Page 56 of Craving Consequences

“Yes,” he growls out, low, deep ... threatening. “That’s exactly what I’ll fucking do, understand?”

My tender pussy pangs with anticipation of his promise. I have to remind it, it has already made all the bad choices in the last twenty-four hours and needs to shut up.

“Yes, sir,” I mumble sheepishly.

As if they wield the power to absorb every drop of oxygen in the world, the air seems to vanish. The heat is sweltering, the sun a brutal fist beating down on the earth. Sweat beads along my brow. Traces lines down my spine. I am painfully aware of how little I am wearing and how easily I could drag them inside when they’re both watching me like a pair of feral wolves.

“I should go...” I fumble, needing distance before I sweep my dress up over my head and let them have me.

“Where?” Van cuts out from between clenched teeth.

I have to really think before I remember my tasks. Neither of them are making it easy when they seem weirdly closer; I could have sworn there was more space between us.

“Storage?” I mumble stupidly.

My head is forced back to peer up into their faces and I’m definitely sure they’re much closer than they used to be.

“We’ll take you,” Lachlan commands. There isn’t a question in sight, or even a suggestion. “Get in the truck.”

Jesus.

I don’t remember it being so hot, but I am melting. I can scarcely catch my breath. The front of my top is doing nothing to conceal the fact that I am literally panting.

Van certainly notices. He can’t seem to stop staring at my heaving breasts like he wants to drag the collar down and...

“That’s okay,” I gasp a little too loudly. “You’ve already done—”

“It wasn’t a request, sweetheart. Get in the truck,” Lachlan warns.

I might have cum a little at the gruff command. A micro-orgasm that has my thighs squeezing uselessly together and rubbing flimsy panties into my soaked sex.

“Yes, sir,” I rasp.

“Now,” he growls from between clenched teeth.

I wait for them to move, to part and give me space, but neither of them do. They stand dangerously close, too still. Watching me with a dare we all know isn’t going to end well.

Logically, I could take a step back. I could put my foot down and tell them I’m fine. I can step around them. So many other options that don’t entail me to walk straight through them.

But my limbs don’t listen to my head. They’re ruled by my skin, by the tingling need to feel them brush against me. To feel their heat and strength.

Feel safe.

The way I had last night when they’d held me. I want them to hold me. It’s such a visceral need I could cry.

So, when I shuffle forward and close that last sliver of space, I regret nothing. All fears of being seen aren’t even a thought when I find myself properly in place.

In my rightful place.

Between the two men who watch me like I’m their entire world.

Lachlan catches my waist. It’s fast and sudden, and I’m locked in place with his chest to my back and Van towering over me. And my heart slams into my chest. My breath catches. I freeze and pulse all at the same time.

I shiver. Hard enough that his fingers tighten and Van’s pupils dilate.

“In the front,” Lachlan drawls into my skin, brushes my ear.

Devours my senses, the use of my knees when they nearly buckle and I find my fingers curled up in Van’s top for support.

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