a way that felt like an odd sort of relief. 

I sank down on the worn chair in the living room, tucking my feet under me.  

“Last time Nails brought another girl with her we had a threesome,” Angel gave me a grin. 

“I’ll let you live with that fantasy,” I felt myself start to relax as the tension started to leave my body. 

Nails smirked from across the room, clearly entertained by the comment as she poured herself a drink from the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. Angel's eyes never left me, still watching, but the intensity was different now. There was a sense of calm that had settled over the room, like we were all suspended in some kind of understanding.

I glanced between the two of them, entertaining the thought longer than I should. It wasn’t that I wasn’t tempted, but tonight wasn’t about that. 

Angel chuckled low, tossing a casual glance at Nails and then back at me, ”You could just watch.”

I grabbed the bottle from the table and filled a glass before leaning back in the chair again “Just ignore me,” I told them, “and do what you normally do.” 

Nails laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down my spine. She set her glass down and crossed the room to where Angel stood. Without a word, she reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it up over his head. Angel’s hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer as she leaned in to claim his lips.

I watched, transfixed, as their kiss deepened. Angel’s hands roamed over Nails’ body, pushing her fitted top up over her head. I felt heat pool in the pit of my stomach, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. My breath caught as Nails moaned softly into Angel’s mouth.

The room was alive with the sound of their breathing, the subtle creak of the sofa as Angel lowered her on it. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, my own body responding to the sight of them together. My fingers tightened around the glass in my hand, the coolness of it grounding me even as my mind raced.

Angel’s hands moved lower, gripping Nails’ hips as she straddled him. She let out a low laugh, her eyes meeting mine over Angel’s shoulder. There was a challenge in her gaze, a question that lingered in the air between us.

"You’re not going to join us?" Nails asked, her voice a teasing lilt that sent a jolt of electricity through me.

I shook my head, though the idea was tempting. "Not tonight," I replied, my voice steady despite the rapid beating of my heart.

Nails shrugged, her attention returning to Angel as she leaned in to kiss him again. Their movements were slow, deliberate, each touch meant to draw out the pleasure. I watched as Angel’s hands moved over her skin, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist before gripping her hips tighter.

Nails moaned again, her head falling back as Angel’s lips trailed down her neck. Her hands moved to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as he continued to explore her body with his mouth. I could see the way her body responded to his touch, the way her hips moved against his, seeking more.

I felt a pang of jealousy, though I knew it was irrational. But as I watched them together, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be in Nails’ place, to feel Angel’s hands on my body, his lips against my skin. The thought sent a shiver through me, my own body betraying me as I shifted in my seat.

Nails’ fingers worked quickly, the button of Angel’s jeans popping open with a satisfying click. Her hand slipped inside, her fingers wrapping around his length, and I felt my breath hitch as I watched her strokes become deliberate, teasing. Angel groaned, a deep, guttural sound that sent a shiver down my spine. His head tipped back, his muscles tense, and I couldn’t help but bite my lip as I stared.

He was thick, long, and even from where I sat, I could see the way his cock pulsed in her hand. My thighs pressed together instinctively, a heat pooling low in my stomach that I tried to ignore. But it was impossible. My gaze was glued to the scene unfolding in front of me, my own body betraying me with every second that passed.

Nails glanced up at me, her lips curving into a smirk as she locked eyes with mine. There was something in that look—challenging, inviting—and for a moment, I felt like she was pulling me into the moment with them, even though I wasn’t moving an inch. She didn’t break eye contact as she shimmied out of her jeans, her movements slow, deliberate. The fabric pooled at her feet, and she stepped out of them with a grace that made my heart race.

She climbed back onto Angel, straddling him with a confidence that was intoxicating. Her hands braced against his chest as she leaned back, her hips positioning over him. I could see the way her body hovered, teasing, before she finally sank down onto him, taking his full-length inch by inch.

Angel’s breath caught, his hands gripping her hips as she moved, his eyes closing for a moment as he let out a low, appreciative moan. Nails’ head tipped back, her lips parting in a gasp that was almost musical. Her hips began to move, rolling in slow circles before she lifted herself slightly, only to sink back down again.

God, she was beautiful. The way her body moved, the way she controlled the rhythm, it was mesmerizing. I tried to focus on the drink in my hand, on the coolness of the glass against my skin, but it was no use. My attention kept drifting back to them, to the way Angel’s hands gripped her tighter, to the way Nails’ breath hitched with every downward stroke.

“Still just watching?” Nails’ voice was breathless, but there was a teasing lilt to it that made my cheeks flush. She glanced over her shoulder at me, her lips curling into a smirk that was equal parts playful and dangerous.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry despite the whiskey. “I’m fine,” I managed, my voice sounding far more confident than I felt.

Angel’s eyes met mine, dark and hungry, and for a moment, I thought he might say something. But instead, he shifted his focus back to Nails, his hands sliding up her sides, his thumbs brushing against the underside of her breasts. She arched into his touch, her movements becoming more urgent, more desperate.

The room was filled with the sound of their pleasure—soft moans, gasps, the slick sound of skin against skin. It was everything, and I felt myself sinking deeper into the moment, my own body responding in ways I couldn’t ignore. My breath came quicker, my pulse racing as I watched them lose themselves in each other.

Nails’ hands moved to Angel’s chest, her fingers splaying over his skin as she leaned forward, her lips grazing his jaw. “She’s still watching,” she murmured, her voice low and throaty.

Angel’s gaze flicked to me again, his eyes narrowing slightly as a slow smile spread across his lips. “Let her watch,” he said, his voice rough with desire.

I felt my face flush, but I didn’t look away. There was something about the way he said it, the way he looked at me, that sent a jolt of electricity through my body. My fingers tightened around the glass again, and I took a quick sip of whiskey, hoping the burn would ground me. It didn’t.

Nails’ movements were becoming more erratic now, her hips moving faster, her breathing more shallow. Angel’s hands gripped her tighter, his own hips lifting to meet her every thrust. The rhythm they had built was intoxicating, and I felt myself leaning forward in my seat, unable to tear my eyes away.

“Come closer,” Nails said suddenly, her voice breaking through the haze of my thoughts. She glanced at me over her shoulder, her eyes dark with desire. “You know you want to.”

I froze, the words hanging in the air like a challenge. My heart was pounding in my chest, my body screaming at me to move, to give in, but I hesitated. This wasn’t supposed to be about me.

Angel’s hand reached out toward me, his fingers brushing against my knee. “Come here,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

I hesitated for only a moment before I set the glass down on the table and stood, my legs feeling unsteady beneath me. My heart was racing as I took a step forward, then another, until I was standing beside the couch.

Nails reached for me, her fingers curling around my wrist as she pulled me down onto the couch beside them. “Relax,” she said, her voice soft, almost soothing.

I shifted on the couch beside them, my loose skirt shifted higher on my hips, throwing one leg over the arm of the couch. Angel smirked looking at me, seeing my pale face flush at the site of them. His hand gripped my thigh, spreading them further apart. My hand slipped inside the satin of my panties.

Nails grinned, her eyes flicking down to the movement between my legs. Angel was moving faster now, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he thrust into her. His grip on my thigh tightened, his fingers digging into my skin as he pushed himself closer and closer to the edge.

My fingers worked quickly, finding the sensitive bud between my legs. I felt my breath hitch, my back arching off the couch as pleasure coursed through me.

Nails watched me with a smug smile, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she felt the tension coil tighter in the room. "You're missing out," she panted, her hips bucking against Angel’s in a rhythm that was driving both of them wild.

I couldn't deny the heat building within me, the way my body responded to their raw passion. The whiskey had done its job, loosening my inhibitions and making the idea of joining them seem less like a line I shouldn’t cross and more like a thrilling dare.

With a breathless laugh, I gave in. My hand slid up Nails’ thigh, tracing the slickness of her skin until it reached the juncture where she and Angel were joined. She gasped as my fingers touched her, a delicate caress that made her hips jerk.

"Is this what you wanted?" I whispered in her ear.

Her eyes locked onto mine, a silent challenge sparking between us. She nodded, and I felt a rush of excitement and terror. This was it.

I slid my fingers into the warm, wet heat between her legs, finding her clit and rubbing it in time with their movements. She threw her head back, her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. I could feel Nails’ body quivering under my touch, her moans growing louder, more urgent.

Her hands found my breasts, kneading them through the fabric of my shirt. I arched into her touch. The heat from their bodies washed over me, my own desire spiraling out of control.

As I touched Nails, Angel’s hand found the zipper of my skirt, pulling it down in one swift motion. He reached under me, his fingers slipping into the damp fabric of my panties, mimicking the movements I was making against her.

Their combined touch was too much, and I felt myself spiraling closer and closer to the edge. Nails’ eyes fluttered closed, her body tensing as she rode out the waves of her climax, her nails digging into Angel’s shoulders.

He watched me with an intense gaze, his own release imminent. "Fuck," he growled.

My thumb circled Nails’ clit with increased pressure, feeling her body shudder under me as she came, her walls clenching around Angel’s cock. He groaned, his grip tightening on her hips as he followed her over the edge, his hips jerking with the force of his orgasm.

For a moment, the three of us were lost in the aftermath, panting and trembling. Then Nails pulled away, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. I leaned back against the couch, my legs feeling like jelly. I had crossed a line I never thought I would, but instead of regret, I felt alive, electrified by the experience.

Angel’s hand found its way to my face, his thumb tracing my jaw as he studied me with a look that was both predatory and tender. "You want more?" he asked, his voice still rough.

I swallowed hard, my eyes darting between the two of them. "I don’t know," I confessed, my heart racing.

Nails leaned in, whispering in my ear, her breath hot against my skin. "You don’t have to," she said, her tone soothing. "But if you do, we're just getting started."

My heart thumped wildly in my chest. I felt the heat pooling again in the pit of my stomach. 

“Come on, Malibu,” Angel’s voice hot in my ear but with that familiar tease, his fingers lacing with mine as he tugged me up, “I’m gonna fuck her again. You can keep watching if that’s all you want.”

He guided me down the hall into his bedroom. Nails moved in front of us, stretching out on the bed her body still glistening with sweat, the heat still burning in her eyes as she looked at me. 

My heart hammered in my chest as Angel positioned me in front of him, his erection pressing against my back. His hands moved to the clasp of my bra, deftly releasing it.

The coolness of the air hit my bare breasts, and I gasped, my nipples peaking. He slid his hands around to cup them, his thumbs teasing the sensitive tips as he nibbled on my ear.

I could feel Nails’ eyes on us, watching every move with an intensity that made me even wetter. I knew I should stop, knew that this was a path that would only lead to complications, but the thrill was too much to resist.

Angel’s hand slid down my stomach,then he was touching me again, his fingers sliding under my panties, stroking my clit.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You like watching us."

I nodded, unable to form coherent words as pleasure washed over me in waves. His fingers delved deeper, finding my entrance and slipping inside.

Nails shifted on the bed, her hand sliding down to her own pussy. She began to touch herself, her eyes never leaving mine as she watched Angel pleasure me.

The tension grew, the room thick with it. My hips began to rock back and forth, grinding against Angel’s hand, seeking more. He chuckled, his breath hot against my neck.

"You want it, don’t you?" he whispered, his fingers moving faster, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through me. 

“I can’t,” I murmured but I’d already gone too far. 

Angel led me to the bed, pushing me down onto the mattress beside Nails. Her hand reached out, brushing against my cheek. "You're so beautiful," she murmured, her voice thick with desire.

Nails leaned in and kissed me, her tongue sliding into my mouth as Angel’s hand continued to work between my legs.

My body responded, arching into the touches of both of them. It was a dance of passion and power, a dance that had no end in sight.

I moaned into Nails’ mouth as Angel’s fingers pushed deeper, my hips rising to meet his hand. She broke the kiss, a smug smile playing on her lips as she watched the pleasure on my face.

"Take your panties off," she said, her voice a command that I obeyed without thought, sliding them down my legs. “I want to taste you.” 

She shifted to settle between my thighs. Angel shoved his fingers coated with my juices between her lips. She moaned at the taste of me. Her eyes darkened as she hovered over me. 

The bed shifted as Angel knelt on the bed behind her. His hands gripped her hips tight before he drove deep inside her. 

Her tongue darted out to lick my clit, the sensation so intense it was almost painful. I threw my head back, my hands fisting in the sheets as she worked me over with her mouth, her teeth grazing my sensitive flesh.

Angel’s thrusts grew harder, faster, into her. Nails’ mouth moved lower, her tongue delving into me, and I couldn’t hold back the scream that tore from my throat. 

The orgasm was like a wave, crashing over me and pulling me under. Angel let out a loud groan as he spilled his release inside her again. 

The room was spinning, the only anchors being the two of them, their bodies tangled with mine, their breaths coming in gasps that matched the beating of my own heart.

Angel leaned in whispering in my ear, “Eventually you’re gonna let me fuck you.”

“I’m naked in your bed,” I said rolling to face him, “isn’t that enough for now?”

“For now,” he smirked as he rolled on his back, his hand stroking his cock again. Nails moved over him, her lips circling the head as he stroked. I rested my head on my hand and watched. 

The tension grew as Nails took Angel’s cock into her mouth, her eyes fluttering shut as she sucked and licked. He groaned, his hips rising to meet her.

I felt my own arousal spike, watching them like this. The heat grew in my stomach, spreading out through my body.

Suddenly, Nails looked up, her eyes locking onto mine. She pulled away from Angel, a wicked smile on her face. “Your turn, sweetie,” she said, her voice a seductive purr.

Angel’s eyes glittered with excitement as I swallowed hard, my heart racing. This was it, the moment of truth. Could I go through with this?

With trembling hands, I reached out to touch him, my fingers brushing over his shaft. He was velvet over steel, hot and pulsing with need.

As I took him into my mouth, I felt Nails’ hand on my shoulder, guiding me. She whispered instructions, her breath warm against my ear. I moaned around him, the sound vibrating through him, making him thicker, harder.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers tangling in my copper locks, encouraging me to take him deeper. I groaned again as I felt his cock start to twitch in my mouth. 

He was close, so close, and the power was intoxicating. Nails’ hand slid down my body, her fingers finding my clit and beginning to stroke in time with my movements on Angel.

The room spun, my senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the scent of their combined arousal, the feel of Nails’ hand on my skin.

I could feel Angel’s orgasm building, his grip on my hair tightening, his hips bucking.

And then, with a roar, Angel came, his cum spurting into my mouth. I swallowed, surprised by the taste, by the power of the moment. 

Nails watched with hooded eyes, her own breathing erratic, her hand still working my clit. I pulled away from Angel, gasping for air, my heart racing.

The room was silent except for the sound of our panting. 

With a smirk, Nails rolled onto her back, her legs spread wide in invitation. "You can't just tease me like that," she murmured, her eyes never leaving mine.

I felt a surge of desire so intense it was almost painful, and before I could think, I was straddling her, our bodies melding together.

Our kiss was fiery, her tongue dancing with mine as our hands explored each other. I could feel Angel's gaze on us, his cock standing at attention, but for now, it was just Nails and me.

Her hands slid down to cup my ass, guiding me against her. The feeling of her wetness was almost too much to bear, and I moaned into her mouth as our hips rocked together.

Angel's hand found my back, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin as he watched us, his eyes filled with lust. "You two are so fucking hot," he murmured, his voice thick with need.

I felt his erection pressing against my ass, and I couldn't resist the urge to rock back against him. His hand moved around to my front, finding my clit and applying just the right amount of pressure.

The room spun as he pushed me closer to the edge, my hips grinding against Nails' in a desperate search for relief.

“Let me fuck you,” Angel’s voice husky in my ear. I nodded, giving into my last thread of resolve. He lifted my hips tilting them in just the right position before he pushed slowly inside me. My lips fell open in a silent moan as he stretched me. 

As Angel began to move, his strokes long and deep, Nails’ hand found my clit, her touch setting off a symphony of sensations that had me clenching around him.

“Fuck,” his thrusts wavered slightly as my walls pulsed around him. "You feel so fucking good." He leaned forward murmuring in my ear so only I could hear him, "I knew you would."

The air was thick with desire, the room spinning around me as Angel’s hands gripped my hips, holding me steady as he drove into me. I could feel the pressure building, my body tightening as I approached the brink. 

I felt his cock twitch inside me, he started to pull out.

“I want to feel it,” I murmured. 

His grip on my hips tightening. Nails watched us with an expression that was a mix of desire and triumph, her own hand moving faster between her legs.

As he thrust back into me, I could feel his orgasm approaching. My own climax was just a breath away.

“Now, baby. Now,” he groaned, his hips slamming into mine as he released.

My body shook with the force of it, my walls clenching around him as I came.

For a moment, we all lay there, panting, our bodies slick with sweat and desire.

The room was quiet except for the sound of our breathing, the aftermath of passion hanging heavy in the air.

Angel laid back on the bed, breathless pulling the two of us to his chest. Nails relaxed into the warmth of him and drifted off. I couldn’t sleep. My body still reeling with pleasure.  

“I need a smoke,” Angel murmured as he slipped out of bed. He looked back at me, inviting me to join him in the other room. I glanced at Nails sleeping soundly as I inched out of bed. 

The door closed softly behind us as we made our way back to the living room. Angel’s eyes lingered on me as I sat on the sofa and he pulled a cigarette from the pack. 

“You know I was just fucking with you about the threesome,” he chuckled as he settled on the couch beside me. “But you just fucking blew my mind.” 

I took the cigarette from his hand, taking a long drag. “I liked it,” I confessed, my voice a little shaky. “More than I should have.”

"I know," he said. "But that's the thing about you, Malibu. You've got a wild side that's just waiting to be unleashed."

I took another drag, feeling the warmth spread through my chest. "Maybe I do," I said, looking into his eyes.

“You needed a good fuck,” he said as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, “I’m glad I could give it to you since you don’t seem to be getting it at home.”

I bit my lip, it was true. 

“Don’t worry, I ain’t saying shit,” he said, “neither will she,” he nodded toward the bedroom door.

“Ok, 'cause I don’t know what I’m doing from here,” I confessed. 

“Your ole man find out I know how good your pussy is,” a smirk tugged at his lips, “I’d be dead.”

We shared a laugh, the tension in the room dissipating.

"You don't have to tell anyone," I said, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie with him. "This can be our little secret."

He took the cigarette from my mouth, took a drag and handed it back. "Always is, Malibu."

As we sat there in the quiet, the glow of the cigarette casting shadows on the wall, I realized that the line I’d drawn had blurred.

“What if I wanted to fuck you again?” he asked, “Just you.”

“You and Nails aren’t a thing?” 

“I mean I like to fuck her,” he said, “but she ain’t my ole lady.” 

I took another drag of the cigarette, considering his words. 

“I don’t know,” I said finally, my voice barely a whisper. “But maybe. Just maybe.”

The air was charged as we stared at each other, the possibilities hanging in the balance. The cigarette burned down to the filter, but neither of us moved to put it out. The silence stretched on, thick with anticipation.

Then, without a word, Angel leaned in, capturing my mouth in a kiss. As we broke apart, the cigarette fell to the floor, forgotten. My heart thumped wildly in my chest, the heat pooling in the pit of my stomach once more. 

He leaned me back against the couch, settling between my thighs, his fingers smoothing along my sides, gently, “What if I wanted to fuck you again now?”

I nodded, my breathing ragged. “Okay,” I murmured, my eyes fluttering shut as he began to kiss his way down my body.

His beard tickled my thighs as he neared my aching center, he groaned as his tongue slid over me. Slow, as though he were savoring the taste of me. The room was spinning again, my body responding to his touch as though it had been starved of it for a lifetime.

I knew this was a path that could only lead to more complications, more secrets, but in that moment, I didn't care. 

My hips pressed against him and my thighs started to shake. He stopped, kissing his way up my body, murmuring in my ear, “I want to feel you cum on me.” 

His hand gripped my thigh as he pushed inside me again. 

And just like that, the line between friendship and desire was erased, replaced by a fiery need that burned through every inch of me.

I moaned, my back arching, as he filled me completely, his strokes deep and deliberate. The heat of his body, the scent of our combined arousal, and the sound of his breaths in my ear sent me spiraling towards climax.

My eyes flickered open, meeting his. The hunger in his gaze was undeniable, and for a brief, exhilarating moment, I knew that this was what I wanted, what I needed.

He began to move again, his hips rolling into mine, his hand sliding up to cup my breast, his thumb flicking my nipple. The sensation was too much, and I threw my head back, my eyes squeezing shut as I felt the beginnings of an orgasm unfurling deep within me.

“That’s it, baby,” he moved slow letting me feel every inch of him as I came undone. My walls pulsed around him pulling him deeper. He thrust deep one final time, then stilled inside me. 

Our breathing mingled as we rode out the aftershocks of our shared release. His arms tightened around me, and for a moment, I felt a strange sense of belonging.

As we lay there, tangled in a web of passion and sweat, I knew that this was only the beginning.

The taste of him still lingered on my tongue, the memory of Nails’ touch still electric on my skin.

I glanced over my shoulder at her, watching us with a knowing smile. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to my neck.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” she whispered, her breath sending shivers down my spine.

I couldn’t lie. “Yeah,” I breathed.

Her smile grew wider. “I knew you would,” she murmured, her hand sliding down to caress my hip.

The air in the room was thick with unspoken promises and the lingering scent of sex. 

Angel’s grip on me tightened as he rolled me onto my side, his cock still hard. “Again?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

I nodded, unable to form words, the desire consuming me.

He chuckled, a sound that was dark and delicious. “Greedy little thing,” he whispered, his hand sliding down my body to cup my ass.