Flock (The Ravenhood)

“That was fast,” I round the corner and run smack into Dominic. His eyes widen as he grips my wrist, shaking the knife out of my hand a split second before impact. I sputter as he glares down at me while ripping his earbuds out.

“What the fuck?!”

“I’m s-s-sorry, I thought you were Sean and you heard me.”

“Obviously, I fucking didn’t.” I gawk as he glances around the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“Obviously, I’m cooking,” I snap. “You don’t have to be so rude.”

My anger amuses him. “I like my steak rare.”

“That’s Tyler’s steak.”

“Mine now,” he reaches behind me and pops a cherry tomato in his mouth.

“I’m not cooking a damn thing for you.”

He yanks me to him, and I lose a little bit of breath as he eyes my mouth. “My house, my rules. You cook for one of us. You cook for all of us.”

“Also, Sean’s house, my hands, and my fucking prerogative.”

His smile is cruel. “You like playing house?”

“I’m not playing house. I’m cooking for my—”

“Boyfriend? Cute. You think Sean’s your boyfriend?” He sets me loose, and I pick up the knife between us, tempted to use it as I backtrack. “I didn’t say that. I didn’t say he was my boyfriend.”

“You didn’t have to. Word to the unwise, careful about getting attached, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, what do you know?” I snap, slapping the knife on the counter behind me.

He smirks, opening the fridge and grabbing a water bottle. He downs it as my eyes glide over him. His thick onyx tresses are askew, his bare chest covered in a sheen of sweat, droplets trickling down his eight-pack dispersing into a faint happy trail. I dart my eyes away but feel his gaze weighing heavily on me. “He fucks you in the woods, doesn’t he?” My eyes snap to his, but I clamp my mouth closed. “Let me guess. He took you to a pretty waterfall.”

I feel slapped. Worse than that, I feel…played. But I rise to the occasion.

“Actually, no. He fucked me in his Nova first.”

His answering chuckle is infuriating. “Oh yeah, a backseat Betty?”

“What are you, jealous? I don’t see any girl around here clamoring to cook for you. There’s probably not a dumb enough woman alive.”

He steps toward me, placing the drained bottle on the counter behind me, crowding me to the point I’m forced to lift my chin. “Such nasty, hateful words from a filthy, cum-coated mouth.”

I rear back, and in a second flat, he’s controlling the hand meant to slap him to cover the bulge in his shorts. “Careful, violence makes me hard.” He tilts his head and his eyes flare, the sight of them like the glint of a knife. “I’m a psychiatrist’s wet dream.”

I struggle against him as he runs my hand along his dick, which is very, very hard. It also makes it almost impossible not to estimate the size of it. That sick rationalization makes my stomach turn.

“Too bad for them, I’m not weak.”

“I’m not weak.”

Though drenched in sweat, his clean scent invades me. “Do you come when he fucks you against the trees?”

I look past his shoulder, praying for Sean to appear and come up empty.

“Eyes on me, Pup,” he spits with disgust.

“Let me go.”