My 3 Rockstar Bosses

Fuck.

We’d lost sight of what makes us alphas.

Instead of taking, we were waiting.

Instead of owning, we were asking.

Was this our new way of life?

Instead of possession, were we the possessed?

Fuck.

Had we lost everything to the girl?

Our minds?

Our souls?

Even our hearts?

And swallowing my pride, the decision was made. Joanie was worth it. I didn’t care about my ego anymore. I didn’t care about giving her room, or more time to think. I didn’t care if bribing her with a job was what we had to do.

We had to get her back.

It was the only way to be whole again.

And with that, the six of us rose, grabbing our jackets.

Because our girl has been missing for three months … and we weren’t waiting any longer.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Joanie

It’s been a quiet three months. I’ve been holed up in Karen’s dorm when she’s at class, and when she comes home, I head to the library. Hudson is a great university, but her room’s so small that it’s impossible for us both to be in it at once.

But that’s okay. Because I don’t want to talk about my situation, not really. Of course, it’s been unavoidable with my best friend, but at the same time, I’m talked out. At this point, there isn’t that much more to say.

Because I’m pregnant.

I’m not sure who the father is, and it really doesn’t matter. All I know was that this baby was conceived in a mix of love and pleasure, and I’m not giving the child up.

No way, no how.

This baby is mine, and I’m going to raise her with memories of her fathers. All six of them, swirling in my mind again and again, a sweet yet sorrowful remembrance of days past.

Because I never went back to Nick’s penthouse after the shocking fight, nor did the billionaires come looking for me. Of course not. They were already interviewing replacements the next morning, me just a faded shadow.

But even if I’m a memory, I still have my thoughts, crystal clear and sharp. The smells of the men. The feel of their hands. Those hard bodies and deep voices.

And yes, their cocks.

Those massive ten inch monsters, taking me again and again, sixty inches total.

Sometimes while I doze, I’ll cry out.

“Tom! Charlie! Damien!” is my anguished voice. “Andrew! Aaron! Nick!”