Page 12 of Crushing Clover

“You’re too trusting. She’s a stranger. Just because she looks like Arabella and she has a pussy for you to fuck, you’re willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. None of us would be in this position if she were trustworthy.”

Lucky didn’t say anything to object, but his expression was serious and disapproving.

“If she’s going to be here for a while, I don’t think that’s fair,” Rush said quietly.

“Fair? None of this is fair. We didn’t ask to become babysitters. I didn’t want this. None of us did.” He set his jaw stubbornly. “She fucked up her own life, and now it’s fucking up ours.”

“It’s not her fault she got dumped here. She got sold to pay for her ex-boyfriend’s debts. She’s here because of that, and because of Warren’s twisted sense of humor.”

“Whatever. I’m not sleeping in bed with that. She could have fucking fleas, for all I know.”

“If she had fleas, I probably would have noticed by now,” Lucky pointed out.

Saint John got in his face. “Everyone in this room knows who the real bitch is in this house, Lucky. If it were up to you, we would have gone crawling to her, groveling for her to take us back.”

“She isn’t Arabella,” Lucky snapped. “You’ve got the two of them tangled in your fucking head.” His aggressively set jaw made both Saint John and Rush raise their eyebrows.

“If I want your input, I’ll beat it out of you,” Saint John grumbled. “Where’s the ankle cuff?”

“I left it in the office.” Rush grimaced.

“Just fucking great.”

“I didn’t think we’d need it here.”

Thank goodness for small mercies. My ankle still had a red mark from the unforgiving metal. Sleeping with it on all night would have been really uncomfortable.

Saint John went into the bedside table and grabbed a leather cuff from one of the drawers.

“I don’t think that’s going to fit her, Saint,” Rush said.

“Give me your wrist.”

I held my arm out to him, and he tried to fasten the leather cuff on me, but it was so big I could slip out of it without much effort.

“Of fucking course.” He rolled his eyes. “Someone order a set of girly-sized cuffs tomorrow.” He barked out the order the way I imagined he commanded the kitchen at the restaurant, with every expectation of being obeyed.

Rushton grunted.

He tossed the leather cuff aside and fastened a long leather thong around my wrist with a series of intricate knots. Its tail end dragged on the floor.

I was momentarily distracted by the sight of the other two stripping out of their boxer briefs. So much hardness covered with smooth, naked skin.

Saint John made sort of a bed roll for me with the blankets at the foot of the bed.

“If you’re a good girl maybe we’ll get a mattress for the floor.” He lowered his dark brows. “In the morning, if it looks like you’ve tampered with my knots, your sleeping arrangements are going to get a lot less comfortable, understand?”

I nodded, lowering my gaze. I wanted nothing more than to tell him where he could shove his knots, but I wasn’t stupid. For the foreseeable future, I’d have to take whatever this asshole wanted to dish out.

“Two more things, girl. First, if you ever tell anyone about what happens in this room, I will slit your throat without hesitation. To be honest, I’m looking forward to it.

This area seems to keep getting more close-minded, and we can’t afford to lose business.

Second, if you get yourself off and I find out about it?

What I did to you in the office is going to seem like a child’s punishment. ”

I nodded.

“The girl will say, ‘Yes, Saint,’” he prompted me.

“Yes, Saint,” I repeated dutifully.

He gave me a condescending pat on the head, then fastened the other end of the leather tie on my wrist to the foot of the bed.

It was far more comfortable than the metal ankle cuff.

Now I had to choose whether to use the blankets he’d given me for padding or to stay warm.

The hardwood was unforgiving, but at least it was better than the stone in the main room.

Why was he warning me about orgasms anyway? Because I was finally going to have a moment of pseudo-privacy when they turned out the lights?

I settled into my little nest of blankets, feeling like I was having a sleepover but without a friend to talk to. Instead, the boys we might have gossiped about were all in the room with me—three of them. All assholes in their own way.

I rolled my eyes then closed them. My tied arm felt like it was at an odd angle no matter how I positioned myself.

When the lights didn’t get shut off right away, I opened my eyes again. They were crawling into bed.

Lord, please don’t tell me they sleep with the light on?

It slowly dawned on me that the murmuring I was hearing wasn’t a conversation at all. Were they making out on the bed? With me right here? With the lights on?

They were going to fuck each other and ignore me? I mean, that was hot, but it was also somewhat insulting.

Not that I would complain about having less work to do.

Things were getting hot on the bed, from the quiet sounds of male pleasure.

I wanted to peek, but wasn’t sure if it would piss off Saint John.

I glanced at the mirror that hung on the outside of the walk-in closet door and realized I could see almost everything.

The chaotic tangle of limbs made it hard to decipher what belonged to which man.

Maybe it didn’t matter.

Lucky seemed to be the center of things, with the other two touching him, working him up. Rush spat in his hand and slid it between Lucky’s ass cheeks. Lucky groaned and his dick spasmed, already fully hard. Surprisingly, Saint John was kissing Lucky’s mouth, both of them hungry.

They were mostly silent, other than the occasional grunt or moan.

I felt like a creepy voyeur, but there was no looking away as Rush worked his way into Lucky’s ass.

Lucky gasped and mouthed a trail down to Saint John’s already throbbing cock.

He swallowed him down and Saint John threw his head back, his big hand tangled in Lucky’s hair as Rush began to thrust, the hollows of his perfect ass flexing.

Lucky was gasping around Saint John’s cock and pushing back to meet Rush.

There was no hesitancy—they were accustomed to sharing.

Their hands ran over Lucky’s bare skin, tracing his tattoos, exploring the ridges of his muscular torso.

They took what they wanted from him, but he gave it so willingly. His cock strained, ignored by the men using him and his low, needy sounds were so fucking sexy I squirmed where I lay, pressing my thighs together, wishing I dared reach down and do exactly what I had been forbidden to do.

My pussy fluttered in a spontaneous, low-key orgasm, leaving me even more frustrated. The hand that was tied twitched, knowing it could do a better job of getting me off than squirming around ever would.

Saint John was the first to lose control, groaning as Lucky sucked his soul out of his body.

His hips slowed then stopped, and as Lucky gasped for air, a drop of cum escaped the corner of his mouth.

He sucked his way off of Saint John and licked at the corner of his mouth.

Rush wasn’t far behind, arching over Lucky’s back, pressing his forehead between his shoulders and giving a long, blissful shudder.

His expression of ecstasy sent another wave of heat through my body, painfully tightening my nipples.

After a show like that, Saint John honestly expected me not to give myself any relief?

The man was a fucking monster.

They moved off into the bathroom, and I lay there frustrated, wondering if I could manage to get myself off once the lights were out. Could I keep my breathing even enough? Should I try now, while they were busy in the bathroom?

Saint John came back too soon, and I casually slid my hand away from my pussy, worse off than I’d been before trying to take the edge off. I lay there, trying not to think about what I’d watched in the mirror, but every time I closed my eyes it was all I could see—all I could hear.

They were joking around and laughing together as Rush turned out the light. The mattress compressed with their combined weight. No wonder the bed was so fucking big.

I lay in the dark, still listening as their breathing evened out.

My free hand slipped down between my thighs again.

Even if I could figure out how to stay quiet, it wasn’t the hand I was used to.

I had a hard time getting myself off even at the best of times, so trying to do it quietly with the wrong hand seemed like a losing proposition.

How was I going to sleep? I tried to settle down and resigned myself to being uncomfortable.

I’d gone without orgasms often enough with Noah, but I’d also never been quite so desperate for one.

Sex with him had been exciting when we were younger and eventually became a nice way to reconnect after a long day, but it had never been seriously hot to the point where I felt like my body might combust.

Between my arousal and the hard floor, I found myself shifting.

The guys hadn’t gotten Lucky off, either. Had they let him do it later, in the bathroom? Maybe that asshole controlled his orgasms, too. Whatever. It was their dynamic to sort out and none of my business.

Uncomfortable, I stared at the dark ceiling, waiting for morning.

Intense pleasure woke me. Something was teasing at my clit, and it felt fucking amazing. I gasped and bucked, but strong hands held me down—held me still.

What was I lying on? It was hard as fuck.

The first reaction I had was fear, both because I didn’t know where I was or who was between my legs, but their tongue was fucking heavenly, and the finger that worked into my pussy was both self-assured and distressingly cold.

He groaned against my overheated clit. It took a minute for all the pennies to drop—where I was, who it might be.

It was impossible to know if it was Rushton or Lucky, but at that point I didn’t much care.

The mouth left where I needed it to be, and he crawled up my body. Instinct told me to keep my legs together, but he wasn’t having it. He wedged his knee between my thighs and settled between them, his weight pinning me.

“Don’t you dare fucking come.” The growl in my ear was indistinct—male, heated. He pushed his cock into me with slow, controlled thrusts that made me whine. The blanket I lay on slid on the floor, and he grumbled a curse, tugging it out from underneath me before plunging back in.

Fuck, he felt so good.

It had to be Lucky fucking me with such ruthless desperation.

The other two had gotten off too recently for them to be so needy, right?

I loved the feel of him on top of me, his pubic bone rubbing at my overly sensitive clit.

I squirmed beneath him—chasing my orgasm despite the warning.

Would he even be able to tell if I came?

The floor dug into my back, unforgiving, punishing me with every thrust. I gasped too loudly, and he covered my mouth with his hand, accidentally blocking my nose at the same time. I arched beneath him, trying to breathe, sucking in a lungful of air whenever his hand shifted and I could manage it.

His thrusts got harder, faster. The tension inside me grew, and the shortage of oxygen made my head swim.

My orgasm teetered, almost there, but his thrusts became punishing, hurting me.

He shuddered over top of me and lay there for a minute, his chest heaving as I squirmed and whimpered in pain and frustration.

He pulled out and gave my nipple a cruel pinch, and my pussy responded with an appreciative flutter that almost felt like an orgasm but was nowhere near as satisfying.

He got up and climbed back onto the bed as I caught my breath and tried not to cry out of sheer desperation. There was some shuffling around as the other two adjusted in their sleep and then everything went silent.

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.