70 - Maybe

70 - Maybe

"Man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides."

― André Malraux

. . .

OLIVIA WOODS

Ashton gripped my waist gently. "Little one."

"Hm?" I tried to look where he was looking. He grabbed the back of my neck and smashed his lips with mine. "There's someone there," he muttered into my lips. "I don't what him to know I've seen him." He kissed along my neck as I froze. Someone was watching us. "You are going to stay on my

lap like a good girl, hide your face in my neck as you do when you blush. I will drive us somewhere. Don't let go of me or try to look out of the car till I say so, am I clear?"

"Yes," I whispered, digging my face into his neck.

"Good girl." He started the car, wrapping an arm tightly around my waist as he started driving. "Nothing to be scared of, little one. Your location has been compromised. We have to take you somewhere else now and lose the damn car." It sounded like something to be scared of.

"I'm scared." I held him tightly.

"I'd die before I let anything happen to you, Olivia, I hold the proof of it on my body." He kissed my head. "Reach into the pocket of my jacket and take the phone out. Call Xerxes or Zavier and put it on speaker."

I reached into his suit jacket and gripped the phone. The windows and the rear windshield were tinted, the only danger of anyone spotting us was from the front and Ashton was driving alarming fast, weaving through the streets and roads effortlessly.

I clicked on Xerxes' name as I found it before Zavier's and pressed the speaker button.

It rang once, twice, and then he picked up. "What do you want, Ashton?"

"We have been spotted," Ashton muttered. "Bring a new car. We need to drive back to New York. I wouldn't put bombing the fucking airport past the Russians."

"Fuck," Xerxes muttered. "I'll meet you." He told us the location and then hung up.

"We are going to drive back to New York?"

He hummed. "Jets are too noticeable. I'm not sure about New York, either. They'd expect it but...we have a place there which I doubt any of the Russians know. Kylie and Harry will fly back to New York with your kittens."

"Aren't they in danger?"

"No one knows they are related to us, Little one. No one will bother with them."

I hummed. "Miss Summers?"

"She can take care of herself better than anyone, Olivia." "Okay," I whispered.

He ran a hand through my hair. "No one can hurt you, Little one. No one can hurt us."

I nodded, snuggling into him and closing my eyes. "Sleep."

I did.

. . .

I was woken up when I felt myself being moved. "Little love."

I opened my eyes. I was in a different car now. It seemed to be an SUV. I was lying on Xerxes' lap with Ashton and Zavier sitting in the front. Zavier was driving with his uninjured hand.

"You need to change your clothes," Xerxes told me. I hummed, sitting up and yawning. Wearing the same clothes I had been spotted wearing wasn't a good thing to do if we were trying to be discreet.

Xerxes tugged at my t-shirt. My cheeks burned. He was going to make me change in front of them. He took my t-shirt off and then my pants. I felt Ashton and Zavier glance at me.

"So fucking shy." Xerxes pressed a kiss to my jaw. My cheeks burned brighter.

He put a black dress on me which came down to my knees and then a large black sweater.

"Where are we?"

"Still in Cali," Zavier answered. "It's going to take like two days to get to New York."

Two days confined in a car with them. What could go wrong?

. . .

I whimpered. "Please."

I could not take it anymore. It had just been two hours since I woke up and they had been tormenting me restlessly. My panties were soaked, sticking to me uncomfortably and they refused to rub the ache away.

Zavier settled me between his strong thighs. "Pretty little thing." He kissed my jaw. "The more you beg, the more I want to wreck you."

"You can cum tomorrow," Ashton said, in his hand was a book. "Can't have you being a needy whore, can we, Little one?"

"B-But-"

"No buts, little girl," Xerxes, who was driving, said. "Take your ruined panties off and come here."

I took my panties off and Zavier took them, pocketing them. Xerxes grabbed me, still driving, and put me on his one thigh, pressing right where I needed him.

I whimpered, digging my face into his chest. "Daddy please..."

His hand came down in a harsh spank on my bruised ass. I whimpered. "No, little love," he said gently.

I sniffled. "Why?"

"Because I said so. You don't question daddy, baby." They were so freaking mean.

After some time, the edge subsided and I could breathe without begging them. Xerxes settled me in a way that I was straddling him, which was better than sitting on his thigh which I had soaked.

"You okay?" He asked me.

I nodded. "Yes." I pulled back a little. "I'm hungry."

"Has to be a decent restaurant nearby," Zavier said, taking his phone out of his pocket instantly.

Zavier told Xerxes the directions and soon enough, we had parked in front of a decent-looking diner.

Ashton, who had worn his contacts, ran his hand through his hair several times, messing it up. He wore his leather jacket over his shirt and smirked at me when I stared. He looked good in a leather jacket, almost as good as he looked in suits.

"I'll bring food," Ashton said. "Anything else you need, love?" I shook my head.

"We'll stop for the night soon," Zavier said as Ashton wore a beanie on his head, hiding his golden hair. They were good at this - hiding.

Ashton left soon and for some reason, my heart pounded. It felt as if we were safe as long as we were together. They had told me that there were mafia men following us, keeping guard and making sure we were not being followed.

I wanted Ashton to come back as soon as he left.

"He'll be okay, Kitten," Zavier told me. "He's a tough boy."

And he came back, unharmed, with food and I realized just how important they had become to me. The thought of them getting hurt was a punch to the gut.

Maybe I loved them.

Maybe.

I loved them as much as you could love someone who you didn't know. It was like loving the night. You love it from your balcony but it terrifies you in an alley. I had seen their balconies.

I was yet to see the dark alleys.

. . .