Kael’s dark eyes locked on mine. Rourke was scanning the rooftop.

Rain whipped around us, promising to turn into snow before the night was over.

Kael leaned forward, his hand coming up to the back of my neck. He gripped it possessively with a steady pressure.

“You good?” he asked in a low voice, steering me to look directly into his piercing brown eyes.

It had been a brutal to get my head right for the job we were doing tonight. After what happened on the last run, the near-miss that almost cost us Rourke. But the shadows couldn’t conceal me forever, the dawn came fast in our line of work. We needed this.

“Getting back to work is the best thing for me. I’m ready,” I confirmed, holding his stare without flinching.

The sharp, lethal focus that always took over right before the drop gripped me. We’d gone over and over on this job, it was high-stakes. The three of us had to agree or it wasn’t done, that was the rules. I knew my guys needed the W tonight.

The cartel had locked down the upper floors of the high-rise below us. We knew a small army protected our target, a high ranking official in the organization we’d been tracking for weeks.

The bastard was wanted for double-crossing half the underworld. Our contract was chosen because our reputation for being crazy enough to do it preceded us, even with the last job fuck up. Pulling this job off would put us in the green permanently. I checked my watch. He was due to arrive in the high-floor boardroom any minute now.

A quiet step rustled behind us. Rourke adjusted the strap of his heavy rifle, his eyes meeting mine from behind his black tactical balaclava as he prepped to leave for his sniper nest on the adjacent ledge. He stepped into my space, towering and broad, his familiar smell embracing me.

“The job will be finished soon,” Rourke murmured, his dark voice vibrating straight through my chest. “And then tonight, you’re ours.”

He reached his gloved hand out, cupping my chin firmly, his thumb brushing over my lower lip before he stepped back and vanished into the shadows of the fire escape.

Kael and I exchanged a single, synchronized glance. We had the kind of connection where no words were needed. We were moving. Our tactical boots in precise rhythm as we sprinted toward the central ventilation housing.

We hooked into our repelling gear and descended into the dark vertical drop. Kael’s hand was firm on my back. I focused on the pressure, but I couldn’t feel the warmth I knew was there through my kevlar vest, it kept me centered through the gloom.

We dropped steadily until our boots touched down on the maintenance grating outside the glass, moving like the well-oiled machines we were trained to be. Count of three. Breaching charge planted.

Crack.

With a synchronized kick, we breached the double doors of the meeting room, our boots hitting the reinforced floor at the exact same moment.

The guards were fast, but we were faster. We had the element of suprise. We always made sure we did. The glass shattered and immediately gun fire started echoing off the polished marble walls. Kael grabbed me, throwing me behind a heavy conference table

Muzzle flashes strobing in the dim room, men yelling orders over the deafening crack of automatic weapons.

“Crimson! Over here!”

He grabbed me around the waist and we dove behind a heavy mahogany conference table just as a spray of bullets tore through the air. The wood splintered into sharp shrapnel.

“Cover me!” Kael yelled. I was already squeezing the trigger of my suppressed sidearm. Returning fire, I double-tapped the closest guard as he charged my flank, dropping him instantly.

Kael was lethality in motion. Without hesitation he moved hrough the remaining defenders. I loved to see it. To see him, like this. I could watch him kill for hours. His movements were a tango with Death herself, cold and efficient one moment, unhinged and wild the next. His clothes and weapons would be covered in blood.

He preferred close combat to guns. His knife an extenstion of his arm and hand, it cut whatever got close.

The entire thing took two minutes, I confirmed, looking at my watch. When I lifted my eyes, Kael was stepping over the wreckage of the guard detail, his shadow falling over the cowering official curled behind the main desk.

He didn’t hesitate. He reached down, grabbed the man by his expensive silk lapels, and jammed the warm barrel of his sidearm under the official’s chin.

“It’s over,” Kael growled, his voice a dangerous, gravelly rasp that left no room for negotiation.

“You’re coming with us.”

The man didn’t resist. Paralyzed by pure terror, his knees shook as we hauled him up between us.

We navigated the pre-planned extraction route, breathless and adrenaline-fueled, double-checking blind corners until we cleared the secondary access door back to the roof where Rourke stood waiting, his rifle already broken down and stowed in its hard case.

The moment we stepped into the open air, Rourke moved in. He reached out, hauling me straight into his broad chest, wrapping his heavy arms around me and kissing the top of my head while I leaned into his warmth.

“I can’t wait to get back to the loft,” I murmured, burying my face into his tactical vest for a brief second, feeling the hard, steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“We’re going to ruin you, queen,” Kael said, coming up behind me. He reached out, his gloved fingers tangling into my hair, gripping it firmly at the nape of my neck to tilt my head back for just a moment before letting me go.

He turned, expertly maneuvering the trembling official toward the secondary strike detail waiting in the alley to take him into high-security custody.

Our job was officially done. And we could finally go back to the loft.

“Do you guys want to get food before we head back?”

“I ordered Chinese, it will be there by the time we get home,” Rourke confirmed nonchalantly. He always took care of us in little ways. I moved my hand out to put on him, the muscles of his leg felt like rock.

There was an electric tension between the three of us mounting with every mile. The dark interior of the ops van hid their faces in shadow more than their balaclavas.

“I’m not going to let you shower when we get back, I want you dirty, covered in tonight’s grime when we take you, Crimson.” Kael said in a low voice.

The violence of the night surged as he reached his hand onto my upper thigh, separating my legs roughly, he found purchase and tenderly pressed. I let out a soft moan, and Rourke’s hand fell over mine, guiding it over his tactical pants to his cock. He was already hard but as I pressed slightly down I could feel it grow. “Yes, baby girl,” he growled, and gripped the back of my neck pulling me in sideways for a kiss.

“I want to watch you come undone,” he said pulling back and looking into my eyes.

By time we hit the security gates of our private loft building, the mission was fully behind us, and all we wanted was each other.

We made our way to the elevator. Rourke’s hand shot out as the door opened and gripped the back of my neck, his other hand grabbed my wrist and whipped me around, walking me backwards up against the wall of the elevator.

“I do like it when Rourke gets like this,” Kael said laughing deeply as he stepped inside the elevator. Rourke’s mouth crashed down on mine, his knee pushing my legs apart as he started grinding against me, his hand tightening its grip on my throat.

As we burst through the heavy front door of the loft, it slammed shut, locking automatically behind us. Kael and Rourke closed in around me instantly, stripping off their tactical vests and tossing them to the hardwood floor with heavy thuds.

They were my welcomed dark predators, and I was their desiring prey, trapping me in the narrow foyer, their eyes burning dark.

“Fuck, baby girl, you’re already so wet,” Rourke said, he had pulled my pants off and had his hand between my legs.

“I want to lick every inch of you right now

They pinned me flat against the cold brick wall on of them on each side. Their large, calloused hands peeling away my gear, gripping my hips, pulling my body flush against theirs.

“We’re going to take care of you, Crimson,” Kael whispered, his hot breath brushing against my neck. “You did so good tonight, you did perfect.”

The smell of gunpowder still clung to our skin as we melted into each other. The electric tension that always followed a successful job made every touch, every command, every single moan that much more intense. They shattered me into a primal version of myself.

My men. “Kael, Rourke…” I managed to whisper. They both fell against me, engulfing me, their mouths on my neck, one of each side, kissing, licking, biting gently, as their hands explored my body.

My red hair was a wild, tangled mess of crimson spilling over my shoulders.

Kael reached under me and picked me up, carrying me the two feet and setting me down on top of the cold steel of the kitchen island. He didn’t say a word, just gripped my waist with those huge, tattooed hands as my boots clattered against the metal.

He knelt down and removed my boots as Rourke grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me down, tilting my head to where his huge cock was now at eye level. Still gripping my hair he pushed my open waiting mouth onto it.

He held the back of my neck firmly. “Let me fuck your mouth while Kael fucks your pussy with his tongue.”

Kael stepped between my legs, I could feel his massive frame as he spread my legs apart, running his hands up my inner thighs, squeezing hard, kissing my inner thighs, his rough beard grazing my soft skin.

He reached up, his hand slowly pressing as it moved up my stomach and then wrapping around my throat. He didn’t squeeze, but the pressure was there, a firm, possessive claim. “I can feel his cock working your throat,” he groaned, and then he started planting soft, urgent kisses on my pussy. I squirmed. His hand around my throat, holding me place as Rourke fucked my mouth, his tongue parting me, I could feel him slide a finger in and I moved into it.

Rourke’s hands were still cold from the night air as his finger slid in and out of me with with a slow, agonizing precision.

“You weren’t reckless tonight,” Rourke murmured, his voice a low, dangerous vibration.

Kael’s hand left my throat and his thumb stroked my jawline as Rourke traced his dick over my lips. “You’re such a pretty mess, open your eyes.”

I did.

“Look at me, Crimson.”

I lifted my eyes. His was cock still in my mouth while Kael continued to lick me and finger fuck me slowly. It was all I could do to keep from bucking and moaning.

“That’s right, pretty,” he said, “Look at me while I fuck your throat. You’re our good girl.”

Kael continued to ravish my pussy with a hunger that felt like it could swallow me whole. His tongue was broad and relentless, licking and sucking my clit with a rhythmic intensity that had me arching my back, my fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders.

“Look at him,” Rourke commanded, his voice grazing my ear as he stopped fucking my mouth, he lifted my head.

Kael was looking up at me, his lips wet, an unadulterated devotion. He stood up, his cock already hard and pulsing, freed from his pants. He was thick, heavy, and veined, a brutal piece of anatomy that matched the man.

He slicked the head of his cock with the wetness he’d just drawn from me, then gripped my hips, pulling me to the very edge of the steel island.

“Take it,” he groaned.

He drove inside me in one powerful, deep thrust. His cock filling my pussy completely, stretching me and I immediately came as Rourke leaned down finding my mouth with his, he kissed me through my orgasm.

And then he was behind me, his arms wrapped around me, pulling my back flush against his chest, as he lifted me off the counter, Kael’s hands gripped my ass. Rourke’s hands slid down to grip my thighs and hold them wide, ensuring Kael could bury himself as deep as possible.

They held me suspended. I leaned completely against Rourke.

“Watch yourself get fucked,” he commanded into my ear, kissing my neck.

Kael’s rhythm slowed as he leaned in to kiss my mouth. Every thrust was heavy and deliberate, driving me harder against Rourke, who held me steady, his chest heaving against my back.

“You’re both so perfect,” I managed as Rourke’s hand slid down between us, his fingers finding my clit and rubbing it in sync with Kael’s thrusts. I was trapped between them, a toy for their pleasure, and I loved every second of it.

Kael gripped my throat gently, pulling my face toward his as he accelerated. His thrusts became shorter, faster, more desperate. He was hammering into me, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Another orgasm as Rourke massaged my breasts with one hand and my clit with the other. Kael let out a low, guttural roar, driving himself in as deep as he could go, his cock pulsing hot and thick inside me as he came.

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Masked, Morally Grey, Reverse Harem. Crimson, Kael & Rourke are absolutely feral for each other. A sacred bond in and out of the bedroom. Their connection is psychic and intense. Kael & Rourke dominate her in the bedroom, but they both worship at the foot of Crimson’s throne. These characters & their life will be recurring here on A.M. Torric’s Dark Romance, but their stories will be presented as snapshots not actual chapters or story arc. The POV switches between characters for each snapshot.

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CRIMSON POV

The steel door groaned shut, the deadbolt throwing with a heavy clack that sealed the night out. The loft was dark, lit only by the bleeding amber glow of the city through the grid of dirty factory windows. We moved through the space like a single unit, the adrenaline of the job still humming in my veins as we began to shed the weight of our gear.

Kael dropped his rifle on the table first. His vest followed, hitting the concrete with a dull thud. He was all thick, brutal muscle, his skin a canvas of dark ink that crawled up his neck and over his knuckles. Rourke was quieter, more methodical. He unstrapped his own gear, his shoulders rolling as he freed himself from the weight of Kevlar and steel.

I stood in the center of the room, my own mask pulled down and hanging loose around my neck. I could feel my red hair, long and damp, spilling over my shoulders, catching the city light like a thread of fire. I was still in my kit. My heavy combat boots on the floor, my fishnets torn in places and glistening with the night’s rain, my shorts tight over my hips and riding high on my thighs.

Kael crossed the space in three long strides. He didn’t stop until he was right in front of me, his massive frame blocking out the light. His hand came up, palm flat against my throat. He wasn’t squeezing, just resting it there, a gentle and ever present claim. My pulse jumped against his skin, fast and wild.

“You’re alright,” he said. His voice was a low rumble. I leaned into it. Letting the rumble sink into my soul.

I nodded, my eyes locked on the dark voids of his mask. Behind me, I felt Rourke move in, the heat of him pressing against my back. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me into the cage of his body. I was held, perfectly, between them.

Rourke’s hands worked the buckle of my vest, he removed it from me and turned to put it on the table. His fingers slid up under my shirt, finding my skin, tracing the line of my ribs. Kael was watching, his thumb stroking the line of my jaw.

“Off,” Kael commanded.

I pulled my shirt over my head, the air hitting my skin, cool and sharp. Rourke’s mouth was on my shoulder, my neck, kissing the salt and grit away. His hands slid down, pushing my shorts over my hips until they fell to my ankles. I stepped out of them, leaving me in nothing but the torn fishnets and my heavy boots.

Kael pushed me back against Rourke’s chest, his own body following. He dropped to his knees in front of me, his hands gripping my thighs, thick fingers digging into me. He spread me open, the fishnets tearing easily under his rough hands.

He didn’t wait. He leaned in, his mouth covering me. His tongue was broad and flat, dragging through my wetness in long, possessive strokes. My head fell back against Rourke’s shoulder, my fingers tangling in Kael’s short hair. Rourke held me upright, one hand heavy on my shoulder, the other drifting down my spine, over the curve of my ass.

Rourke gently turns my head over my shoulder to kiss him. His tongue and pressure in my mouth match the timing of Kael as he ravishes my pussy. I dissolve into them, completely weightless and consumed.

I felt Rourke’s finger teasingly and slowly start to trace my tight hole. I clenched around nothing as Kael’s tongue worked my clit. I heard the click of a cap, and then the cold drip of lube made me gasp against Kael’s relentless mouth. Rourke’s slick finger pressed slowly inside my ass. It wasn’t demanding; it was just filling, teasing, anchoring me in the perfect space between two men who loved me.

Kael stood up, dragging his mouth from my pussy. The wetness glistened on his lips. His cock was heavy and hard, freed from his tactical pants. He wrapped a hand around the base, slicking the head with my wetness.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded, his voice soft but absolute.

I looked. His eyes held mine. They were dark, hungry, and filled with a softness only I ever saw.

He pushed in.

It was a deep, consuming fullness. His cock stretched my pussy, sliding home in one smooth, powerful thrust. My body bowed, held perfectly between them. Rourke’s finger curled inside my ass, a slow, deep press that matched the rhythm Kael was setting in my pussy. It was a dual invasion, a perfect, overwhelming possession that left no room for thought, only sensation.

Kael fucked me with a deep, deliberate rhythm. Not fast, but heavy. Every thrust drove me down onto Rourke’s finger.

“More,” I gasped. “Please.”

Rourke withdrew his finger, replacing it with the blunt tip of a small plug. He pressed it in slowly, a bright, stretching pressure that made me cry out. Kael caught the sound with his mouth, kissing me deeply. His hand was still on my throat, a steady, grounding pressure that tethered me to the moment.

“That’s it, baby,” Rourke murmured against my ear. “Take it. Take us.”

The rhythm intensified. Kael’s hips snapped against mine. Rourke held the plug perfectly in place, his thumb circling my asshole.

My pussy was involuntarily squeezing Kael’s cock as they both fucked a slow, deep and long orgasm from my body shuddering in the cage of their arms.

The feeling of me coming triggered his. He drove deep, buried to the hilt, his cock pulsing hot inside me. His forehead pressed to mine. Rourke held us both, his hands gentle on my hips, his body a solid wall at my back.

Rourke eased the plug out slowly, watching my face. Kael cleaned me with a warm cloth he’d fetched from the bathroom. The masks were off now, my men, scarred, and utterly devoted.

I curled between them, my head on Kael’s chest, Rourke’s arm draped over my waist. The city hummed outside the grimy windows. The job was done. The blood was washed away. I was safe. We were home.

And in the dark of the loft, surrounded by the weight of their bodies and the truth of their devotion, I knew there was no place else I would ever want to be.

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