Page 15 of Crushing Clover

I laughed, again getting that feeling that I was on a date with a cute boy, and that we were both younger and more innocent than we were. If Saint John heard us talking, he’d probably throw up on the nearest mannequin.

“Is this how she dresses?” I asked.

He was confused for a moment, then shrugged. “I haven’t seen her in over two years. I have no idea what she wears now.”

“Is what Saint John said true? Would you take her back immediately, no matter what?”

“Who knows? There’s a lot of water under the bridge, but a lot of old memories, too. We went through a lot together.”

“How long were you four an item?”

“Part of culinary school.”

Longingly, I thought of post-secondary. I’d had the marks to go, but they hadn’t been high enough to get me a free ride. It had been difficult to study, work, and get all my chores done at my last group home.

I went back into the change room and put on a dress that had floating layers. The bodice was held together by three strings in the back, leaving the rest of my back bare.

“Damn—turn for me.”

I turned, peeking at him over my shoulder and enjoying the way his gaze licked my back’s revealed skin.

“You like this one?”

“I’d love to chase you through the mall and tear it off you in a service hallway.”

I blushed and scanned the area for the saleswoman, but she was at the front of the store folding T-shirts.

“You can’t say things like that in public!”

“Are you that afraid of the mall police?”

“Don’t laugh. Those dudes have guns.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t complain about watching me fuck your tight little pussy.”

“Lucky!”

He chewed his lip ring and made a sound like he was planning to make a meal out of me.

“Behave!”

“Never.” He swiped for my wrist, but I stepped away and darted back into the change room.

One of his big hands came over the top of the door, feeling for the slide lock. He flicked it up and down, letting me know he could let himself in if he chose to.

“Put on something else that makes me want to fuck you up against a wall,” he murmured, but not quietly enough.

“Shh!”

I chose another black dress, but this one draped over my breasts, hanging from my hard nipples in a teasing cascade. The peekaboo of skin underneath made it look like it would be easy to tug down, and the skirt was short and flirty.

“How long was culinary school?”

“Ours was four years. Saint’s family wanted him to do something more prestigious, but he refused to do anything else.”

“More prestigious than owning a thriving, upscale restaurant?”

“I think his father was hoping he would take over the family business.”

“Which is?”

“They’re in pharmaceuticals,” he said almost too smoothly.

“If he’s so rich, how did you guys end up going to the same high school? Were you a rich kid, too?”

“My family is comfortable, but we look like peasants compared to his family.”

“The house you guys live in is nice but not a mansion.” I hoped my voice sounded neutral.

“We don’t take money from family. That’s rule number one.

The fact that his father managed to convince him to take the loan for the restaurant is something Saint hasn’t gotten over.

Warren holds it over Saint’s head all the time, but we are this close to paying him back.

” Lucky’s hand rose above the dressing room door to show me his thumb and forefinger very close together.

“Is thumb and forefinger a standard unit of measurement for debt when you go to culinary school?”

“Absolutely. We covered it in fourth year.”

I laughed and opened the change room door. This time, his gaze wasn’t only appreciative—it was hungry.

“We’ll be getting that one, too.”

By the time he’d bought me enough clothes and shoes to get me through two weeks, both of us were exhausted, but Lucky was determined we needed to hit the lingerie store next.

“I don’t need anything extravagant,” I objected. “Didn’t you say there’s a department store in this mall?”

“How are you going to seduce Saint in granny panties?”

“Don’t be a snob. They sell all kinds of underwear at department stores. They’re often more comfortable and not such a waste of money.”

“Why do you think panties are a waste of money?”

I trailed after him into the store. Of course, as soon as the two saleswomen saw Lucky, they headed our way.

“Hi there! Can I help you with…anything?” the blonde one called before the brunette could stake a claim.

“She needs new underwear. And bras.” He stepped aside and gestured to me, and both women looked crestfallen.

“What do you like?” the brunette asked me, recovering first.

“What’s on sale?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about that,” Lucky said, frowning.

Moments later, they were bringing him things, and he was pointing out what we did and didn’t want. The pile of underwear and bras on the counter kept growing—most of them wispy and far too sexy to be useful. Thankfully, he wasn’t asking me to try things on.

They moved from that to negligees, and I gave up entirely and found a padded bench where I could sit. It was probably meant for men waiting for their girlfriends, but my tired legs didn’t care.

If you walked out, he wouldn’t even notice.

You could make a run for it.

And go where, exactly?

Lucky was fun to be around when he wasn’t trying to relocate my cervix, and being with the guys kept a roof over my head and food in my stomach. It also kept me from being recaptured and sold to a brothel on the other side of the world.

Either of these women would gladly trade places with me, and if they met the other two guys, they’d probably fucking faint. If I didn’t look like their ex, and if I hadn’t been foisted on them, maybe this whole situation could have been fun.

All things considered, though, Saint was an asshole, and my butt had some spectacular bruises from the belt spanking he’d given me.

By the time Lucky had paid and gathered all the other bags he’d been toting, I was almost asleep.

“Come on, shy girl.”

“Shy girl? I’m not shy,” I said, frowning. “I used to be a dancer, and you know what I do now. How could I possibly be shy?”

He smiled down at me, his gaze affectionate. “I can tell.”

If I thought we were heading back to Lucky’s truck, I was sadly mistaken.

“Where are you taking me now?”

“It’s a surprise.”

He opened a door that stood in the middle of a walled-up storefront. I had barely enough time to register the warning saying the construction area required safety gear before he shut the door behind us.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be in here.”

He put a hand to my lower back and ushered me deeper inside.

“What is this?” I asked. The space was freshly drywalled and painted, and one side wall was covered with mirrors. He put the bags down inside the entrance.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be in here,” I said again, not caring that I sounded like a nervous teenage girl.

“Saint and Rush stick me with the jobs they don’t want to do. The understanding is I’ll find a way to make it worth my time.”

“Worth your time?” I parroted. My tired brain didn’t catch on to what he meant until he took me by the shoulders. I thought he would kiss me, but he pushed me to my knees hard and fast.

“What are you—” The last word in my sentence didn’t have a chance to come out, because he filled my mouth with dick.

Eyes wide, I struggled to adapt as he pushed deeper, not giving me time to think about how to make it good for him.

He grabbed my hair and fucked my mouth, his dick piercings clacking against my teeth and bumping against my tongue.

They were warm, but as I did my best to suck and accommodate him, I kept worrying one of them would come loose and I’d either swallow or inhale it.

“Fuck. That’s right. I’ve been thinking of this ever since we left the house.”

I tried to pull back to point out that someone might walk in, but he absolutely wasn’t having it.

He held my hair tighter and choked me on his dick, making it impossible to breathe.

Instinctively, I tried to fight for air, but he only adjusted his stance, knocking me backward and getting more violent.

I was drooling, choking as he took his pleasure, and when I looked up at him, the sadistic, feral gleam in his yellow eyes made me suddenly wonder if I’d gotten him all wrong.

This was the Lucky who had fucked me so hard my cervix felt bruised even the next day, not the guy I’d been joking around with earlier.

He pushed deep into my throat, and I struggled to push him away, struggled to get air, hating him, sure I would die.

He snarled something else, but I didn’t catch what he said, and a moment later he spilled hot cum down my throat, bypassing my gag reflex entirely.

I didn’t even taste anything. As he pulled back and released my hair, I fell back, gasping and coughing.

My throat felt raw, and my jaws hurt and my nose was running as hard as my eyes.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.”

What the fuck?

I twisted to look behind me, my bare thighs sliding on the cold tile floor.

An older man in work clothes was standing by the door with a nasty grin. “Can’t say I didn’t enjoy the show, though.”

“Fuck off, man.” Lucky left me on the floor and gathered our shopping bags.

“You let me have a piece of her, and I’ll forget any of this ever happened,” the construction worker drawled. “If not, I guess I’m going have to call security.” He thumbed the radio on his hip and Lucky looked from it, to me, then back at the man.

“How about you step aside, and I won’t kick your ass.”

The guy inflated his chest. “You think I’m afraid of some stupid surfer?”

“I think you’d better be, if you don’t want to be smiling out of your throat.” He didn’t take his eyes off the guy. “Come on.”

I scrambled to my feet and slunk over to him, not looking the man in the eyes.

The guy spat on the floor and started to follow us as we headed for the door. “Hey little thing, I’ll give you some—”

Lucky punched him in the mouth but didn’t put his weight behind it. The guy was startled enough to shut up.

“You don’t look at her, and you don’t fucking talk to her.

” He pushed me out the door and shut it behind me, staying in the construction zone with the stranger and our shopping bags.

I swiped my forearm across my face, trying to dry some of the spit and snot.

My eyes were leaking. I kept my head down and waited, hoping like hell no one would pay attention to one bedraggled girl.

From the other side of the door, I could hear scuffling. Lucky came out alone.

“What did you do to him?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” He hefted the shopping bags and took my hand in his free one. I couldn’t help but notice his bloody knuckles. “You didn’t leave,” he observed calmly, as though getting in fights was no big deal for him.

“Where would I go?”

“I don’t know. Paris? Somewhere to start a new life.”

“I have nowhere to go—no money, no passport.”

“You do have a hot mouth. Your hair’s a fucking mess right now though.” He combed his fingers through my hair before reclaiming my hand. “Do you know what we still need to buy you? Toothpaste and a hairbrush.”

He seemed to find that pretty funny.

I wasn’t laughing anymore.