Page 72 of Craving Consequences

“Please ... please!” my voice hitches with the hard plunge of Lachlan’s fingers going too deep.

Van kisses my cheek sweetly. “I need another one, baby. One more then we’ll bend you over and fill you up again.”

The thought of them using me to empty in has my insides fisting. Has me practically coming apart on the spot with such blissful violence. I am prepared to do anything they ask just to feel them in me.

But Van suddenly jerks back with a sharp hiss of Lachlan’s name. I barely have a chance to feel the loss when Lachlan is pulling my dress into place. Covering me up. I start to protest when I hear it. The faint shuffle of feet on loose stones.

“Hey, Everly, Bron is looking for you.”

Just like that, it all ends when Bryan’s voice breaks through our little bubble.

Both men step back just as he rounds the storage door and darkens the afternoon light. Lachlan kneels at my feet, head down with the pretense of gathering the spilled items off the floor. Van grabs a random bin off a shelf and holds it at his midsection.

It would all have been wildly comical, except my clit is throbbing. I can barely stand as my knees continue to tremble. I’m panting and my face is flushed, and I’m so pissed I could punch Bryan in the smiling face.

He holds up his phone. “He’s been texting the group asking if anyone’s seen you. I guess your phone must be dead. I told him you were here.”

Idiot.

But it’s not his fault. Mostly.

“Thanks, Bryan. My phone’s in the truck.”

He nods like that makes sense. “I’ll let him know.”

He’s already texting as he turns and hurries out.

Silence follows his departure. I know we’re not continuing even before Lachlan straightens with the box of upended Thanksgiving decorations.

His expression is a closed vault. Iron clad and dark as he faces me. “Get your things, sweetheart.”

There’s no tenderness in his voice now. No teasing. Just the hard, tight command of a man already halfway back behind his walls.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I reach down and brush my dress down over my still trembling body, still sensitive skin. My panties are a wet knot wedged between my legs, and I wonder if Lachlan still wants them.

Van sets the bin back on the shelf, face hard with his own annoyance. He rubs a hand back through his hair and scowls at the spot Bryan had stood.

I get it. There is no doubt in my mind that we all want each other. That it’s mutual and hot, but it’s also very clear that we can’t be trusted alone together.

It’s no one’s fault, but after all this is said and done, after the party, it would be best for all of us to go our separate ways. I don’t like it. The very thought has my heart twisting, but it’s necessary if I want them to be okay. How can they live simple,happy lives if I make things worse for them? I can’t be the reason they lose everything.

Resigned, I drift over to where my dad kept the party supplies. There isn’t nearly as much as Christmas or Halloween, but there are bins of paper plates, cutlery and streamers. I even find several Ziploc baggies full of balloons. Each one is labeled in Dad’s chunky print.

Bach/bachelorette.

Baby shower.

Bar mitzvah.

Birthday balloons are at the very bottom. I chuck it into one of the bins.

With a deep sigh, I plant my fists on my hips and squint up at the blue tote high above my head. It has no label. Curiosity has me bracing my foot along the bottom edge and reaching. My fingers brush the rim. It shifts.

Slides.

I don’t even have time to scream before strong arms grab me around the waist and yank me backwards into a hard chest. The bin cracks across the floor, lid popping off and upending an explosion of colorful lace and tulle.

I don’t even have time to process what it all is when my pulse is racing.

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