Page 35 of Crushing Clover

In the dark, cum leaked out of me.

Who the hell had fucked me?

Maybe it didn’t matter.

Quietly, I did my best to straighten my bedding, but it was lumpy and didn’t make the floor any more comfortable. If only I could get up to use the bathroom, but it would have to wait.

Chapter 9

Later, I woke again, not knowing why—other than feeling like the hardwood was digging into my ribs, or vice versa. My pussy felt bruised.

I lay there, listening to the silence, trying to figure out what had woken me this time. A toilet flushed. Someone groaned.

Without warning, the lights in the room flipped on, and I threw my arm over my eyes—or tried to. The flinging was pre-empted by the leather cord attaching me to the foot of the bed.

Was this what it felt like to be old? Everything hurt, and I only wanted to take a Tylenol and go back to sleep.

“Rise and shine, fuckers.” Saint John sounded angry. It was too early in the morning for angry.

“Good morning, sunshine,” someone grumbled. I had a feeling it was Rush, because I doubted Lucky would want to start the day with an argument.

Saint John crouched next to me, examining his handiwork.

“Oh, look. She didn’t even try to get away. Were you hoping for some dick, little girl?”

He dropped my wrist so that my hand thumped to the floor.

“I got dick in the middle of the night, thanks,” I grumbled. “I’m perfectly fine with being dickless for the rest of the day.”

His glare was nasty. “Who fucked you in the middle of the night? Everyone got laid last night except you.”

“I don’t know who it was, to be honest. You’re all interchangeable, especially in the dark.”

What the fuck? Why was I starting an argument first thing this morning? Why did he have to be such an asshole with no provocation?

“It wasn’t me,” said Lucky.

Rush scowled. “Wasn’t me.”

They looked at each other then directed their gazes at Saint John, who scoffed.

“As if I would.”

Were they fucking with me? Or were they fucking with each other? All three of them were eyeing each other with suspicion, but then the subject was dropped as we began the day. Or, as they began the day. I was left in my blankets for quite a while. Lucky’s gaze drifted my way several times, but he said nothing about untying me.

Eventually, Saint John approached and crouched down. “Good girl, not asking to be untied.” He unknotted the leather on my wrist until it fell off, but left the other end attached to the leg of the bed, evidently for later.

Great.

At least I knew where I’d be sleeping tonight.

Rubbing at my freed wrist, I avoided his gaze.

“What do you say?”

I glanced up at him in disbelief but cleared my throat. “Thank you for untying me?”

He arched a black brow, his gaze hard. “Maybe you should try that again.”

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