Their Bounty (Four Mercenaries 1)

But Tank soothed his nerves with a wave. “I’ll talk to him.”

Clover pulled Boar’s hand under the hem of the T-shirt that reached down to his thighs and guided the fingers to his ass. Boar’s closeness made him warm all over, even though he wasn’t ready for another fuck. “We decided to go bare,” he whispered, getting a kick out of exciting Boar. “I want that with you, too. I trust you.”

Boar’s hand tightened on Clover’s buttock, thick fingers reaching to his hole and gently probing at it. Their eyes met, the connection so magnetic Clover moaned when he felt Boar’s beard tickle his neck during a kiss that came out of nowhere yet felt so right he wished he wasn’t too sore for more.

But another time? He’d be so ready to have Boar climb on top and sink his cock into Clover’s ass.

“Yes. That is so hot,” Boar rasped, rubbing Clover’s entrance with his fingertip.

“I’m sure we can work something out with Drake,” Tank said.

Clover bit his lips, his mind once more preoccupied by what happened earlier. “And Pyro hates me now…”

Boar shook his head. “He doesn’t. He hates how much he wants you despite being angry. He’ll come around.”

Tank snorted. “Yep, he’s pretty obsessed with you, boy. Called you a unicorn the other day.”

Clover already itched for another kiss from Boar. A voice at the back of his head screamed at him to not trust anyone, but he shut it down and leaped into the unknown.

Chapter 13 – Clover

Clover pressed his cheek to Tank’s back, watching the orange sun make its final descent. The Harley trembled between their legs as it sped down the narrow asphalt road leading through dense woods. The scent of Tank’s leather jacket and the herby aroma of the wind blowing in their faces intoxicated Clover every time he breathed it in. He’d never been on a motorcycle before, and he still felt uneasy about it, but when Tank was the one riding, the increased risk caused a thrill rather than fear.

The others drove closely behind them on their way to a business meeting of sorts. Clover didn’t ask questions and went with the flow, trusting that his men wouldn’t take him anywhere unsafe. Though calling them his men might be a bit of an overstatement.

His relationship with Tank was developing fast, and since he’d come out about his feelings to Boar, the two of them also established a bond that felt tighter every day. Boar had insisted that since Clover’s ass was so sore after the rough fuck with Pyro, they’d stick to other activities, but once he’d approached Clover about anal sex last night, another barrier had been crossed.

Clover had felt a bit awkward about finding flower petals on the bed, but he knew Boar was doing his best to make Clover feel wanted, and the cheesy rom-com trick was yet another way to do that. The awkwardness had gone once they’d got down to business.

Boar had come inside Clover’s ass three times that night. Clover had worn glasses just to witness the ecstatic look on Boar’s face when his bare dick sank into Clover’s hole.

Things with Drake and Pyro were another matter.

Drake hadn’t said a word to Clover since he’d called him a ‘cumbucket’, and Clover wasn’t about to break the silence either. He’d had it with begging for attention. Drake was so adamant about his silence he wouldn’t even ask Clover to pass the ketchup when they ate at the same table and instead circled the table to pick it up from right next to Clover’s hand.

Oh, well. Clover couldn’t be everyone’s flavor, but it was a shame because--and he wouldn’t tell that to anyone under torture--Clover had developed an unhealthy fascination with Drake. There had to be a twisted kind of reverse psychology in action, because the more Drake pushed him away, the more Clover couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like if Drake wanted him.

The bondage thing kept rattling around in his brain, and memories of Drake’s satisfaction when he was done immobilizing Clover found their way into Clover’s sexual fantasies. It didn’t help that Drake often trained shirtless alongside Tank for hours on end, as if they didn’t know any other way to spend time together.

Drake’s pale skin had gotten a pink tint to it lately, especially on the nose and shoulders, and the tan made him somehow more human than the perfect pallor he’d sported before. Drake’s body was all lean muscle, and his stomach was so ripped Clover doubted the man had more than five percent fat on him. But there were also marks—old scars on his back, pink dots of burned skin, and a darker mark of raised skin that looked like the letter A in a double circle, on his shoulder.

Drake had once caught him staring through the window, and the stormy glare he’d shot Clover was like bullets from a machine gun. Regardless of Clover’s hopes and dreams, it was obvious to everyone that Drake hated his guts.