Author's Note: Well, I've had quite a bit of help with this chapter. I managed to gain a beta – along with my editor and chief-of-fucking-everything. And 4 of my faithfuls – and friends, I might add – agreed to read over the very first draft – what I call the "shitty first draft". So there will be personal thank you notes at the end of the chapter for all those lovely ladies.

That being said, this story is unlike anything I've ever done before. I think you'll realize what I'm talking about when you finish the chapter. I wanted this story to be much more intense than all my other Red Canyon stories. I wanted to keep Mac as true to his character in the movie as I could, which is something I think I failed at miserably with all my other Mac stories. I don't want to water him down or romanticize him. I want him to be just as merciless, insatiable, and downright psychotic as he was in the movie. Due to that little fact, I've concocted this sick and twisted story which is aptly named. While this is a Red Canyon story and Mac will be quite a central character within it, I'd like to point out that there will be 5 main characters in this story, not just Mac.

Finally, just a little note to all of my readers out there – especially if you've followed me over from my Walking Dead stories – I've made a personal goal for myself to finish a story for once. So, I'll be focusing solely on "Fatal Attraction" and "This Broken Road" until they're complete. This means that all of you Dixon vixens will still be able to get your fix, even while the Mac girls get theirs. However, I've been in a major "Mac mood" lately so I think it's safe to say that you'll be seeing a lot more of Mac before I'm ready to switch to Daryl.

And, before I leave you all to enjoy this chapter, I have one more announcement: I have created a Facebook page just for this Fanfiction account. So, you can check out the banners I've made for the characters in both of the stories I'll be working on until they're completed, get sneak peeks of the songs that I'll be incorporating into my chapters, and keep updated on what I'm doing. Anyone can send friend requests so don't be shy. You can find me by searching for "Rose Rebellion" – the cover photo is a picture of Daryl Dixon and the profile picture is one of Mac in the cave.

All comments, questions, concerns are welcome – whether positive or negative. The second chapter has already been started, but we'll see how long it takes me to finish it. I've managed to land myself a second job this summer so it's really cut into my writing time.

Fatal Attraction

Chapter 1: Heaven Knows

(Adrenalize me)

Come a little bit closer
Before we begin
Let me tell you how I want it
And exactly what I need

I'm here for one drug
I'm only here for one thing
So come on and tell me,
Can you fly like you're free?

Cause I need to feel
Yeah, I need to say

I must confess,
I'm addicted to this
Shove your kiss straight through my chest
I can't deny, I'd die without this
Make me feel like a God
Music, love, and sex
(Adrenalize me)
I crave excess,
Turning wine into sweat dripping down my neck
I can't deny, I'd die without this
Make me feel like a God
Adrenaline and sex

Get a little bit higher,
So we can fall 'til we bleed
Push a little bit harder
Pull me into the speed

So tell me, can you feel this?
Come into my dream
Are you ready to awaken?
Are you ready to feed?

Cause I need to feel,
Yeah, I need to say

I must confess,
I'm addicted to this
Shove your kiss straight through my chest
I can't deny, I'd die without this
Make me feel like a God
Music, love, and sex
(Adrenalize me)
I crave excess,
Turning wine into sweat dripping down my neck
I can't deny, I'd die without this
Make me feel like a God
Adrenaline and sex

We have to live before we die
We were born to live before we die
Don't you wanna live before you die?
Let me see you live before you die

Right here, right now,
Adrenalize me

Right here, right now,
Adrenalize

Right here, right now,
Adrenalize me

Right here, right now
I'm addicted to this

I must confess,
I'm addicted to this
Shove your kiss straight through my chest
I can't deny, I'd die without this
Make me feel like a God
Music, love, and sex
(Adrenalize me)
I crave excess,
Turning wine into sweat dripping down my neck
I can't deny, I'd die without this
Make me feel like a God
Adrenaline and sex

(Adrenalize me)

~*Dahlia*~

Dahlia Chevenandrova looked up into the rearview mirror, finding that both of her boys were asleep. A smile tugged at her lips as she took in the scene, finding Wick slumped over against the passenger side window of the back seat while Chaz sat behind the driver's seat with his head rested back against the headrest, his mouth hanging open a bit as he snored softly. Both of them were out like a fucking light.

She bit her bottom lip to keep from giggling. They were adorable. She debated about whether or not she should wake them up but finally decided to let them sleep. They'd have all their shit to unload from the damn U-Haul that was following them once they got to their new house in Caineville, Utah. Dahlia had gone out to check it out herself, meeting with a creepy ass Mexican named Walter Sanchez. Dahlia wasn't racist, not by any means. Hell she had friends of varying races and ethnicities back in L.A. But this Walter guy had a tendency to let his eyes linger on her a bit too long and he liked to let them roam over her body, making awkwardly lengthy pauses at her breasts and her ass. Her skin had crawled any time he'd looked at her when he'd been showing her around the house.

Walter apparently owned a few houses that were up for rent in the tiny little Podunk town of Caineville. He also owned the motels that sat across from The Luna Mesa, the only bar in town, which he just so happened to conveniently own and run himself as well. The only buildings in town were all locally owned. Deb's Diner was the only restaurant in Caineville so the residents didn't have a lot of options as far as dining out was concerned. Mac's Auto Body was the only repair shop for miles so there was no doubt that it brought in quite a bit of business from the locals. The small town also housed a tiny doctor's office, a post office, a single grocery store, a hardware store, a charming little church, a gas station that also served as a convenience store, and a farm supply store. There was a tiny police station too but she was willing to bet that the Caineville police were a joke. And that's exactly what made Caineville the ideal town for relocating. No one would ever think to look for them in a tiny town. So, when she'd discovered that Walter had a few houses up for rent while she'd been at the bar, she'd agreed to check some of them out. She'd decided to go with the last one that he'd shown her since it was the best he had to offer.

Dahlia had known from the second she walked into the little house that it was home. She could just feel it. A calm, relaxing sensation had seeped into her body as Walter had shown her around the place. The first room in the house was a living room with cream colored walls and soft, light beige carpeting. The kitchen had light cream linoleum and the walls were painted a deep red with cherry wood cabinets and the countertops were made of shiny, cream colored granite. There was one bathroom upstairs, housing a simple, white porcelain bathtub, a matching toilet, and simple, black cabinets with the same cream granite countertop from the kitchen. The carpeting in the bathroom was short but cushiony and it was cream in color to match the countertop. The walls were painted the lightest shade of blue, complementing the rest of the bathroom nicely.

There were three bedrooms in the house, one with deep red walls and cream colored carpet that she knew Chaz would be quick to claim as his own, one with navy colored walls and matching carpeting that she knew Wick would call dibs on, and one with black walls and cream carpet that she wanted for herself. Granted, the boys would wind up sleeping with her of a night. There was no denying that. But at least it would give them a place to keep their things and, if they ever had any guests, she knew that the boys would fight over who had to give up their room to said guests.

The house even had a complete basement, which housed a living room area that she knew the boys would want to claim as their "man cave", a pantry built under the stairwell, a full set of cabinets, a washer and dryer set, a second bathroom that housed a shower instead of a bathtub, an old refrigerator that had been left behind by its previous owners, and a deep freeze. She'd loved the house at first sight. So what if it didn't have a garage. So what if it was a few miles from town. So what if it wasn't upscale. She didn't need fancy things. She and the boys just needed a place to lay low for a while. Hell, maybe they'd even settle down in Caineville if they liked it. All she knew was that they had to find a place to hide out until shit cooled down back in L.A.

She navigated her way down the main street of Caineville, passing through the town square, and continued on until she found the turn off onto the dirt road that would take her out to their new home. When she finally pulled up in front of the place, she found Walter's old truck already parked in front of the house. She turned the car off and tugged her keys from the ignition before unfastening her seatbelt and turning around in her seat to reach back and gently shake Wick's leg before giving one of Chaz's legs the same treatment.

"Hey, wake up, boys. We're here," she informed them.

Wick gave a little groan and tried to wriggle closer to the side of the car but Chaz's head snapped up and he began to look around, taking in their surroundings.

After a couple minutes' worth of assessment, Chaz reached out to smack Wick in the chest with a loud, satisfying whack, commanding, "Wake the fuck up, ya lazy fucker."

Dahlia laughed at that and chided in a teasing tone, "Oh! Like you've got any room ta talk. You were snorin' away, usin' your damn mouth as a fuckin' fly trap, head tipped back on the seat and mouth wide open."

She turned her attention to a now-grumbling Wick and reached out to give his knee a gentle, reassuring squeeze, murmuring in a soothing tone, "Come on, baby. It's best ta get this shit over with so we can head ta the bar and grab some food. The sooner we get all this shit moved in, the better. It'll be one less thing we'll hafta worry about."

Wick grumbled some more, mumbling something about "too fuckin' early for this shit" even as he reached out to find the lever to flip the front passenger seat up and push himself to his feet. He found the handle of the door and pushed it open, climbing out of Dahlia's 1990 Chevy Camaro. Dahlia slid out of the driver's seat and flipped the seat up for Chaz to climb out of the back.

Walter hopped out of his truck and started over towards them. Dahlia felt Chaz reach out to drape a strong, tattooed arm over her shoulders as he lowered his head a little and narrowed his hazel eyes at the 60-something Mexican man with a gray ponytail that matched his cholo mustache and small beard he was sporting. Wick eyed him too while he leaned against the side of the Camaro.

"You Walter?" Chaz asked the man.

Walter just nodded to him and Chaz gave a slow nod. She watched as both of her boys eyed Walter and he did the same. They looked each other up and down, clearly sizing each other up. Dahlia rolled her eyes. Men and their stupid testosterone!

"So my girl here tells me ya really hooked us up," Chaz commented, gesturing towards the house with one hand.

He eased Dahlia closer, tucking her into his side as he stared Walter down, and Dahlia wrapped an arm around his waist, resting her cheek over his firm, broad chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and Wick narrowed his hazel eyes at Walter a bit.

After a few moments of awkward silence had passed, which really felt like hours to Dahlia, she gave Chaz's waist a slight squeeze before stepping away from him a bit and scolding gently, "All right, boys. Put your dicks away. Cut it with the pissin' match. There's no need for hostility here. Walter hooked us up with a really nice place, real cozy and homey. So we should be thankin' him, not castin' glares and silent threats."

Walter reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, reaching out to hand them to Dahlia. Chaz was quick to stick out his hand though and Walter paused, looking at first Dahlia and then Chaz before looking back at Dahlia again.

Dahlia rolled her green eyes and finally stated, "Go ahead and give them ta him."

Walter nodded and dropped the set of keys into Chaz's big hand.

"There's one to the front door and the back door both," Walter stated, gesturing with a nod of his head towards the keys he'd just handed over to Chaz.

Awkward silence ensued again before Wick pushed himself off the side of Dahlia's bright purple Camaro and sauntered over to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. Walter was staring. again. And it was starting to piss the boys off.

Both of them narrowed their eyes at him and Chaz asked, "You got a fuckin' starin' problem, old man?"

"I was waiting to see if you folks needed help moving your things in," Walter replied, even though they all knew it wasn't true.

"Nah, man," Wick answered, shaking his head, "We got it."

Walter gave a slow nod and reached up to stroke at his beard with his thumb and index finger as he narrowed his dark eyes a little.

"Well…" Chaz hinted, "Go on. Get!"

He gestured with a wave of his hand towards Walter's truck and Walter narrowed his eyes into little slits, glaring at Chaz before giving another slow nod and heading over to his truck. He climbed in and backed out of the drive. When he was out of sight, Dahlia finally released a full body shudder. The guy gave her the fucking creeps.

Both of the boys tightened their hold on her, peering down at her and leaning down to press a tender kiss to either of her temples.

"Don't you fuckin' worry. We won't be leavin' ya alone around that fucker," Chaz reassured her, "The creepy ass motherfucker better never let me catch those fuckin' eyes of his roamin' over my baby again."

Dahlia grinned up at him and he leaned down to capture her lips with his. It started as a simple, quick little peck. But it quickly escalated, turning into a tongue-twisting, toe-curling, moan-inducing kiss that had her fisting her hands in the front of his black t-shirt with a Metallica logo on it and tugging him closer to her. Their tongues danced and tangled. She'd always thought that Chaz had a knack for kissing. It was like he made love to her mouth with his. It was always so sensual, so passionate, so addicting. And, just like she always did, she felt a moan of disappointment bubbling up from her throat as he eased back from the kiss. She gave a little pout and he chuckled, the corners of his mouth quirking upward in that characteristic little smirk of his.

"Oh now… No need ta go poutin'. There'll be plenty of time for more of that later," he assured her, giving her a little wink as his smirk stretched even further across his face, "We've gotta get all our shit unpacked first."

"Hey! Ya fuckin' dick," Wick accused, "Why do ya always hafta hog her?"

Chaz just smirked over at him and started for the U-Haul, leaving Wick to turn her around to face him and give her a cocky, crooked little smirk. She bit her bottom lip and his smirk grew wider. Then he leaned in, capturing her lips with his and coaxing her to part her lips for him with teasing little flicks of his tongue. She relented, granting him access, and he took full advantage of the situation, one of his big hands coming up to sift his long, slender fingers through her curly, chin length, jet-black hair and tip her head back. He deepened the kiss then, demanding her submission and rewarding her with a groan when she gave it.

"Hey! More movin', less fuckin' around," Chaz hinted as he headed towards the house with a box he'd pulled from the U-Haul.

Wick eased back from the kiss but rolled his eyes at his best friend.

"Fuckin' hypocrite," Wick mumbled under his breath.

"I heard that, asshole!" Chaz called as he carried the first box into their new home.

"Good, ya dirty little bastard!" Wick retorted as he headed towards the back of the moving truck.

Dahlia bit her bottom lip, trying to hold her laughter at bay, and went over to the U-Haul, making sure to tell Skinny Pete thank you for taking the day off of work to come help them get their shit moved into their new house. He just nodded and asked what she wanted him to carry in first. She waited until he was out of sight before she reached out to catch a handful of an unsuspecting Wick's ass.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, Dahl!" he cried in surprise as he stood straight again, having reached out to grab a box from the truck.

She gave him a wicked little grin and waggled her raven colored brows at him, teasing, "Well I've gotta have somethin' ta tide me over during all this movin', now don't I?"

He just chuckled and shook his head at her, starting for the house with the box he'd grabbed.

The group had gotten all the furniture situated in the house first. Then they had carried all the boxes, totes, and duffle bags in to set them in the right rooms, based on the neatly written labels Dahlia had put on them to inform her and the boys of their contents. When the truck was finally empty, Skinny Pete headed out. He had a long drive back to L.A. to return the U-Haul they'd rented.

Dahlia was standing in the living room, gazing around at all the boxes when she heard a familiar set of footsteps shuffling across the linoleum in the kitchen, heading towards the living room. She gave a little groan of defeat as she realized that she had no idea where the fuck to start when it came to unpacking the boxes. They'd spent hours unloading the truck and carrying everything into their new house and now she was exhausted. She'd done just as much heavy-lifting as the boys had. She wasn't one to just sit around and watch while the others pitched right in to help.

"Fuck the boxes," she finally decided, voicing her thoughts more to herself than Chaz, who had come to stand just inside the doorway, resting one strong forearm against the doorframe and gazing at her, "I'll get around to 'em later."

"Good," Chaz agreed, pushing himself off the doorframe and heading into the living room, "I'm about ta take a nap and I could use some fuckin' company."

"Well you could always ask Wick," she teased.

Upon seeing his whole face scrunch up in disgust, she giggled uproariously.

While she might fuck around with both of the guys, there was no question about their sexuality. They were both strictly heterosexual. Pussy and tits were the only things that interested them. Well, to be fair, she was starting to believe that Chaz was onto something when he said that every man had a "trifecta of attention", like a gravitational pull that drew a man's attention to 3 particular parts of the female anatomy. Every man was different. They were attracted to different features on a woman's body. She'd come to learn over the 5 years that she and Chaz Mathers had been dating that he was an "ass, tits, and lips" man. Yet Wick Ramsey, a mutual best friend that she and Chaz had known since they were in grade school and who she'd also been dating for 2 years, was a "legs, lips, and tits" man.

Over the past 2 years, Dahlia had gotten a lot of scrutiny and scorn for dating two men. Honestly, it had never really been something she'd considered until the boys had approached her with the proposition. Wick had been the closest mutual friend she and Chaz had had when they were growing up or, hell, all their life for that matter! One drunken make-out session with both of them had led to a sober one. One sober make-out session with both of the boys had led to an awful lot of gratifying foreplay between her and the boys until she'd become exhausted that night. That little round of "Chaz eats Dahlia's pussy while she sucks Wick off" had led to a drunken threesome. And it had just spiraled from there. One drunken one became one sober one. One sober one became 3 sober ones. And, the next thing she knew, she was being propositioned by the boys to see if she wanted to make the 3 of them a permanent thing. Hell, if someone had told her back in high school that she'd wind up dating and fucking both of her best friends, her two closest friends that she'd had since they were still in diapers, she would've laughed right in their fucking faces.

She'd heard it all. Indecisive whore. Nasty slut. Greedy little bitch. White trash tramp. You name it, she'd heard it. Hell she'd been called everything but a damn white girl. But she didn't let it bother her. Shit the only opinions that mattered to her were those of Chaz and Wick. As far as she was concerned, everyone else could fuck off. The sneers didn't bother her. The looks of disgust or shock or even horror didn't faze her. The hushed whispers and taunting laughter didn't make her cringe. None of it bothered her. Life was too fucking short to be bothered by petty shit like unimportant douchebags' opinions of her. She was happy with her boys. They treated her with respect and showered her with all of their love and affection. And that's all that mattered to her. As long as she had them in her life, she could tackle anything. They'd met each other when they were still in diapers and they'd become a close-knit unit once they reached kindergarten, little partners in crime. And now they were a little love triangle. No. They were a contented little love triangle, one that didn't let bullshit or drama affect them.

Chaz made his way over to her and stood in front of her, his tall, muscular frame coming to a stop about a foot away from her as he cocked one dark brow at her and crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest. Chaz was the kind of man that all the women were into and, to be honest, she'd discovered that back in junior high. Chaz made her fucking cream her panties, even from some of the most innocent things he did. She was into the bad boys, always had been, and he sure as hell pulled the persona off. Between the tattoos, the piercings, the slightly-baggy jeans, and the classic rock and metal t-shirts he wore, he fit the bad boy persona to a T.

Her eyes roamed over her lifelong best friend and long-time boyfriend, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip as she let her eyes rake over his features. She took her time, letting her eyes take in every detail of him.

He was clean-shaven. He kept his jet-black hair cut short. He had a gauge in both ears. Chaz's eyes were the most eerie shade of hazel Dahlia had ever seen. They were the strangest mixture of a caramel and green, a light shade of hazel that she'd never seen before. They were several shades lighter than Wick's. His lips were full and sensual, hiding a set of straight, white teeth and he had his bottom lip pierced, closer to the right corner of his mouth. His cheeks were slender, his jaw line firm, and his chin rounded and slightly-dimpled. His nose was neither too thin nor too wide and it complemented the rest of his features. In fact, his features were undeniably masculine and yet adorably boyish at the same time. When he gave her that dimpled grin that made a smile stretch clear across her own face, he looked like the most adorable man she'd ever known. But, when he was pissed off, his whole face would harden into a mask of pure rage that would make even a grown man cringe and slink away.

He had a broad frame that was toned and firm with muscle, having broad shoulders, a firm chest, and a trim tummy that led down to narrow hips and long legs. What made him even sexier in her eyes though were his tattoos. He had thick, black, tribal tattoos, one with jagged-looking edges that almost resembled thorns that snaked down his left arm and the whole right side of him was covered in an elaborate display of tribal flames that stretched across his right shoulder, chest, back, side, and stomach, clear down to his hip and trailed all the way down his arm to his wrist. There was a black rose on the left side of his neck, a symbol of the gang they'd run with back in L.A. Hell he even had a black, tribal dragon snaking down his left leg, spanning about half of his calf muscle and stretching from the rise of his calf clear down to just above the bend between his foot and his leg.

Chaz gave her that adorable, dimpled little smirk of his and, the next thing she knew, she was being hoisted up into the air and slung over his shoulder.

"Woooo!" she cried in surprise as she was hoisted up over his shoulder.

Her bright green eyes widened as she looked down at the living room floor and she fisted her hands in the back of his t-shirt, clinging to it for dear life as he wrapped one strong arm around her waist to keep her from falling and brought his other hand up to give her a good, solid smack on the ass. His hand landed on her denim-clad ass with a loud, satisfying whack. She bit her bottom lip as she felt her pussy clench. Damn him for playing dirty!

"Chaz Mathers, you put me the fuck down!" she demanded as he turned and started carrying her towards the kitchen.

"Ya want down?" he asked, letting his arm loosen for just a second so she slipped forward a little.

She shrieked and clawed at his back frantically, trying desperately to get some sort of grip on him. Hell any grip would do.

He just laughed and gave her another swat on the ass.

"Ya said ya wanted down, Dahlia," he razzed.

"I swear ta God, Chaz," she growled, "If you fuckin' drop me, you'll go a fuckin' month without anything from me."

"Ooooo!" he cried, "That's a little harsh, now isn't it, Dahlia? You and I both know that ya couldn't last a fuckin' month without some form of pleasure. I mean shit! Ya can't even go one goddamn day without wantin' one or both of us ta getcha off."

"And don't I return the fuckin' favor?" she questioned, turning herself a bit to glare at the back of his head, not that he could see her.

"Course ya do," was his answer.

"That's right. But you drop me and you'll be gettin' nothin' for a fuckin' month. I'll go ta Wick for everything," she insisted as he carried her through the kitchen and down the hall towards her new bedroom.

"Bull-shit," he tried to call her bluff, "You're like a fuckin' bitch in heat, Dahl. You're hornier than half of the damn guys I know."

She gasped and then turned her head to glare at the back of his head again, narrowing her eyes into little slits even as she growled, "Ooooo! That's gonna fuckin' cost ya, buddy. We'll see who's as fuckin' horny as a goddamn bitch in heat."

He'd made it into her room and he closed the door with the heel of his foot. She chose that opportunity to attack. She gave a wicked little grin and then leaned in, sinking her sharp little teeth into his muscular ass cheek over his boxers since his belt was loose today and his jeans were baggy enough to display a little of his boxer-clad ass.

"Yow!" he shouted in protest, quickly tossing her down on the bed to reach back and rub at his now-sore ass cheek over the charcoal gray colored cotton of his boxers.

She bounced a bit until she was able to prop herself up on her hands and her ass, a triumphant grin curling at her full, slightly-pouty lips, and he questioned, "You're mighty fuckin' proud of your little self, aren't ya?"

Her smirk only stretched wider across her face.

"I'll have you know my fuckin' ass cheek is offended," he informed her.

"Good," she replied, "Because the asshole it belongs to offended me."

His dark brows hiked up his forehead and he inquired, "You callin' me an asshole?"

She just held her hands up, palm side facing him, and retorted, "Hey… If the shoe fits…"

"Baby, the only thing that's gonna be fittin' is my dick in your pussy," he told her, moving around to the foot of the bed and reaching down to unfasten the buckle of his belt.

A wicked little grin curled her full, sensual lips as an idea came to her mind. She knew exactly how she could get back at him.

She slid from the bed even as she heard him asking, "Where ya goin'?"

She pulled the bedroom door open and called, "Wick?"

"Yeah?!" she heard him call from his room just before he poked his head out of the doorway, looking down the hall towards her room.

"You down for some fun?" she asked him.

He stepped out into the hallway and started for her room, questioning, "What the fuck kinda question is that? Ya know I'm always down ta do whatever ya want. This dick is at your disposal, 24/7, Dahl."

"And what if I want your mouth instead?" she questioned.

He gave her a little grin as he met her at the doorway of her bedroom, leaning down until his lips brushed hers.

"Mmm… That too…" he purred just before his lips met hers for a sizzling kiss that had her whimpering for more.

"And your hands?" she inquired, cocking one raven-colored brow at him.

He gave her a sly little smirk, waggling his dark brows at her, and informed her, "Those too."

His large hands filled themselves with her ample ass cheeks even as his long, slender fingers squeezed and kneaded at her over the denim of her jeans.

"And what if I want the whole Wick?" she asked him.

He gave her a shit-eating grin even as a mischievous glint filled his dark hazel eyes and he answered, "Then my greedy little lover can have it all…"

She gave a crooked little grin at that and fisted her hand in the front of his plain, black t-shirt, tugging him to her and leaning up to crush her mouth to his. She wasn't disappointed either. One of his hands came up to cup the back of her head, holding her in place while his tongue delved into her mouth and explored every little nook and cranny. His tongue fought hers for dominance but she won. She voiced her triumph with a little moan, smirking against his lips, and his other arm came down to find its way underneath her ass, hoisting her up onto his hips and carrying her into her bedroom. He turned, closing the door and pressing her up against it. Her long, slender legs wrapped tight around his slender waist, one of her hands finding its way into his hair. Her fingers fisted the spiked, jet-black locks.

She captured his tongue between her lips and sucked greedily at it, knowing that it always drove him crazy. He spilled a groan into her mouth, the deep, throaty sound making her thighs tighten around him as her pussy clenched with desire. She tightened her arms around his neck and her hand fisted a little tighter in his hair. He gave a slight grunt as he rocked his hips up into hers, and she moaned her approval, her hips rolling down to meet his. He found a steady rhythm, grinding himself against her, and she nipped at his bottom lip as she eased back from the kiss.

He gave a quick, hard buck of his hips and she threw her head back against the door with a thunk, moaning as her hips ground towards his. She glanced over at Chaz, finding him leaning against her dresser, one dark brow cocked as he watched with his muscular, tattooed arms crossed over his broad chest. She gave a little smirk and her hands found their way down to Wick's ass over his jeans. She gave him a firm, two-handed squeeze and he voiced a little growl into her ear, rocking his hips against her again.

"I think Chaz here needs a lesson on how ta respect women," Dahlia informed Wick.

Wick's head whipped around, his dark hazel eyes narrowing, and he demanded, "The fuck ya do ta our girl?"

Chaz opened his mouth to speak but Dahlia beat him to it, answering, "He acted like he was gonna drop me. And you know I'm scared ta death of fallin'. And, when I told him if he dropped me he wouldn't get any favors from me for a fuckin' month, he proceeded ta tell me that I was as horny as a damn bitch in heat and that I couldn't even go a day without one of you gettin' me off, let alone a whole month."

Wick sighed and told Chaz, "Well ya know ya shouldn't act like you're gonna drop her. She hates that shit. And she can kinda use her body against us. You and I both know that."

Then he turned his head back to look at Dahlia again and stated, "But he's kinda right, Dahl. You couldn't last long without one of us gettin' ya off and ya know it."

She gasped, her green eyes growing real wide before they narrowed in anger.

"Put me down," she instructed firmly.

She let her legs fall from around his waist so that only his arm was holding her up on his hips.

"Now, Dahlia –," Wick started.

"Put… me… down," she repeated, emphasizing each word this time.

He slowly lowered her to the floor and she stepped away from him. She went to go sit on her bed, the black and maroon colored bedspread dipping a little as she took a seat.

She pointed at first Chaz and then Wick before commenting, "Fine. If you both seem ta think that I'm just some damn bitch in heat and that I can't last without either one of you getting me off, then I guess I'll just take care of it myself. I don't need a fuckin' man ta make me cum. And I sure as shit don't need ta help either one of you get your damn rocks off if that's all you think of me."

"Now, Dahlia, I didn't mean it like –," Wick tried to tell her.

"No. You said it," she insisted.

She knew they were both right. She couldn't last long without either one of them or both of them bringing her to a climax. There was no denying that. But she had her pride too, just like any man did. And it had been wounded today. By both of the men she loved. Now she had a point to make. And she'd be damned if she didn't make them suffer a bit while she was at it. Sure, she'd probably cave by the end of the night and invite one or both of them into her bed for the night. She never liked to go to bed mad at either of them and she sure as hell didn't like to sleep alone. But she had an idea that just might make them cave first.

She reached for the hem of her shirt and tugged it up and over her head, tossing it to the floor.

"Dahlia…" Chaz said, his tone full of warning, as his jaw clenched.

She knew she was playing dirty, that she wasn't fighting fair. And she knew that he knew she could win if she played her cards right.

She reached behind her for the clasps of her bra, working them open and sliding the straps of the black, lacy garment down her arms. She let it fall to the floor and scooted back on the bed, lying back to rest her head on the pillows as she let her eyes drift shut.

"Mmm…" she sighed, "This is a comfy spot."

She brought her hands up to rest them over her slender stomach, slowly working them on up to her ribs, which were just barely visible under her skin if she moved this way or that, and on up to her breasts. Her hands kneaded and squeezed at the soft flesh there. She was a 28C, not the biggest but not too small either. The boys never complained. In fact, they quite liked her body, every detail of it, which never ceased to surprise and amaze her. Her fingers found her nipples, squeezing and tugging until they were taut, puckered little peaks on the soft mounds of her breasts.

Once she was satisfied that they were tauntingly aroused enough, she let her long, dark, thick lashes flutter open to reveal both of the boys watching her, Chaz still leaning against her dresser and Wick resting against the wall. She slid her hands back down over her ribs and her stomach to find the button of her jeans. She worked her belt open before popping the button on her jeans and slowly working the zipper down, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip as her eyes met first Chaz's and then Wick's. She worked her jeans down her long legs, legs that were slender but toned with muscle, and let them fall to the floor.

Dahlia spread her thighs wide, giving them a glimpse at the black lace boy shorts that matched the bra that was already on the floor. She worked a couple fingertips up over the material, nibbling at her lower lip as she worked her fingers up and down over the length of her slit over the lace.

"Dahlia…" Wick ground out of tightly clenched teeth, his nostrils flaring in desire even as his dark hazel eyes trained on the motions of her fingers, watching her every move as his eyes grew darker and darker

A wicked little grin curled her full, slightly-pouty lips. She knew that she was getting to them.

"You're right," she said, "Fuck this. I think it'd be much better without these damn things in the way."

She slid her thumbs under the straps and started to slide them down her long legs. She gave the panties a kick once they were down to one foot and both of the boys reached for them as they flew towards them. She giggled as she watched Wick catch them and Chaz turn to face him, both of them growling at each other.

"Give 'em here," Chaz demanded, holding his hand out as he waited for Wick to hand them over.

"Fuck you, man. I caught 'em," Wick snapped, tightening his grip on the lacy garment

He brought the panties up to his face, taking a deep whiff of them and giving a wolfish grin at his best friend.

"Ya dirty little fucker! Hand 'em over! You got your fuckin' turn," Chaz growled.

"Fuck you!" Wick spat, "Finders keepers."

He went to tuck her panties into his back pocket and Chaz tried to reach around him.

"You son of a bitch!" Chaz snarled.

"You're just pissed 'cause you didn't catch 'em yourself," Wick retorted.

They both knew it was true and a little snarl ripped from Chaz's throat as he reached for the panties again. Dahlia knew she had to step in before it led to an all-out brawl. Over her worn panties for fuck's sake!

"Boys, boys, boys!" Dahlia chided, drawing their attention to her again as their heads snapped around to look at her, "You keep arguin' like a buncha fuckin' punks and you'll miss the show."

She slowly ran her hand down her stomach, spreading her thighs wide for them to see. She bit her lower lip, a low, throaty purr rumbling up from her throat as she worked a couple fingertips over her clit. Her thighs trembled slightly and her hips jerked towards her hand. She'd always been a little more sensitive than other women, a fact that her boys certainly loved. They never had to wonder if they were pleasing her because her body reacted shamelessly. She boldly voiced her praise and she never hesitated to make requests. Hell she'd even taken to bargaining with the boys to get what she wanted.

She swirled her fingertips over the sensitive little nub in a few more circles before bringing her fingers down to her slit, slowly sliding them up and down the length of it, from bottom to top and back again. She poised a single finger right at her entrance and gave the boys a seductive little smirk, biting at the corner of her lower lip.

"Dahlia, ya don't hafta –," Chaz started to say.

"Oh but I do," she insisted, "I'm just a horny little bitch, remember? I'm as horny as a bitch in heat."

She slowly worked her finger inside, sliding it in clear down to the bottom knuckle, until her palm was pressing against her heated flesh. She moaned as her eyes drifted shut, her head tipping back on the bed as her short, dark curls splayed out across the pillows.

Dahlia eased her finger out, only to slide it back in again, rocking her hips to meet her hand this time.

"Mmmmm…" she purred.

She added a second finger and curled them, stroking that rough, spongy patch along her upper wall that made her toes curl and her back arch. Her hips stuttered and a short, sharp moan of pleasure spilled from her lips.

She stroked and teased, working her fingers in and out of her pussy until she grew wet enough that her body began to make rude little noises with every thrust of her fingers. She bit her bottom lip and gazed at first Chaz and then Wick. She was just starting to wonder how long it was going to take them to crack when the first one caved.

"Man, fuck this!" she heard Wick cry, drawing her attention over to him as he reached for the hem of his shirt, "This is your fight, Chaz, not mine."

Wick tugged his plain black t-shirt up and over his head before tossing it to the floor.

"Fuckin' traitor!" Chaz spat, "That shit's mutiny right there, man. I'll remember that."

"Ask me if I give a fuck," was Wick's response as he toed out of his black and white, high top Converse and reached for his black belt with silver studs all the way around it.

He unbuckled it and bent over to tug off his socks.

"Mmmmm…" Dahlia purred, "That's it, baby. Take it off. Come a little closer."

She lifted her unoccupied hand to crook a finger at him, grinning from ear to ear as he followed her instructions, popping the button on his jeans even as he headed towards the bed. Unlike Chaz, he preferred his jeans a little snugger. Today, he was wearing a black pair of jeans with rips in both knees.

The boys had their similarities but they also had their differences. While both of them were toned with muscle, Chaz had a broader frame and was slightly taller. While neither of the boys had a defined 6-pack of washboard abs, they still had slim waists and narrow hips, their torsos forming an alluring V-shape. And both of the boys had multiple tattoos. Something she'd never confess to the boys was that Wick was slightly thicker than Chaz in the cock department, even though Chaz was just slightly longer. Both boys had a small gauge in both of their ears and, while Chaz had his lip pierced, Wick had his left nostril pierced, usually sporting a tiny little diamond stud or a thin, silver hoop through the little hole.

While Chaz had short, jet-black hair, Wick had spiked, jet-black hair. Wick's eyes were a dark hazel that often looked brown instead of hazel unless he was in certain lighting or you looked really close. Wick had long sideburns that were usually hidden by his hair since he always kept it in a messily-spiked disarray. His cheeks were slender, angular, and his cheek bones were set slightly higher up on his face than those of the average man. In fact, his features were almost delicate. And his lips weren't quite thin but they weren't quite full either. His jawline was firm and he kept a short, trimmed beard on his rounded chin. Wick was just slightly leaner than Chaz and he was just a few inches shorter than Chaz too, standing at 5'10" while Chaz was around 6'1". Wick's pecs were a bit larger though, big enough and firm enough that Dahlia could grasp them with her hands for support. Wick had a slightly darker complexion too. It had always been easier for him to tan than the rest of the boys that they ran with back in L.A.

As far as his tattoos went, Wick had a set of intricate, black, tribal wings that spanned the width of his broad back and shoulders and a black rose on his left hip, along with a string of roses and thorns that trailed down his left arm and thick, black, tribal flames that stretched down his right arm. He even had a deadly looking viper that spanned the length of his calf muscle on his right leg, from just below the bend of his knee down to the bend between his leg and his foot.

As Dahlia watched, Wick shucked his jeans, revealing the fact that he hadn't worn anything underneath of them that day. She grinned at that, finding that his cock was already semi-hard.

"Mmmmm…. Bring that over here, baby," Dahlia told him, giving a little backwards jerk of her head.

He was quick to climb onto the bed and crawl over towards her. She loved that, the fact that he followed her every order without hesitation, without question. It's why he'd been her third in command back in L.A. Chaz had been her right hand man, her second in command. While both Wick and Chaz were natural born leaders, Wick tended to do what she asked without questioning her. Chaz looked at the bigger picture, the long-term effects, not just what would happen for the next couple of days. He kept the group as a whole in mind instead of just himself, a quality that was necessary for any gang leader to have in order to become successful and to stay successful. Wick was fine with enforcing the rules and he was one hell of a smooth-talking son of a bitch. He could weasel his way out of almost anything. He was the best damn salesmen they'd had. But Chaz was better at the business end when it came to running the gang. Dahlia had been one of the only female gang leaders in the big city of Los Angeles and there was no denying that it was one hell of a tough game, downright brutal at times. So she'd needed the two toughest men in the gang for her second and third in command. They'd each had their own responsibilities, just like she had, and they'd reported to her. The ongoing joke had always been that they were her bitches instead of her being theirs. And, because of them, the Black Rose Rebellion had risen to become one of the most notorious gangs in all of Los Angeles County.

Dahlia grinned up at Wick as he crawled towards her, coming to sit back on his heels off to her right side a bit, just below her foot. He was far enough away that he could watch her every move but close enough that he could reach out and touch her if she allowed him to. And she knew that that's what his current placement was meant to signify to her. She was the one calling the shots, and both of the boys knew it.

Both of the boys teased each other on occasion, saying that the other one was pussy whipped. But both of them knew that it was true, that the greatest form of punishment Dahlia could deal out was refusing to please them, to give them some sort of sexual attention. The silent treatment made them restless but the "no sex" rule was what really got them groveling and damn near begging her for forgiveness. She wasn't stupid. She knew that she was their greatest weakness and she knew just how to work things to her advantage. And the boys knew that.

Dahlia slowly eased her fingers out of her pussy and held her hand out towards Wick in a silent offering. He was quick to reach out and wrap his hand around her wrist even as he leaned down, slipping first one of her fingers into his mouth and then the other. His warm, wet tongue glided over her fingers, first one and then the other, as he sucked greedily and then licked and lapped at them, making sure to lap up every drop of the sweet cream her body had spilled for her boys. He watched her with those dark hazel eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure. He groaned, a deep, throaty sound, before slowly easing her hand away from his mouth and letting her fingers slide out from between his lips. Chaz growled, narrowing his eyes at them, clearly displaying that he wasn't fucking happy about it.

She bit her bottom lip and asked Wick, "You want a taste, baby?"

He gave a low growl and his eyes grew even darker at just the thought of getting to bury his face between her thighs and lap her up.

"Well… If you do somethin' for me, I'll letcha eat my pussy, Wickie," she purred, "I'm still not quite ready ta forgive ya yet."

He pouted at that and asked, "Whaddya want me ta do?"

"Who's the horny one now?" she questioned.

"I am," he answered without hesitation, "God I fuckin' want it."

She smiled at him and praised, "That's right. I want you ta take one of those big hands and wrap it around your cock, baby…"

She waited, watching as he reached right down to do as she'd told him. She watched as he wrapped one big hand and those long, slender fingers around the thick girth of his semi-hard dick.

She bit her bottom lip and nodded, voicing her approval with a low purr.

"That's it. Good boy," she reassured him, "Now slide it up and down, nice and slow."

Again, she watched as he followed her orders, working his fist up and down the thick length of his dick.

She nibbled at her lower lip as her eyes followed the motions of his hand.

She'd give the boys one thing. They certainly exceeded the 5 inches the average man was given to work with. They'd been gifted. That was for sure. Wick was a good 7 1/2 inches and Chaz was probably just over 8. Both were thick but Wick was slightly thicker while Chaz was slightly longer. She had the best of both worlds when it came to her boys. And she had access to them any time she wanted them. Hell the boys were just as fucking horny as she was and they sure as hell couldn't deny it.

"Mmmmm…" she sighed, "That's it, baby… Just like that… You know it makes me so fuckin' wet when I watch you fuck yourself for me…"

"Yeah?" he asked her, "Ya like watchin', Dahl? Ya like knowin' that you're makin' me hard? Ya keep starin' like that and he's really gonna perk up."

She grinned up at him and reached out to take his free hand, guiding it down between her thighs.

"Feel that?" she questioned, "See how wet you made me?"

He gave a low growl as his fingertips slipped and slid over her slick entrance. He slowly eased a couple inside and she whined, tipping her head back as her hips rocked up to meet his hand, encouraging his touch and sliding both of his fingers in clear down to the bottom knuckle. His hand met her mound and he curled his fingers, toying with that sweet spot that was along her upper walls, his fingertips rubbing at the rough, spongy patch that was buried deep inside of her. She gave a little cry of pleasure and her hips stuttered, jerking slightly a couple times.

He smirked down at her and she crooked her finger at him, motioning for him to come closer before patting the bed beside her. He eased his hand away from her and moved further up the bed, going to sit back on his heels again once he'd reached the spot beside her right side. He brought his fingers up to his mouth, sucking and licking them clean even as his other hand resumed its previous motions on his cock. She reached out to gently cup his balls in her hand, massaging them with her palm and fingers and dealing out gentle squeezes on occasion.

He grunted at the contact, his hips bucking towards her hand, and groaned, "Fuck, Dahlia!"

She loved it when her name spilled from her boys' lips. It always made her feel like some sort of sexual goddess. She gave him a wicked little grin and pushed herself up into a seated position before turning to face him and getting up onto all fours.

"Gimme that," she informed him, "I changed my mind."

She leaned down, her green eyes never leaving his dark hazel ones. He peered down at her with heavy-lidded eyes, watching her every move from under those long, dark, thick lashes. His eyes were nearly as dark as onyx as she parted her full, sensual lips and took just the head of his cock into her mouth. She moaned as the salty taste of his skin greeted her taste buds. She gently let her teeth rake against him, along that ridge that separated the head from the shaft, and he gave a rough growl. She lowered her head again and began to bob it, working her mouth up and down on his shaft. She knew that he was almost at full-length now and it wouldn't take much teasing to have him standing at full attention.

She knew that he'd be watching her lips. Hell even seeing her sucking on a straw got him hard, regardless of whether or not they were in public. Watching her nibble at her bottom lip or bite it drew his attention to her lips. He and Chaz both had a thing for a woman's lips and Dahlia's were full and slightly pouty, sensual and seductive. She knew that Wick loved to see her hair pulled back while she gave him head, allowing him to watch her mouth and her face, while Chaz liked it better when she left her hair down, letting it brush against his thighs. Chaz was more about the sensations he got while she sucked him off and Wick was more about the visual stimulation, though men in general were very visual creatures. Both of her boys were easily stimulated by just seeing her or watching her but Wick really liked to watch her cheeks hollow and fill, to watch her lips wrapped around his dick while she bobbed her head for him. He was easier to rile with just visual cues than Chaz was. Then again, Chaz was a man that had pretty impressive self-control.

Almost as if he could hear her thoughts, Wick spoke up, cracking a joke even though he was slightly breathless.

"Mmm… It's like fuckin' magic, Dahl," he chuckled lightly, "It just keeps fuckin' disappearin'."

One of his hands came up to sift his fingers through her jet-black curls, holding her in place as she sucked and purred around his length. He gave a slight shudder at the sensation of her mouth vibrating around his cock, sending vibrations straight to his fucking core, and his hips ground towards her mouth. She moaned to encourage him and he rocked his hips again.

"Fuck! Ughhhhn!" he groaned, rocking his hips and tipping his head back a bit as his eyes closed.

She let him find a rhythm that suited him, allowing him to guide her head and thrust his hips even as she worked her mouth on him, essentially letting him fuck her mouth. This lasted for a few minutes until she felt that his cock was hard enough to start the real fun for him.

He lowered his head to watch her again and she waited until he'd made eye contact with her before she made her next move.

Dahlia glanced up at him and winked, taking a deep breath in through her nose and relaxing the muscles in her throat. She swallowed, sending his cock to the back of her throat, and he gave a guttural groan. She eased her mouth back just in time for him to give a sharp thrust into her mouth.

"Fuck! That's it, baby! Fuckin' take it!" he grunted.

She moaned and repeated the process a few more times. He reached out, fisting all 10 of those long, slender fingers in her hair. He grunted and groaned, the sexiest fucking noises spilling from his lips as he watched her work her mouth on him.

"Mmm! Yeah! Ugggghn!" he growled, letting his eyes drift shut again as she eased her head back to begin bobbing it up and down on his length again, sucking and moaning around his shaft.

It was only then that she felt it, a big hand press flat against the small of her back and slowly slide up the length of her back. So lost had she been in her task of sucking Wick off that she hadn't even heard Chaz walk over to the foot of the bed and around to the other side to approach her.

She eased her mouth back and Wick's eyes snapped open.

"What the fu–," he started to ask as she peered up at him and interrupted him to say, "Just a second, baby. Then I'll get right back ta what I was doin'."

She turned her head to look over her shoulder, finding that Chaz was naked and standing on his knees behind her.

"I'm still pissed at you," she informed him.

He leaned down to press a trail of hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses down her spine. He started up at the nape of her neck, slowly making his way down until he reached her ass, where he gently sank his teeth into her right ass cheek. She moaned and her back arched.

He eased his mouth back to nip at her other cheek and then straightened again, rubbing a big hand over her ass to ease the sting as he squeezed and gently kneaded at her ample ass cheek.

"Then let me make it up to ya," he tried to bargain with her.

She narrowed her green eyes at him and he brought his hand back to land a sharp smack on her ass. She bit her bottom lip even as a moan slipped out and her back arched again, encouraging his touch.

"Ya can't tell me ya don't enjoy it, Dahl," Chaz told her.

"Never said I didn't," she countered, "But you were an ass today and I didn't like it."

"Oh believe me, I know," he replied, "Ya proved that by suckin' Wick's dick and makin' me fuckin' watch. Ya think I liked havin' ta just sit there and watch ya fuck yourself? Watchin' ya suck him off while I had ta go without? That shit's just not fair. That's cruel and unusual punishment, Dahlia."

"And what if I don't wanna fuck you?" she inquired.

A pout curled his lips. It was the most adorable damn puppy dog expression she'd ever seen. Damn him and those lips! If it wasn't that adorable, dimpled grin he gave, then it was the heart-breaking pout that always wore away at her resolve.

"You put that bottom lip away or I'll bite it," she warned, narrowing her green eyes at him.

He just gave her a grin and a slight backward nod of his head, taunting, "Prove it."

"I think I liked you better when you were groveling," she stated before resting her ass on her heels and hunching back over Wick again, who was whimpering and trying to ease her head towards his dick again.

She glanced up at Wick and apologized, "I know, baby. I know. I'm sorry."

But Chaz wasn't one to give up. She felt his large hands come up to slide around her sides and up her stomach to grasp her breasts in his palms and start kneading and squeezing at them with his long, thick fingers as she began to bob her head up and down on Wick's dick. Chaz had always been a persistent one, something that had often paid off in great ways in the past, whether it was something related to the gang or different favors they'd traded in terms of their sex life.

His fingers found her nipples, squeezing and tugging gently. He'd always had "magic fingers" as she'd called them. He usually had a gentle touch, tender and affectionate. He always took his time with her, unless they absolutely had to make it quick, and it was almost as if he was worshipping her body when he touched her, when he kissed her. Chaz was the one who made love to her. Wick fucked her. While Wick was a very passionate lover and could even be sensual when he wanted to, he was the kinkier of the two, the dirtier one. Wick was well-known for his sexual skills. Hell he could've made a nun drop her fucking panties! But Chaz… Chaz was the man that brought the emotional aspect into the game. Sex wasn't just a physical act for him. It was soul deep and earth-shattering. Sure. Both men could make her lose control. There was no question about that. But Chaz knew her body, knew her inside and out better than anyone, as he should after 5 years' worth of dating her and fucking around with her. He always seemed to know just what she needed and when to give it to her, just what to say and where to touch, how to stroke here or give a love bite there. It was so much more than sex with Chaz. And, while she loved Wick dearly, Chaz had had her heart first and he'd gotten one hell of a head start.

Chaz slowly slid his hands down her stomach and found her thighs, gently pushing at them. His big hands kneaded and squeezed her soft flesh as his mouth worked up along her spine. That warm, wet tongue stroked here and lapped there, his hot breath fanning over her sensitive skin. A shudder ripped down her spine and she felt his full, sensual lips curl up into a sly little grin.

"Come on, baby, open up," he murmured, his voice soft and smooth as that deep rumble sounded from behind her, "Ya know I didn't mean what I said as an insult. You know Wick and I would never turn ya down. Ya know we're always just as eager as you are. If your sex drive wasn't so fuckin' high, we'd never be able ta make this thing work. I don't know any other woman that could handle 2 men. Especially not for 2 fuckin' years."

She didn't budge, other than her mouth sliding up and down on Wick's cock, sucking and eliciting the occasional groan from him.

"Don't stop, baby…" Wick groaned through tightly clenched teeth, "Don't you fuckin' stop…"

She squeezed gently at Wick's ass cheeks, to reassure him, digging her fingers in a little and reveling in the growl that rumbled up from deep within his chest.

"Come on, Dahl…" Chaz prompted from behind her, his lips working their way up over her shoulder blade and on up to gently sink his teeth into her shoulder.

She voiced a low moan of approval around Wick's cock and Wick's fingers tightened on her hair.

"Ugggghn!" Wick groaned, rocking his hips a little faster towards her greedy mouth.

"Part those pretty thighs for me…" Chaz purred, "Let me stroke that wet pussy… If ya don't want me ta fuck it with my dick, then at least let me fuck it with my fingers… Let me getcha off, baby… Let me take care of my girl."

She slowly let her thighs part for him, pushing herself up to stand on her knees and letting her hands find Wick's hips to ease him down so that he was resting back on his heels. She spread her thighs a bit further and reached back with one hand to find one of Chaz's hands and bring it down between her thighs.

"You want me ta fuck ya with my fingers, Dahl?" Chaz inquired.

"Mmmhmm…" she purred around Wick, coaxing a low groan out of both of the boys, one of pleasure from Wick and one of triumph from Chaz.

She felt those long, thick, skilled fingers sliding lower, swirling over that swollen bundle of nerves, and she whined around Wick. A low growl rumbled up from deep within Wick's chest and she felt his thighs begin to shake even as she brought her hands down squeeze at them, knowing that he loved it when she sank her fingers in and gave him a firm squeeze. Her own thighs trembled slightly at Chaz's administrations. Chaz eased his hand further south and she whimpered, grinding herself towards his hand and hinting to him to get on with it.

"Easy, baby…" Chaz crooned, his voice a low, soothing murmur.

She sucked greedily at Wick and he tipped his head back, letting loose a deep, guttural groan as he started to guide her head faster, giving sharp bucks of his hips as he neared his release.

"Fuck! Dahl…" Wick warned, a shudder rippling up his spine.

She moaned around him, feeling Chaz start to work those fingers up and down the length of her slick slit, her juices coating his fingers. She felt Wick's cock swelling and pulsing in her mouth, his thighs shaking under her hands as she dug her fingers into his skin, just before he came with a loud, strangled groan. He spilled himself inside of her mouth, his hips bucking sharply as he filled her mouth with spurt after spurt of the hot, wet, sticky mess. She swallowed greedily until he was finished. He fell back onto the bed, gasping, and she got up onto all fours, leaning over him to suck and lick him clean.

He peered down at her, watching her as he panted. He winced slightly, still sensitive, and she pressed a loving kiss to the head of his cock before easing her head back. His fingers gently massaged at her scalp as he gave her a lazy grin.

"Just fuck him and get it over with, Dahl…" Wick panted, "Ya fuckin' deserve it after that… Damn!"

She giggled at that and he released his grip on her hair, carefully untangling his fingers from her jet-black curls. She reached down to ease Chaz's hand from between her thighs.

"Whatcha want, baby girl?" Chaz asked her.

She scooted back until she had her knees resting on either side of his firm thighs. She reached between them and found his cock, wrapping her hand around it and guiding it to her entrance. Chaz was quick to take the hint and his large hands came up to rest over her hips as he slowly guided her down onto his long, hard, thick dick. She tipped her head back, voicing a loud moan even as he gave a throaty groan himself as he eased her down onto him, inch by throbbing inch. Her pussy clenched around his length a couple times, her body reveling in the sensation of being filled, and he emitted a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a whine, resting his forehead against her shoulder blade. He didn't stop until she'd taken all of him, his cock seated deeply inside of her and her mound pressing against his pelvis.

Dahlia tipped her head back, resting her hands on his thighs, and just let Chaz guide her motions. Usually she was just as active of a participant as the boys were but she figured she'd let Chaz take control this time. She'd let him make it up to her. And she'd enjoy every fucking second of it.

She felt his big hands guiding her, tugging her down onto his dick and then slowly easing her back up again. She moaned, her fingers digging deeper into his skin and her back arching even as she tilted her head back further, her eyes drifting shut in pleasure.

He leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning over her neck as he murmured to her, his voice as soft as silk as the deep rumble greeted her ears, "That fuckin' good, sweetheart? Ya like that?"

"Oh yes!" she answered, tilting her head to the opposite side as he began trailing hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

She gasped as he gently sank his teeth into the skin that covered the spot where her neck met her shoulder before a throaty moan bubbled up from her throat. She reached behind her with one hand, fisting her fingers in his short, jet-black hair.

"Move your knees, Dahl," he instructed, "Line 'em up with mine. Rest your hands flat on the bed. I'll be able ta slide deeper inside."

She didn't have to be told twice. She was quick to adopt the suggested position and she tipped her head back, moaning in pleasure as his cock not only slid deeper inside of her but also slid in at a new angle. He angled their hips just right and she voiced a short, sharp cry of pleasure, her hips stuttering, as the broad head of his cock prodded at that rough, spongy patch of tissue inside of her.

"Yeah…" he purred, "Bet that's better, isn't it, Dahl?"

She gave a jerky nod, replying, "Oh yes! Again, baby! Do it again!"

He chuckled at that and she lowered her head again, letting her eyes flutter open to find Wick watching her, a sly little smirk on his handsome face. He winked at her and pushed himself up into a seated position. He crawled over towards her and leaned down, sucking one of her nipples between his lips to suckle at her greedily. He found her other breast with one large palm, cupping and squeezing at her. His fingers toyed with her nipple, tugging and pinching. She bit her bottom lip even as a moan bubbled up from her throat and she felt that tension building inside of her. She brought one hand up to spear her fingers through Wick's hair, her other hand remaining firmly planted on the bed, her fingers digging in to get a good grip to support herself.

"Oh! Fuck!" she cursed, "Chaz, baby, I'm gettin' close."

Wick reached down with one hand, finding that little powerhouse of nerves that was nestled between her folds and swirling two fingertips over it. She issued a sharp whine and her thighs began to tremble. He released her nipple just long enough to capture its mate between his lips and suck greedily at it while he toyed with her clit, rubbing circles over it. His free hand found her unclaimed breast, not wanting to leave it feeling left out. Her skin started to grow hot as the sex flush crept up her body and her pussy began to clench in anticipation, fluttering slightly around Chaz's cock. She panted, her gasps turning into whimpers and her moans of pleasure becoming needy whines.

"That's it, baby girl…" Chaz praised, "Come on…"

She bit her bottom lip, a whimper slipping out, and he quickened his pace just slightly, rocking her on him a little harder, a little faster.

She tossed her head back, both hands fisting the comforter tight, and voiced an "Aaah!" of pleasure as she felt that climax rush up on her, her body shuddering and spasming as Chaz's hands gripped her hips tighter and he thrust up into her even harder. Her thighs shook, her pussy convulsing around his cock and her eyes drifting shut as the pleasure racked her body. She whined and whimpered as he drew her orgasm out longer with each thrust, until he came inside of her with a loud, guttural groan growled out right into the side of her neck. His cock pulsed as he released spurt after spurt of the hot, wet substance inside of her. Her arms gave out, unable to hold her up any longer, and she sent poor Wick tumbling back onto the bed, her face landing against his thigh. Her ass was up in the air, Chaz's dick still inside of her pussy as their juices dripped down his cock. Her legs were still spread on either side of his thighs. But none of them cared. They were all sated, all exhausted. She gave a purr of contentment and grinned as wide as the Cheshire cat as she let her eyes drift shut.

"Mmmmm… Nap time," she announced in a lazy little purr, "Then we'll go to the bar and grab some grub."

~*Ziva*~

Ziva Chevenandrova groaned as she started regaining consciousness. She had no idea what had happened to knock her out, which was no surprise. All her psychology classes had taught her that a person often had very brief retrograde amnesia when waking up from a concussion, making the idea that someone could tell you what had happened right before their accident downright laughable.

All she knew was that the blissful darkness was receding and pain was taking its place. There was a very persistent pounding in her head, a dryness in her mouth. She swallowed and tried to reach up to rub at her aching temple. But she couldn't move her arm. That was strange.

"Mornin', sunshine," a soft, undeniably male voice sneered sarcastically from somewhere behind her.

She didn't recognize that voice. She'd never heard it before.

Her hazel eyes snapped open as the realization flooded over her and she took in her surroundings. She studied every detail, wanting to memorize her surroundings. Her eyes roamed over the rough walls made of rock, the hard floor beneath her feet that was made of the same kind of tan-colored rock, the ceiling over her head that was so high above her. She was in a cave, a fucking cave.

Her eyes landed on a shelving unit that was pushed up against one wall of the cave. It was lined with bottles of lye, paint thinner, starter fluid, anhydrous ammonia, iodine, distilled water, packs of batteries, rock salt, rubbing alcohol, gasoline, antifreeze, Drano, brake fluid, lighter fluid, boxes of Sudafed, and packs of matches. She saw a table that had some of the same ingredients scattered around it and a few containers holding something that was almost black in color and was starting to crystalize. There were coffee filters and pop bottles set up on the table, along with a hot plate of some sort to heat said ingredients. Great. Just fucking great! She was in a goddamn meth lair!

She'd wanted to get away from her shitty little hometown, to run from her tainted past. She'd intended to go somewhere memorable for a nice little vacation. She'd been seeking excitement and adventure. That's why she'd been heading for L.A. But she sure as hell hadn't planned to wind up being held hostage in a fucking meth lab in a goddamn cave! While it might count as "memorable" she doubted it'd be exciting or adventurous, unless it involved her escape.

She heard heavy footsteps approaching her from behind, her ears picking up the sound even as the hairs on the back of her neck and her arms stood on end. Her hands fisted around the ends of the cheap lawn chair she was tied to, her wrists bound by rope to the arms of the chair and her ankles tied to the front two legs of the chair.

She turned her head, watching as the man walked around the chair and came to stand in front of her, peering down at her. He probably stood at around 5'10" and was built with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and long legs. He was wearing a set of navy coveralls and black work boots. He'd been stupid enough to let her see his face so she took the time to memorize every detail, taking in the firm line of his jaw, the slender slope of his cheeks, the crystal blue color of his eyes, his slender nose, his thin lips that were framed by facial hair. He had a small, trimmed beard that matched the color of his mustache, his goatee, and his shaggy, brown hair. And there was a mole next to the corner of the left side of his mouth. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and she could see that his skin was deeply tanned. She was just sure that he had a muscular frame underneath those baggy coveralls. The thing she hated most about the man was the fact that he was actually very attractive. Hell he was probably the hottest man she'd ever seen! She'd always been attracted to the men that were nothing but trouble. Like she always said, she didn't know if she was just a loser magnet or if she was the loser.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" Ziva asked him, narrowing her hazel eyes at him.

She wanted to see what his game was. She wanted to see just how far she could push him, just how much of her shit he would tolerate. She wanted to see what he was capable of. She'd been quick to find out as a little girl that you learned more about a person when they were pissed off than you did when they were in a good mood. Anyone could fake happiness but it took some serious self-control to restrain one's temper.

He gave a sick smirk, purring, "Ooo… Ya got a mouth on ya. I like that."

Her whole face scrunched up in disgust, her lips pulling back from her teeth to show her disapproval of his comment. She'd known his kind before. He probably thought he was God's great gift to women. He was real cocky, real sure of himself and his skills when it came to the ladies. He was crude, no doubt, and he'd surely taunt her while he kept her captive there in his stupid cave. What he didn't know about her was that that would only turn her on.

He sneered down at her, stating, "Scrunch that face up all ya want, ya fuckin' bitch. Yer the one tied ta the fuckin' chair."

As if she needed reminding!

She narrowed her hazel eyes even further and drew as much saliva as she could into her mouth, tipping her head back slightly to spit right at him. The glob of spit landed right on his cheek. His face contorted into a mask of rage and he was quick to reach out, his big hand connecting with the side of her face as a loud smack resonated off the cave walls. Her head was thrown to the side from the impact and the salty, metallic tang of blood flooded her mouth. But, rather than give into him, she just laughed, a noise that started as a soft giggle and rose to a near cackle as she turned her head to look at him.

She saw those crystal blue orbs widen in surprise as he stared down at her and she sneered up at him, licking the blood from the corner of her mouth where he'd busted her lip before she asked, "That all ya got?"

He growled in frustration and drew his hand back again, smashing his closed fist into her face this time. It connected with her jaw, the pain exploding across her face. She felt her teeth tear into the inside of her cheek upon impact and smirked up at him before spitting the blood out in front of his feet.

So he was the kind that had a really short fuse? This little hostage situation would definitely get interesting.

She worked her jaw, making sure that the fucker hadn't dislocated it, and heard the satisfying pop as it readjusted. She licked her teeth then, lapping up more of the coppery, crimson liquid that spilled into her mouth. She smirked up at him and saw his eyes narrow into little slits as he glared down at her. She'd never been one to back down from a challenge and she sure as shit wasn't going to start now. She'd give him one thing though: he sure as hell knew how to throw a punch.

He wiped her spit from his face, his crystal blue orbs piercing as he sneered at her. He definitely hadn't expected her to act like this. He'd probably done this kind of thing time and time again. He was certainly used to the women cowering and whimpering, crying and begging. But she refused to give him that satisfaction. Instead, she was going to give him hell until he either released her or killed her. She was damn determined now. He wouldn't get the best of her. She'd beat him at his own damn game.

She turned her head, offering him the other side of her face and asked, "Aren't ya gonna make 'em match?"

He narrowed his eyes and just stared at her for a few moments.

"What's the matter, Slugger? Your little plaything not doin' her part?" she taunted.

"Bitch!" he snarled, stepping forward to catch her chin in a crushing grip, glaring down at her, "You'd better shut that fuckin' mouth 'fore I break yer goddamn jaw!"

"Go ahead," she prompted, "Might as well make this date a little more memorable, don't ya think?"

He sneered down at her again, his lips pulling back from his teeth to reveal the wretched set of teeth that filled his mouth. One of his front teeth was almost completely rotten, black and decayed, while the rest were just in the beginning stages of decalcifying and decaying, just the very tips of them bearing a dark color. She'd seen much worse meth mouths in her day but that didn't make her current situation any better. Not only did the fucker cook meth but he also did quite a bit of the product as well. There was no denying it.

"God! Your breath smells like death!" she told him, trying to turn her face away from him as her nose wrinkled up at the disgusting scent that wafted out of his mouth.

Those crystal orbs narrowed into little slits and he brought his mouth down to hers, crushing his lips against hers and snaking his tongue right into her open mouth. She gagged at first, her hands balling into fists as she tried to jerk her head back away from him. But his grip on her chin was just too damn tight and, as much as she hated to admit it… his kiss wasn't as gut-wrenching as she'd expected it to be.

Her captor flicked the tip of his tongue against hers before massaging at the sides of her tongue, first one and then the other, with the warm, wet muscle. He swirled his tongue around hers and then began to suck at her tongue. Underneath the initial sickening taste of the rot in his mouth, there was an underlying taste of chocolate, whiskey, and cigarettes. In fact, he tasted delicious.

Without thinking, she began to chase his tongue with her own, her tongue tangling with his and fighting for dominance. He won and she voiced a moan of pleasure at the fact that he'd dominated her so easily, something no other man had been able to do. She followed his tongue back into his mouth and captured it between her full, sensual lips, sucking at it greedily. He grunted in surprise, his hand fisting in her hair.

Her hands clutched at the arms of the chair as the kiss became more aggressive. She wanted to sift her fingers through his hair, to hold him close and make sure that he wouldn't be pulling back any time soon. She loved how greedy he was, how rough his tongue's movements were, how shameless and bold he was. He didn't hesitate to dominate her, to demand her submission. That sinful tongue of his explored every little nook and cranny of her mouth, flicking and licking and thrusting. She surrendered another moan into his mouth, this one longer and huskier than the one before. There was no doubt that he'd be an insatiable lover, that he'd be very dominating and rough. Just the thought had her thighs clamping shut tight as her pussy clenched in desire, spilling some of that wet heat into her thong.

When he finally eased back from the kiss, he was panting and she took great pride in that, smirking up at him. Her inner sex goddess was grinning like a monkey with a shiny new toy, preening like a parrot during mating season. Hell her ego was as high as a fucking kite.

"Yer a fuckin' dirty bitch," he accused.

Ziva just gave him a wicked little grin and replied, "Oh, honey, you have no fuckin' idea. I can make every one of your dirty little fantasies come true."

She winked at him and slowly ran her tongue over her top lip, from one corner of her mouth to the other. Those crystal blue orbs followed it and she noticed his hands ball into fists at his sides. He wanted more. She could tell by the way his nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. He was fighting it, holding himself back from taking what he wanted from her. It didn't make any sense though.

If he'd smack her across the face just for spitting in his face and deck her for taunting him but refrain from making any sexual advances past kissing her, it was both bizarre and nearly inconceivable. She just couldn't seem to figure him out. Just when she thought she was starting to analyze him correctly, he'd switched it up.

"Yer fucked up," he stated.

Her smirk stretched even further across her face and she commented, "Takes one ta know one."

He sneered at that and crushed his mouth to hers again to shut her the fuck up. She explored his mouth with her tongue before sucking at his and then, when he tried to ease back from the kiss, she caught his bottom lip between her teeth and gave it a sharp little nip, drawing a couple drops of blood. She sucked at it eagerly, running her tongue over it before giving it a slight little tug with her teeth. Finally, she released it and he was quick to stand up straight.

"You fuckin' bitch!" he growled, his hand flying to his bottom lip, "Ya fuckin' bit me!"

"Oh, baby, if I wanted ta bite ya, I would've really sunk 'em in. That was just a love bite," she informed him, licking her lips and grinning up at him, "You drew my blood. I drew yours. Now we're even."

He glared down at her as he wiped the blood from his lip, muttering more to himself than to her, "Yer gonna fuckin' pay for that shit later."

"Want me ta kiss it all better?" she taunted.

"No!" was his immediate answer.

She pouted at that and retorted in a sarcastic tone, "Aww… Now you're gonna go and hurt my little feelings if ya keep talkin' like that."

He glared at her and walked over towards the table, busying himself with the items that were there. He checked on the crystalizing, dark-colored matter in the containers before starting to arrange the chemicals around an empty set of containers he had arranged on the table.

"Ah, the silent treatment… Ooo! It hurts!" she mocked him.

He cut a glare over in her direction and she just gave him that cocky, crooked little smirk.

"I like it better when ya hate me," she told him, "Means I don't hafta worry about you fallin' for me anytime soon."

"Not gonna fuckin' happen!" he snapped, "Now shut the fuck up!"

"'Ooo… 'Ya got a mouth on ya. I like that'," she purred, her voice low and husky as her eyes grew heavy-lidded.

The look on his face told her that he wasn't amused by her using the quote he'd thrown her way earlier but that only made her laugh.

"I can tell you and I are gonna have plenty of fun," she said, her lips curling up into a sly little grin.

–=Mac=–

Macario Sanchez reached up to grab one of the white masks from the chain that was hanging from the cave's ceiling, stuffing it over his face and making sure that it was in place properly, before grabbing a second one. He walked over to cram it over his little plaything's face. Normally he wouldn't give a shit whether or not his victims were protected from the toxic fumes his precious meth produced while he cooked it, but this bitch was a sick one and he had a feeling she'd enjoy it. And he couldn't have her enjoying herself while she was his personal plaything.

He set right in on cooking up another batch. When it was done, he poured it out into the containers he'd set up for it to cool and crystalize in. He checked on the other containers, finding that they were steadily hardening. They'd be ready by the end of the night, all of them forming that beautiful, near-black block of meth that he could cut into crystals and bag up for his customers.

Over the years, Mac had experimented, crafting the perfect recipes for 3 very unique strains of his precious meth. He'd concocted a strain that he called "Bloody Mary" first, the blood red crystals quickly catching on with his customers and becoming high in demand. Upon discovering that it was quite a success, Walter had demanded that he start "fucking around" and "trying to come up with new varieties" of the drug he specialized in cooking. So Mac had.

He'd created "Blue Maui" next, a form of bright blue crystals, the color of the clear, blue waters that he'd seen in postcards with beaches on them before. And, finally, there had been "Black Velvet", a type of meth that was such a deep, dark purple that it was almost black in color. Each of the 3 strains took their user on a different level of high. Their side effects varied just slightly. And they each brought in quite a bit of money. Black Velvet was the hardest form of the drug he'd made yet, followed by Bloody Mary, then Blue Maui, and, finally, the normal, white crystals he usually cooked up. At the moment, business was booming. He was raking in plenty of cash, which made Walter a very happy, greedy little bastard. And when Walter was happy, he tended to ease up on Mac a bit. So Mac was going to do everything in his power to keep business up.

When Mac was sure it was safe to take his mask off, he tugged it up over his head, letting it sit on top of his head as he went over to yank the mask off of his plaything and hang it up on the chain where it belonged. She gave him that crooked little smirk and puckered her lips at him. Those lips were so full, so damn sexy. He knew he'd love to watch his cock disappear between them while he guided her head and fucked her mouth. He bet she'd enjoy it, as shameless as she seemed.

He let his eyes rake over her body, frowning at the clothes that kept it hidden from his hungry eyes. She was wearing a plain white wife beater, a white bra underneath of it. She clearly had large tits. He was willing to bet that they were a 36DD. They were huge compared to most of the women's he'd seen. And he liked big tits. Her skin was deeply-tanned and her long, naturally-wavy hair was jet-black in color. Her lips were full and pouty. That mouth of hers was just made for sucking dick. Her chin was small and angled up towards her firm jawline. Her cheeks were slender and angular. Her nose was neither too slender nor too wide but it fit with the rest of her features nicely. Her thin, raven-colored brows arched above almond-shaped eyes that were framed with long, dark, thick lashes. Those eyes were a shade of hazel he'd never seen before. They were a mixture of cinnamon and light emerald, more cinnamon colored around her pupils with more green mixing into them closer to the whites of her eyes.

His eyes continued their trek down her body, finding that she had a slender stomach and wide hips. He was willing to bet that her ass was just as ample and well-rounded as her tits were too. He'd always been a tits, lips, and ass man. Of course, it didn't help that her legs were accentuated by a pair of faded denim Daisy Dukes with holes in them either. They were slender and went on for miles. They were the kind that he'd love to have wrapped around his waist while he pounded into her pussy.

Her body was built for fucking and her personality was unlike that of any other woman he'd ever known. She was sassy and sarcastic, taunting and seductive. And he liked the feisty ones. They always fought the hardest. The ones that just cried and begged were never any fun. If they didn't pose a challenge, he didn't bother with them. And he had a feeling that this one would enjoy everything he did to her, unlike all the other victims he'd kidnapped in the past.

"Ya like what ya see, handsome?" she asked, that low, husky voice practically purring as she asked the question.

Mac cocked his head to one side. handsome? Well that wasn't something he'd ever been called before.

She parted her thighs in a blatant invitation, slowly working her tongue over that full upper lip, from one corner of her mouth to the other.

"It's been a while since I've had a good, hard fuck," she informed him, her hazel eyes roaming down his body to fasten to the crotch of his coveralls.

He felt his cock twitch in response, his testosterone raising its head and eagerly volunteering to accept the challenge. But he shook his head hard. That was exactly what she wanted. She wanted him to fuck her. And she was his little plaything, damn it, not the other way around. So he'd do whatever he damn well pleased with her.

"Yer not the one callin' the fuckin' shots here," he snarled, reminding her of her current predicament.

"Who said I couldn't play a willing submissive participant?" she questioned.

He had to swallow down a groan as it threatened to rumble up from his chest. Great! Now all he'd be able to think about was her sprawled out on the damn dirty mattress in the corner of the room there in the cave, her legs spread wide and her wet pussy clenching around him as he brutally assaulted it with his hard dick. He imagined her shouting as he pounded into her pussy again and again, grunting as he thrust harshly into her tiny little body. Hell she was probably only 5 foot flat, making her one of the shortest damn women he'd ever seen and certainly the shortest plaything he'd ever had. She had a hot little body though, even if it wasn't petite like a lot of girls her height. Most people would've considered her disproportionate compared to her height but he sure as shit wouldn't complain. She was stacked just right in all the right places.

"What's yer fuckin' name?" he inquired.

"Ziva Chevenandrova," she answered.

His brows rose at that. There was no way in hell he'd be able to pronounce that shit! And he sure as hell wouldn't be able to spell it either. Ziva was short though, short and simple. He could handle that. It suited her. She was the sexiest little thing he'd ever seen, exotic compared to all the fucking bar whores there at the Luna Mesa or the tourists that passed through Caineville during their little vacations. Hell even the preppy little college girls hadn't looked this fucking hot. She was absolutely stunning.

"Don't like it," he lied, "We're gonna hafta give ya a new one."

She just laughed at that and said, "Then call me whatever the fuck ya want as long as it's not some damn stripper name."

"I'll hafta get back ta ya on yer new name after I get ta know ya a bit better," he commented.

She gave another laugh and then commented, "I get the feeling that I'm some kinda new pet or somethin'."

She was, in a sense. She was his new little plaything, until he got bored with her. He had a feeling that it would take him quite a while before he got bored with this one though. She was different. She was special. She didn't cower and whimper like the other girls. She didn't beg and bawl. She held her chin high and glared at him. Shit she fucking laughed at him. The tiny thing spat just as much sarcasm and wit back at him as he dealt out to her. She was bold and sassy. She sure was a dirty little bitch who'd seemed to enjoy everything he'd dealt her so far, even though he'd just been scratching the surface of what he could do to her during her captivity. And he liked that.

He decided he'd have a little fun with his new toy. He reached into one of the pockets of his coveralls, easing out his tin. He popped it open and watched as those hazel eyes of hers fixed on it. She cocked one raven-colored brow at him and he dipped a finger into the powdery, red substance. He held it out towards her mouth and she turned her head away from him.

"I've never done drugs a fuckin' day of my life and I'm not about ta start now, hostage or not," she snapped at him, those hazel eyes glaring at him harshly.

He could've sworn he almost saw flames dancing in them. He shook his head at himself and tried to bring his finger close to her mouth again but she just turned her head the other way.

"Damn it!" he scolded, "Open yer fuckin' mouth!"

She kept her lips pressed firmly together and he closed the tin before slipping it back into his pocket with his unoccupied hand. Then he reached out to catch her face in his big hand, his thick fingers squeezing her cheeks tightly to force them open.

"Don't you fuckin' –," she started to snarl at him before he stuffed his finger into her mouth.

Her whole face scrunched up in disgust and she bit his finger ruthlessly in retaliation.

"Yow!" he cried, jerking his hand away from her and shaking it a bit.

Ziva shook her head hard, her face all scrunched up and her tongue hanging out as she made a "Leck!" noise of disgust. She gave a full body shudder and spit onto the floor, trying to rid her mouth of the bitter taste.

"I oughta fuckin' throttle ya for that shit!" Mac growled, his crystal blue orbs narrowing as he gazed down at her.

But she was unconcerned by his threat. She was too busy shrugging one shoulder and turning her head to try to lick at her wife beater, attempting to wipe the meth off of her tongue.

"Hey!" he scolded, reaching out to rock her chair a bit to catch her attention.

She just shot him a sharp glare and resumed trying to clean her tongue again.

"Cut that shit out!" he shouted, "Just let it run its fuckin' course. Maybe it'll mellow ya out a bit, ya crazy fuckin' bitch."

She cut him another harsh glare and snapped, "Meth doesn't 'mellow' a person out, ya fuckin' idiot! It makes 'em mean. It's a stimulant, not a depressant! You oughta fuckin' know that by now, judgin' by the state of those nasty ass teeth of yours! And I'll have you know I'm not a bitch. I'm the bitch. And it had best be in all capitals! I can be as sweet as a fuckin' angel or worse than the Devil himself. And you'd be smart ta learn that real fuckin' quick."

His brows rose at that and she resumed trying to rub her tongue on the cotton material of her wife beater again.

Mac sighed but wiped the blood from his finger onto the leg of his coveralls. His patience with her was starting to wear real fucking thin.

She groaned, shaking her head, and cursed, "Oh fuck it all!"

He chuckled, thinking that maybe she was pissed because she couldn't get the taste out of her mouth. He was starting to wonder if she'd even get a high after how much of it she'd managed to spit out or wipe onto her wife beater when he saw her tip her head back and let her eyes drift shut.

"Just remember…" she murmured, that husky voice nearly sending shivers down his spine even as it made his cock twitch in his coveralls, "You fuckin' did it."

=Devon=

Devon Asher walked across the parking lot between the Luna Mesa and the Sunset Motels that Walter owned. Regina was coming down from the heroine he'd shot her up with earlier and she was begging for food. Since she'd been compliant the past couple days, he'd been making it easier on her. While he wasn't some fucking pussy whipped schmuck, he didn't see the point in taking it out on her if she was behaving herself. When he roughed her up, it only made it more difficult on him when he was ready for another helping. And he just couldn't have that. So, as long as she did as she was told, he'd take it easy on her. In fact, he was even going to indulge her in one of her favorite meals for lunch today.

He pushed the door to the Mesa open and sauntered in, heading right for the bar. Walter met him at the bar with a single, downward nod.

"What can I get you?" Walter questioned in that heavy Mexican accent.

"Can I get a rib eye, well done, and an order of steak fries with a beer?" Devon asked.

Walter just nodded and went to place his order with the cook.

Devon knew that Walter would do anything he asked. He was Walter's pride and joy. Devon could do no wrong as far as the old man was concerned. Mac was the family fuckup. But, lately, business had been going well for Mac and it was really starting to annoy Devon. Something needed to happen to upset the balance. Mac wasn't meant to impress Walter. Walter thought that Mac was worse than the dirt on his snakeskin boots. And Devon wanted to keep it that way.

Walter brought his beer over to set it in front of him and informed him, "It'll be about 15 minutes or so."

Devon just nodded. He could wait. And Regina would have to wait even longer since he wouldn't order her food until he'd finished his. If she bitched, she could do without.

"You talk ta that man about another batch?" Devon inquired quietly, glancing around the bar to make sure that no one had heard him.

The bar was empty now and that's how Devon preferred it, unless he was on the prowl. He didn't want everyone in town knowing his business.

The old man gave a single, downward nod and replied, "I did. He said that it would be in on Wednesday."

Devon nodded in response. That was only a couple days away. He could wait that long. He'd have enough to keep her calm and compliant until the new shipment came in.

"How is she?" Walter asked.

"She's all right," Devon answered, "She's been real good lately. In fact, I'm gonna pick up her favorite meal and take it back to her after I finish my own food."

Walter just nodded and told him, "If you tell me what it is when I bring your food, I can place her order and have it ready for you by the time you've finished your food."

Devon nodded. That wasn't a bad idea.

While he waited for his food, his mind rehashed the events of last night. Regina had actually told him she loved him without having to be prompted. She hadn't tried to scoot away from him when he'd snuggled up to her after he was finished making love to her. She'd just closed her eyes and given a dreamy-looking smile as he'd kissed her cheek and stroked her hair. In the past couple months, he'd made quite a bit of progress with her. She was slowly warming up to him. He had no intentions of weaning her off of the drugs though. That would pose too much of a risk.

"How's the real estate business goin'?" Devon asked Walter when the old man came over to refill his glass.

"It's going good, son. It's going very good," Walter stated, "I rented that nice little house out on Mendocino Drive to a beautiful young lady. She came here about a week ago, paid cash for 3 months down, and told me she'd be back in a week. She showed up yesterday with 2 men."

"Yeah?" Devon inquired, not really interested but listening to appease his father anyway.

"She'll drive all the boys here in Caineville crazy," Walter hinted, "I bet she'd catch your attention, son. She's got raven-colored hair, curls falling down to her chin. She has the brightest green eyes. And she has the body of a goddess under those clothes I'm sure."

Devon's brows rose. Maybe she would catch his attention. It wasn't often that Devon strayed from Regina. But, when his testosterone got the urge to sample something new, he didn't deny it.

"Did you get her name?" Devon pressed.

"She said it was Mariska. Mariska Rudaj," Walter said.

"Rudaj…" Devon pondered aloud.

It sounded familiar. He just couldn't place it.

"The name sounds Russian, no?" Walter suggested.

Devon nodded and replied, "It could be. It's definitely European."

"She looks exotic, Devon. Prettier than all those damn college girls that flock in here on vacation," Walter informed him.

Devon gave a slow nod. This "Mariska" sounded very intriguing. He wondered when he'd get to meet her. Surely he'd bump into her soon if she was living in Caineville for the next 3 months. It was a small town and there was only one place to go for most of the essentials there in town.

A little bell sounded and Walter headed off to go grab Devon's food. He carried it over to set it in front of him, handing him a fork and a steak knife. He set the barbeque sauce next to his plate and walked away to let Devon eat in peace while he wiped down the tables from the lunch crowd that had come in earlier.

"You wanna go ahead and place an order for Reggie?" Devon inquired when the old man returned from cleaning off the tables.

Walter nodded and asked, "What does she want?"

"A hamburger with just ketchup and lattice fries," he answered, "And a container of ketchup to go."

Walter nodded and scribbled the order down before walking over to the window at the kitchen to hang the order up.

Devon had just finished his food, when he heard the door of the bar swing open. He turned his head to casually glance over his shoulder and his head snapped back around again to do a double take. His hazel eyes grew real wide and his jaw fell open. Hell the damn thing nearly came unhinged!

"Ahh… That's her…" Walter sighed, "That's Mariska. She's a beauty, isn't she? She's going to drive all the men crazy, me included, of course."

"Oh fuck…" Devon cursed, his eyes growing wider and wider as he watched the young woman walk into the bar with a man on either side of her.

He knew those faces. And he knew that her name wasn't Mariska Rudaj. Her name was Dahlia Chevenandrova and it was spelled T-R-O-U-B-L-E.

Devon bolted from his chair and started for the door.

"You forgot Regina's food!" Walter called after him.

"Take it over to her! Make sure she gets as much to eat as she wants! I've gotta go find Mac!" Devon hollered back as he ran out of the bar and hurried across the parking lot to the old van his mother had left him.

Dahlia Chevenandrova was the leader of the Black Rose Rebellion, the most notorious gang in all of Los Angeles County. And those were her second and third in command, Chaz Mathers and Wick Ramsey. He'd heard all about them while he'd been in college there in L.A. Their little stunts had been broadcasted on the news on numerous occasions. Granted, the gang always wore masks to cover their faces but they always left their trademark "BRR" at the scene of the crime. Hell even the Los Angeles police had feared the gang. The Rebellion was 13 men strong and headed by one of the only female gang leaders in Los Angeles County. Not much was known about the gang. But what was known wasn't good.

The gang was ruthless, cunning, and always on the alert. They were very precise when they took out their competition, very serious about their business, and very good at getting their point across. Other gangs didn't fuck with the Rebellion because revenge coming from the Rebellion was always served cold and extremely deadly. There was no room for error. No exceptions were made and no one was forgiven for their trespasses against the gang or any of its members. That gang was like a family and, when one member was wronged, the whole gang took it upon themselves to exact vengeance for that member. And, if the Black Rose Rebellion was there in Caineville… It could only mean trouble. Trouble for Mac's business, which meant trouble for Walter.

While Devon didn't give a rat's ass about Mac, he couldn't let Walter take the fall for the family fuckup. If the Rebellion decided that Mac was a threat and that he needed to be wiped out, Devon wouldn't stop them, just so long as it wasn't him they were gunning for. Hell, if it came down to it, they could take Walter too. Devon would take Regina and split. But, until he knew what they were doing there in Caineville, he had to play it cool.

Devon kept a close eye on the speedometer while he was on the main stretch of road that ran through town but, once he made the turnoff that would lead out to the old cave, he drove like a bat out of hell. He reached the cave in record-breaking time and threw the van in park, hopping out and rushing for the entrance of the cave.

=Mac=–

Mac heard clumsy feet tripping over the uneven floor of the tunnel. It sounded like they were headed right for the room in the cave that he used for cooking up the meth his customers ordered.

"The fuck?" he pondered aloud.

Hardly anyone knew of the cave's location and that was what made it the ideal location to cook.

His eyes searched the room in the cave until they landed on a crowbar. He went over to pick it up and started for the entrance where the tunnel met up with the room that served as his meth lab. He was surprised to see Devon, of all people, come running out of the tunnel, panting and gasping for air. He was covered in sweat and his eyes were real wide.

"The fuck are ya doin'?" Mac grumbled, "Ya tryin' ta get yer stupid self killed?"

"Trouble…" Devon panted, doubling over to rest his hands on his knees as he gasped, trying to fill his lungs with oxygen.

"The fuck ya mean 'trouble'?" Mac pressed even as he went to go set the crowbar back where he'd found it.

Shit if it was just Devon, he didn't need a weapon to beat his ass. And the fucking pussy seemed to be a bit short of breath as it was so he had the upper hand in terms of stamina as well brute strength. Walter wouldn't be able to save his precious little golden boy if he pissed Mac off this time. He was nowhere in sight.

"At the Mesa…" Devon wheezed.

"What about it?" Mac prompted, "Come on, dumbass. Spit it the fuck out!"

He didn't have much patience to begin with and it was sure as hell wearing thin when the blundering idiot wouldn't just come out with it.

"There's a gang… from L.A…" he said, "They're bad news, Mac… Very bad news…"

Mac's brows furrowed at that. Who the fuck cared?

"The fuck's this got ta do with me?" Mac questioned.

"They don't like competition. If they're here ta stay in Caineville, they'll try ta take ya out," Devon informed him, standing up straight when he'd finally regained his breath.

Mac's brows rose at that.

Oh they would, would they? Well he'd just love to see them try. He doubted those little punks from the city had dealt with anything like him before.

"Jimmy's in the back with a pocket of high. If you listen close, you can hear him cry, 'Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below.' Sing it! Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below. Way down below. Way down below. Judy's in the front seat, pickin' up trash. Livin' on the dull, gotta make that cash. Won't be pretty. Won't be sweet. She's just sittin' here on her feet singin' 'Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below.' Go! Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down. Sing 'Oh Lord, tell us so. We belong way down below.' Oh Lord, tell us so. We belong way down below. Way down below. Way down below. Way down below. Way down below. I've had better days, man. I've seen better daaaaaays. I've had better ways, man. I've known better waaaaaays…" Mac heard Ziva sing, making him turn his head to peer back over his shoulder at her, "One, two, three, and four. The Devil's knockin' at your door. Caught in the eye of a dead man's lie. Start your life with your head held high. Now you're on your knees with your head hung low. Big man tells you where to go. Tell him it's good. Tell him okay. But don't do a goddamn thing they say…"

She had her head tipped back in the lawn chair he had her tied to, her eyes closed as she sang along to whatever song was playing through her head. Mac's lips twitched as he fought off a smile. He didn't know what the song was but it sure sounded good when she sang it in that low, husky voice of hers. Hell she sounded better than half of those damn rock stars on the radio. And the song suited her personality. Shit it suited his personality.

"Who the fuck is that?" Devon questioned, pointing over at Ziva.

Mac's little plaything cracked her eyes open and she slowly turned her head to gaze lazily over at him. Her face scrunched up, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

"Who's your ugly friend?" she asked, looking at Mac for an answer.

Mac couldn't help but laugh at that. Hell he damn near cackled when he saw Devon's face contort in anger.

"What the fuck did she just say?" Devon demanded, already having forgotten what the fuck he'd even come out to the cave for.

"I said 'Who's your ugly friend?'" she repeated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Mac bit his upper lip to keep his smile at bay. He'd have to remember that. She thought Devon was ugly. While he shouldn't have been affected by a comment like that at all, he found it to be rather reassuring. For once in his goddamn, miserable life, a woman found Devon undesirable. What made it even better was the fact that she'd called Mac himself "handsome" earlier that afternoon. So she found Mac attractive and she had no interest in Devon whatsoever.

"His name's Devon," Mac answered.

"Well I don't like him," Ziva stated quite bluntly before staring up at the ceiling again.

Mac was reduced to cackling as he watched Devon's face turn a bright shade of red even as it scrunched up in pure rage. Scratch that. She just didn't like Devon at all.

"I don't know who the fuck you think you are –," Devon shouted, pointing at her and starting over towards the chair she was tied to even as Mac straightened up again.

But the sassy little raven-haired hellion retorted, "I'm Ziva Chevenandrova, you fucking prick! Come at me and see what fuckin' happens!"

Mac had just stepped in between them, afraid of what Devon might try to do to his new little toy, before he saw Devon's eyes grow real wide. His hazel eyes filled with something that resembled fear and his face went from tomato red to almost paper white. Mac hadn't found too many things that Devon was afraid of. But, by damn, something about his little plaything scared the shit out of little golden boy.

Devon swallowed hard and shook his head, practically groaning, "Oh no… No, no, no! Fuck!"

"No I will not fuck you," Ziva countered from behind Mac.

Mac began to chuckle again. She sure as hell was a feisty little thing. She had more sass in that tiny body than any of his other victims had. Hell she probably had more fire in her pinky finger than most of the others had had in their whole damn body on a good day.

"Mac, you've gotta get rid of her. And I mean fast," Devon told him, all the words rushing out of his mouth in a hurry, "This is bad. This is so fucking bad!"

Mac watched as Devon brought both hands up to fist his hair, his fingers grasping the brown locks tight.

"The fuck are ya talkin' about?" Mac questioned.

"Her!" Devon cried, pointing at Ziva again, "She looks just like Dahlia."

"Who?" Mac prompted.

"You know Dahlia Chevenandrova?" Ziva asked, her voice sounding quite hopeful, much to Mac's dismay.

Mac frowned. It wasn't like him to get disappointed when his victims sounded hopeful about escaping from him. Granted, he never let them escape anyway, at least not far enough that they could actually run from him. Sure, he liked to let them think they had a chance, only to crush their hopes and drag them back to the cave again, kicking and screaming and bawling their eyes out. But this little bitch wasn't going anywhere.

"Who the fuck's Dahlia Chevy-whatever?" Mac inquired.

"She's her sister," Devon answered even as Ziva stated, "She's my sister."

"God she looks so much like her…" Devon muttered, his eyes fastening to Ziva again.

Mac's jaw clenched and his nostrils flared in anger. He didn't like the way Devon's eyes were roaming over his plaything.

"Mac, you've gotta get rid of her. Like now. Don't fuck her. That'll only leave traces of your… DNA in her body. Just… Just kill her and dump her somewhere," Devon insisted.

"I'm not gonna 'get rid of her'," Mac snapped, "I haven't even had my fun with her yet!"

"By damn, if I'm gonna die, there'd better damn well be some amazing sex first!" Ziva chimed in.

"Listen, Mac. You don't want her sister and the gang she runs with ta find her here. They'll fuckin' kill you," Devon pressed.

Like fuck they would.

"They'll never find the fuckin' cave," Mac retorted, awfully damn sure of his comeback.

"You don't get it!" Devon cried, reaching up to fist his hands in his short, brown hair again, "She's a fucking liability! Dahlia's father is the head of the fucking Albanian mafia! Dahlia herself is the head of the most notorious fucking gang in all of Los Angeles County! And she's eating at the Luna Mesa as we speak!"

"You saw my sister?" Ziva asked, those hazel eyes lighting up at the idea of her sister being in town.

Enough was enough. no one was going to take his fucking toy away from him. Especially not Devon, Walter's little golden boy.

Mac snarled at Devon, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and slamming him up against the cave wall. He was rewarded with the sound of Devon's teeth snapping together as his head smacked off the cave wall. Devon cried out in pain and Mac's ego soared. So he'd hurt the little fucker? Well good. If Devon didn't leave well enough alone, a bump on his fucking head was going to be the least of his fucking problems.

"I don't know what the fuck yer tryin' ta pull here but I don't fuckin' like it. You'd be smart ta fuckin' leave and not come back out ta the cave again, Asher. That's the hottest fuckin' toy I've found yet. You ruin this for me and I'm gonna take Regina and fuck her 'til that pussy's bleedin' and busted wide open. Ya got me?" Mac growled, his crystal blue orbs piercing right through Devon as he cut him the sharpest fucking glare he'd ever dealt the little prick, "I'll fuck her up so damn bad you'll never wanna touch her again."

Devon's hazel eyes grew wider and wider. He clearly hadn't expected Mac to rough him up. And Mac knew that the one thing he really cared about was Regina, the sick little fucker. So he wasn't surprised when Devon just gave a jerky nod.

"Say it!" Mac demanded, slamming him up against the wall of the cave again to rattle him a bit further, "Fuckin' say it!"

"All right!" Devon agreed, "All right! I won't tell anyone about your little toy! Just let me go!"

Mac released his grip on Devon's shirt, dropping the little fucker on his ass on the cave floor and taking a couple steps back. Devon scurried across the floor in some awkward crab walk before pushing himself up onto his feet, his wild, hazel eyes never leaving Mac's blue ones.

"You have no idea what kinda trouble you're gonna bring onto yourself, Mac!" Devon called as he started for the tunnel, "You'll be dead within a week!"

Mac snorted and rolled his eyes before glancing over at his little plaything.

She was giggling, grinning up at him like an idiot.

"Maaaaaaac," she crooned, "Mac-aroni and cheese. Mac-intosh. Mac-kenzie. Big Mac Attack. Mac-kerel. Mac-adamia. Mac truck."

He rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh.

"Yeah. No more meth for you," he told her.

"I don't like that Devon guy," she said with a frown even as she shook her head, "I don't like him at all."

Mac nodded to her and replied, "Me neither."

Almost as if she'd just forgotten their little conversation, she tipped her head back and hummed, "Mmm… I feel so nice… My body's all tingly and warm… It's like that 'just been fucked' sensation you get after a good, intense orgasm."

He groaned. Yeah. That topic of conversation wasn't any better either. It was bad enough that he had to fucking wait until he was done cooking before he could have his fun with her.

He turned his back to her and went over to check on the containers again.

He'd made up his mind though. He was going to keep her, at least for the rest of the night. He was going to fuck her before the night was through. If she was a good fuck, then he'd keep her. Granted, he'd have to keep her at HIS place since Devon might be stupid enough to try coming out to the cave again to look for her or take her while Mac was gone. And he couldn't have that. He'd be damned if he let Devon ruin this for him. Damn it, he'd finally found a hot little toy, a brand spanking new one, and he wasn't about to let Devon steal it from him. He'd play with it until he got bored with it and then he'd get rid of it. But he wasn't going to get rid of it until he was damn good and ready to.

Lyrics from the Song:

Adrenalize by In This Moment

Heaven Knows by The Pretty Reckless

Author's Note: As I promised, there are personal thank you notes to hand out here.

First off, I'd like to thank everyone for reading the chapter – if you managed to make it this far.

Secondly, thank you to each and every person who has ever reviewed any of my chapters or one-shots.

Thirdly, thank you to those of you who have my stories or added them to your alert list. Likewise to those of you who have added me to your favorites or alerts list.

To UsefulSpirits: You always manage to write the most amusing messages. You've reduced me to tears of laughter on more than one occasion while reading messages you've sent me. Your messages are unlike any others because of your sarcasm and quite amusing sense of humor. I always appreciate your reviews and your friendship is invaluable, dear.

To ILovePotatoes94: I'd like to thank you for your patience. Hell you were with me clear back when I was writing Garrett Hedlund fanfictions – I think the Death Sentence ones were always your favorite but I might be wrong (it's been a few years now). I'm still just as eager as ever to receive your messages and reviews and that will never change, dear.

To the lovely ladies from the "Manic Mac – A Red Canyon Community" I've started up: I can't thank you enough for agreeing to join the community and you've all posted some phenomenal stories on there. I'm always amazed by just how talented some of the writers here on this site are.

And now, to my team of readers who have helped me like no others…

To Mizu: Thanks for hanging in there with me so long, dear. I know that you've had a lot going on lately and I hope that things will ease up for you soon. I'm always just as happy as ever to hear from you, whether it's a message or a review or whatever. Thank you so much for agreeing to read over my shitty first draft and give me your feedback on it. I can't thank you all enough.

And, last but certainly not least, to my newfound team of wonderful betas. My chapter sure as hell wouldn't be as neat and polished without you!

To BorchMadsen: I think you know Mac's character better than anyone else who's ever read my stories and you've read enough of my stories to get the gist of my writing style and the kind of crazy ideas my psychotic brain cooks up. So I couldn't have found anyone better to keep me in check in terms of keeping Mac in character throughout my chapters.

And, to Shadows7X: You already know that you being at the bottom of this list has nothing to do with how much I love ya. You've been there with me since before I even started posting here on Fanfiction. You've been with me for just over 6 years now. You've seen me at my best and my worst. You've seen my writing clear back in the early stages – and those stories still make me cringe any time I read over them – and you've seen me progress and learn over those years. I couldn't possibly ever find a better friend. You know everything about me and you're still the only one that I confide my deep, dark secrets in. I can never truly express how much you mean to me or how much I love you. I can't ever thank you for all the help you've offered me over the years. I can't tell you how much your reviews mean to me – especially since they're so in-depth and you let me know your every thought and reaction to the various parts of the chapters. But, more than anything, I can't tell you how just being able to talk to you, whenever we get the chance, makes my damn day every time. I love writing stories with you but, as I'm sure you've learned by now, even just being able to talk to you means the world to me. I couldn't have come this far with you. You know it as well as I do. I would've given up a long time ago if it wasn't for you, dear.