Dulce

25

“You know, I’ve heard of some odd gifts before, but this one takes the title,” Griff drawls with ease, as if he didn’t have his cock buried inside Hunter’s ass while he fucked me less than thirty minutes ago.

I look around the underground bunker located at the coordinates Reese gave me, and grin.

“Do I have the best family or what?”

“So, what happens now?” Hunter asks, changing the subject.

He doesn’t seem fazed by our woodland fuck either, but the bunker is another story.

I look over to where he is leaning against the wall, his eyes on Luke, who is still unconscious, only now he is strapped to a chair.

It was quite comical how my screams of pleasure woke him up, so I’d been forced, half-naked, to pop the trunk and knock him out again. All with my boobs swinging in his face.

It was a bit of a mood killer, and for some reason, Hunter didn’t find it nearly as amusing as I did.

“Now, I wait. You guys should go home. It could be a long time before he cracks.”

“Won’t someone notice he’s missing?”

“It’s the weekend. He’s never around much, and he won’t be scheduled to see any students until Monday at the earliest.”

“Someone will miss you, though, Dulce. You are easy to miss.”

I grin at Hunter’s sweet words.

“Post the photo you took of me last time I was at your place on your social media accounts and tag Everly Sinclair. Make it seem like I’m asleep at your house.”

Hunter’s eyes widen before he snorts.

“We thought you were sleeping. Clearly, I’m not as stealthy as I thought I was.”

“Aw, don’t feel bad. You don’t stand a chance against me.”

Hunter shakes his head before walking forward and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

I’ve had a lot of sexual contact with people over the years, more than some people see in a lifetime. Some I’ve enjoyed, and some I’ve endured. I’ve tried everything from vanilla sex to bondage, yet none of it ever brought me the simple pleasure I get from forehead kisses. They might just be my new favorite thing.

“Call us when you’re finished, and we’ll come pick you up.”

I nod, knowing it will add credence to me spending the weekend with them if people witness me being dropped off by one or both of them.

“You sure you’re going to be okay here with him?” Griff nods to Luke.

I smirk. “Oh yeah, I’ve got this. Go. I promise I’ll call when I’m finished here.”

Griff kisses my temple. Satisfied with my answer, he heads to the door.

Hunter waits for a second, his eyes taking me in for a moment longer before he turns and follows Griff up the steps.

I move to the door and lock it behind them, then wait until I hear the car start up and drive away.

Knowing they are gone, I jog down the steps and move to the center of the room, dragging the coffee table away from the rug. I flip the rug back and use my fingers to feel for the hidden lock.

A slightly raised nail catches my thumb, so I press it. One of the wooden panels pops up as if being released from a coiled spring.

When the panel lifts, I spy a keypad. I type in the coordinates, knowing this is something Reese does. Most people don’t think of using the coordinates as passwords, but Reese likes to be a little different.

A beep signals the sound of a lock disengaging.

With the tips of my fingers, I lift the now loose square of wood and pull it free, seeing that there is another room below this bunker.

“Curiouser and curiouser.”

Bunkers, as a general rule, don’t have basements. It kind of goes against the whole concept. But I knew when I walked in here that it wasn’t a kill room. Too much wood to soak up the blood.

“Ah, I get it.” I have a dumb moment when I realize it’s not a basement under the bunker because bunkers wouldn’t have wooden floors. It’s a single bunker that’s been split over two floors.

Using my cell phone as a flashlight, I shine the light down the hole. I spot the light switch on the wall. The rope ladder that swings from the open hatch seems strong enough to hold me, though God knows how long it’s been here.

I don’t think about it as I make my descent before flicking the light switch on and gazing around the room.

“Well, hello, beautiful,” I whisper, seeing the wet room lined in white tiles with a drain directly in the center underneath a single metal chair. A hose for the built-in power washer is coiled around a rack on the wall closest to me, but otherwise, that’s all the furniture this room holds.

“I guess it’s a bring-your-own-weapon kind of party.” I use the flimsy rope ladder to climb back out of the hole before wandering around the top floor of the bunker, collecting available weapons.

A single ratty floral sofa sits opposite a similar style chair. One looks like it’s seen better days than the other. The floral theme continues with the rug I’ve kicked aside and the curtains that are there for cosmetic reasons, as there are no windows down here.

They look ridiculous, but who am I to complain?

There is a small, dated kitchen area with a hotplate, a tub of utensils beside it, and a stack of plates and cups.

Trust Reese to give me a kill house, but not give me any tools.