Rain pelts the skylight above the bed like a lullaby whispering to keep sleeping, but the tender brush of lips down my chest has my eyes springing open. It's not a surprise Angie is here. Although, the night is a little hazy after meeting her at the bar for drinks and stumbling back to my place. I brush the messy head of curls out of Angie's face and look at her, but she continues making her way down, so I let her.

Never in a million years did I believe I'd allow a psycho to blow me, but I've learned to compartmentalize when it comes to her. Sex can be sex because neither of us is kidding ourselves - we know once this crazy plan is all said and done, we'll part ways and never speak again.

In the meantime, what's the harm in getting off?

So, I take a firm grip of her curls and help her slide that pouty mouth up and down. She tries shoving my hands away to hold me in place, but I give a gentle thrust. That earns a vicious glare as she looks up from her long lashes.

"Keep doing that shit, and I'll bite it off!"

"Brutal. I like it."

"Ugh, you would!" She rolls her eyes. "Now hold still. I like being the one in control."

"I'm aware. I like teasing you."

"Well, don't."

I'm about to retort when she plunges my dick deep into her mouth again and shuts me right up with swirls of her tongue. It's a sensation that never ages, and at the rate she's simultaneously jerking me off with her hands, I'm going to explode in three seconds.

Except she halts, her mouth leaving my tip with a pop as her eyes dart around.

"Where's my phone?"

"Who cares," I groan. "I was on the brink of coming."

"I'm not kidding! I just heard it chime."

She scrambles across the bed and digs through her clothes off to the side before hauling it out like a squirming fish. "Found it!"

"Congrats. Now finish what you were doing."

"Shut your pretty face." She taps on the screen. "We can't afford to miss any communication with Reina."

"Fine, but you owe me."

"Last I checked, you owe me, considering I got you off twice last night even though you behaved like a psycho stalker the other day. I'm still pist at you, by the way."

"I can't help it if my dick has you hypnotized."

Angie stops typing and narrows her eyes at me. Setting the phone aside, she begins crawling across the mattress and straddles my hips. "Do you like the feel of me sitting on your dick?"

"I do."

"How about when I put it inside me?"

"Even better."

"Hm..." She grabs my cock and strokes it across her slick clit. "I want you to beg."

"I don't beg," I say, flipping her onto her back and plunging deep inside. Her eyes widen with a gasp as she bites her lip.

"Fine. You win, handsome."

"Oh, yeah? And what do I win?"

"Me. I'm yours for the next few minutes."

"Lucky me." I thrust, and Angie closes her eyes with a moan.

"This... This is a good angle. Keep... Keep going," she stutters.

And for the next thirty minutes, her body is mine as I pound her in every position she can handle. Her favorite is on all fours, especially when she drops to her elbows so I can go deeper. For some reason, Angie prefers not to make eye contact, but every once in a while, she'll toss a hungry glance over her shoulder. She likes getting spanked, but not too hard - just enough to produce a moan. The sound when I bite her ass is even better. I could erupt from that alone, but we always finish with her on top. It's because of her desire to be in control.

So, I let her have it as she rolls her hips over mine with quick breaths. I can always tell when she's about to come because she gnaws her lip and her head falls back with desperate, staccato whimpers. But I wish she'd look at me, so I squeeze her hips and thrust upward.

"Look at me."

"No..." she breathes, running her hands over her breasts.

"Yes." So, I do it again and again, fucking every moan out of her with hard thrusts, but then she releases a strangled cry, her eyes widening as she scrambles off.

"What's wrong?" I sit upright and reach for her, but she smacks my hand away and clutches her abdomen.

"Were you drilling for fucking oil?!"

"I... I'm sorry. I thought you liked it."

"Just—" she grimaces, still clutching her abdomen. "Don't do it that hard next time while I'm on top, ok?"

"Hey..." I inch closer, my knees swooshing across the wrinkled grey sheets, and wrap my arms around her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I won't be so rough next time."

"It's fine." She wriggles free and crawls off the bed to pick up her clothes. "Sometimes sex hurts, but whatever, I'm over it, and we really need to haul ass."

"What do you mean it hurts sometimes?"

"It's nothing."

"Angie, what do you mean?"

"Look, I don't have an STD if that's what you're worried about! Just drop it. We're supposed to meet Reina in two hours, and we just burned through thirty minutes. So, up, up, up!" She claps her hands.

"We can spare a few more minutes. Get back here."

"Listen, I'm already nervous about meeting the Sisters. Not to mention how you went rogue with the Richie situation, so excuse me for not wanting to sit around and have a friendly chat with you."

Her back disappears from the room, and I can hear her bare feet padding to the bathroom in the hallway. Meanwhile, my Johnson has deflated, and I'm still naked.

And confused.

Sometimes sex hurts. What the heck does she mean?

∆∆∆

Golden Gate Park is bathed in bronze as the late morning sun drenches the highway cutting through the grass and trees. Angie clings to my back, the scent of her mango hair wash wafting up my nostrils. I don't know when she did it, but she snuck some of her girly grooming shit into my bathroom. Last time it was her toothbrush. This time it was shampoo and conditioner. But I don't mind.

In fact, there's a lot I'm starting not to mind.

I had forgotten what it's like to shuffle around another person while getting ready for the day - like swapping spots in front of the mirror to brush our teeth or not using all the hot water in the shower. As crazy as Angie is, it was nice having another living, breathing person there during my morning routine.

Even when we exited the apartment, she ensured I wasn't leaving behind my sunglasses or keys. And before hopping onto the motorcycle, I helped her fit the spare helmet over her curls, followed by her giving me a quick peck on the lips.

It's starting to feel like having a girlfriend.

But that's just crazy talk.

"Take this street." She taps my shoulder, so I flash my blinker and turn right. "Reina said the house is at the end of the road with a big gate."

The park is enormous, and other than attending outdoor concerts, I've never explored much of it, so the neighborhoods might as well be on another planet. We snake our way down the street, but all I see are trees on either side, forming a canopy-like tunnel where sunlight winks through the leaves.

"You sure there's a house on this road?"

"That's what my GPS says," Angie hollers into my ear.

There's a lake and a waterfall hidden in the park somewhere I've never seen, and this home feels like one of those places - tucked away from pedestrians and accessible only to those who know where to find it.

"Holy shit," Angie says.

And there, a few yards ahead, is the biggest house I've ever seen - no, scratch that because this place isn't a home, it's a damn mansion! Shifting gears, the motorcycle speeds up, and the eucalyptus trees whip past, closing the gap between us and our final destination. There's gotta be at least twenty rooms in this thing, and it's all gated by an enormous iron fence as tall as the trees. Reina is already there, and she's decked out in a black leather tank top, black skinny jeans, and her red Chucks as she sits on the hood of her black Porsche.

"Took you long enough." She tilts her sunglasses. "Nice ride."

"Likewise," I say, dismounting the Harley Davidson.

Angie removes her helmet and shakes out her hair, the sunlight catching the glossy dark spirals. She's not wearing a skirt today or thigh-high boots. Instead, her legs are hidden under tawny, tweed trousers that skim black combat boots. It must be a business look because she's fishing out a black blazer from her backpack to put over her white tank top. Had I known this was a less casual occasion, I would have worn khakis or a crisp button-down.

"Come on, handsome." Angie yanks my pinky finger, and we walk to the gate.

"We have an appointment with the Sisters," Reina says to the security guards.

"Name?" The taller, yoked-out guard asks. I tug my collar because this dude looks like he can't breathe with those giant muscles sitting on his shoulders. Jesus. Stay off the 'roids.

"You must be new," Reina smirks. "Open the damn gate, or I'll tell them you kept the largest arms dealer in the entire Bay Area waiting."

The guard eyes her, but his companion pokes his head out of the guardhouse and scrambles up to the gate, shoving him aside. "Remember when I told you there are certain people you can't question? Well, this woman is one of them!"

He presses commands into the keypad on the tablet in his hand, and the giant iron gate rolls open. Reina struts past them, and we trail like an entourage.

"I'll drive you." The smarter guard motions to the golf cart off to the side.

We all hop in and zip down the concrete path leading to the house like a grey carpet. Green hedges whip past, and it's as if a grass lawn wasn't good enough for these women because an ombre of pink rose bushes form maze-like paths on either side. I wouldn't mind wandering through it to find a secluded spot to bend Angie over and have my way with her.

Actually, scratch that. The landscape is too romantic for her crazy ass. I'd rather it be Mindy.

The golf cart comes to a halt, and we climb down to stare at the massive Victorian shaded by London Plane trees. They sway with the breeze as chimes hanging from the second-level balcony clang. More security guards pace the wrap-around deck, and we're handed off to one of them in front of the entrance. The immense door dwarfs him, and looks like it would split your knuckles if you knocked. He wastes no time, unlike the dumbass newb at the gate.

"Right this way," he says and escorts us through the foyer with its glossy oak wainscotting and wood flooring that has probably existed since the early nineteen hundreds.

A set of stairs sits to our right, with an oak railing that winds its way to the second level, but it also winds its way down to what I'm assuming is a basement. Oil paintings hang on the opposite side, with family portraits fit for a royal house. With each step, we pass generation after generation of fancily dressed regal figures.

How have I never heard of this place or these Sisters before?

The foyer opens to a great room on the left, with steps leading down. Oversized leather couches rest in front of a brick fireplace that stretches up to the ceiling. Except we're not going in there. Nor are we turning right where a long dining table awaits with place settings, utensils, and glassware - as if these women are ready to entertain twenty guests.

Daylight spills through the double doors ahead, and through the glass, potted trees create a wall of green. The guard pushes open the doors, and we step onto the brick paving of the atrium with its potted roses of various heights scattered throughout the room. The ceiling has a crystal view of the blue sky, but as beautiful as the room is, it doesn't hold my attention the way the two women do.

One of them sits cross-legged in a kimono-style black dress that goes all the way to her ankles, with one arm draped over the back of an antique couch while the other holds up a lengthy cigarette. Her gaze is locked on us, but her expression remains neutral while taking a long drag. The other woman lounges on an antique chaise near the windows in a silky emerald dress, skimming her calves. The golden sun glints across her blonde hair, cascading in waves down her shoulders and her eyes cut to us before bringing a martini to her lips. I feel like I've stepped into a movie.

Both women are fucking goddesses.

"Reina..." The one in black blows out a stream of smoke.

"Madame Augusta." Reina curtsies and nods to the one in green. "Madame Jocelyn."

"Introduce us to your friends." Augusta flicks ash from her cigarette, and I can already feel my spine shrinking.

I still don't know who these women are, but I do know I'm in over my head and shits about to get real real.