Page 16 of Crushing Clover

Another evening of being cuffed to the couch in the restaurant’s office.

Another night chained at the foot of the bed while they banged each other’s brains out.

Frustration. Sleep.

A big body on top of mine in the dark. A big, thrusting cock. A hand over my mouth.

“Whoever orders the locking leather cuffs for our new pet, please order a collar to go with it,” Saint John said casually as he got dressed the next morning.

A collar? He was joking, right?

I examined the three of them, trying to guess who’d fucked me in the middle of the night for the second night in a row. Had it been the same guy?

“I’ll do it.” Rush ran his hands through his long, shaggy hair.

Saint John gave him a nod and silently untied me. Without even looking at me, he left the room.

The man hated me.

“I can take her shopping again, if you want,” Lucky offered. “I’m sure you have better things to do.”

“I’d like to get to know our little captive better.”

Lucky’s gaze lingered on me, almost as though he were disappointed.

“Lucky, you know you have to share your toys even when they’re new and shiny.”

“I’m not monopolizing her. I’ve done what Saint asked—no more, no less.”

Rush shook his head, as though he thought Lucky was funny. “Did you fuck her at the mall when you took her shopping?”

“Just a blowjob. No big deal,” he said sourly.

“And I know your knuckles didn’t get like that from beating her.” Rush clapped him on the shoulder. “I didn’t want to bring it up in front of Saint.”

“For fuck’s sake, Rush—you know me better than that,” Lucky groused. “Some asshole walked in on us and decided I should let him have a piece of her so he didn’t report us to security.”

“Justified, then. Don’t forget to stay in control of that temper.”

“I know,” Lucky grumbled.

“I’ll forgive the tone since you haven’t had coffee yet, but you watch your mouth.”

Lucky’s cheeks flushed, and his gaze drifted to me.

“I’m not going to pretend things aren’t what they are because she’s around—especially since she may be here long term.” He pulled Lucky close and kissed him, smoothing back his hair. “See? I don’t think it freaks her out.”

“Still.”

“What happens between the three of us—the four of us—stays between the four of us.” Rush gazed from Lucky to me. “Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied. Weird. I’d never had the urge to call someone sir before unless they were an old man I didn’t know. Rushton had a gravitas about him. “I don’t gossip, and even if I did…”

“You’d have no one to tell. Do you need another shower?” he asked dryly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Did someone fuck you in the middle of the night again?”

I nodded.

“Who the fuck? Was it you, Lucky?”

“No.”

They eyed each other.

Hopefully, the question was rhetorical, because I didn’t have a clue.

“Wear something pretty,” Rush said, as though giving up on Lucky telling him the truth.

Lucky caught me by the hand and led me through the common area back up to his room. Saint John was cooking, and I could only imagine what he intended to make me eat today.

Hopefully not literal dog shit.

I’d expected to find the clothes we’d bought still dumped in the pile we’d left it in, but Lucky showed me that he’d hung everything in his big closet.

“When did you have time to do all this?” I gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“I woke up early this morning. The three of you were still out cold, so I thought I’d get this done. Your new underwear and lingerie are all washed. I gave you three drawers, too.” He pointed out which ones.

I never knew what to expect with this guy—kind, cruel, thoughtful, sweet, evil. He was chaos incarnate.

“Let’s get in the shower. If we’re not down there in time for breakfast, there’ll be hell to pay.”

He looked his fill, but behaved otherwise, despite his cock being ready for action.

When we were done, he wrapped me in a towel then dried himself off.

“Who do you think has been fucking you at night?” he asked, almost too innocently.

“I’m not sure.”

“You can’t tell the difference between the three of us in the dark?”

I shook my head. “I haven’t been here long enough for that.”

“Not even by dick size?” He unwrapped my towel and brushed his lips along my collarbone, making me shiver with pleasure.

“I keep getting woken up out of a dead sleep to find someone pushing into me. I don’t have time to wake up all the way, let alone think, and he doesn’t say anything. Besides, you’re all pretty evenly matched when it comes to…endowment. You’re all too fucking big.”

“Be grateful they haven’t tried to get into your ass yet.”

“Yeahhh. Thanks for taking two for the team,” I said, patting his shoulder as we headed for the bedroom and my half of the closet.

He gave me a speculative look. “I bet it’s Saint.”

“The man can’t stand me. Besides, if he wanted to do me, why would he wait for the middle of the night? Neither of you would stop him.”

He chose a micro-mini babydoll dress from the closet and laid it out on his pristinely made bed. “Maybe whoever it is likes keeping you off kilter.”

“Is it you?”

“Why would I hide it from you? I’m a pretty straightforward guy.” He shrugged, choosing a pair of panties and a bra from my newly assigned drawers. “Or maybe it’s a ghost.”

“With a big fat ghost dick?”

He shrugged. “My aunt really believes in ghosts.”

We dressed quickly, but not before he insisted I turn for him to model the bra and underwear.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He sighed, dejected. “I’m going to ask Saint if I can fuck you on my break tonight.”

I stepped into the dress he’d chosen—a floaty blue one I loved. “Can you zip me?” I turned my back to him.

He zipped up my dress, then planted a kiss on my nape. We’d gone back to our playful dynamic with each other, but I hadn’t forgotten what he was capable of. He acted like a sweetheart, but he hadn’t apologized for almost choking me out on his dick at the mall.

“Did your secret nocturnal fuck buddy get you off, at least?”

“No.”

He laughed low, making me shiver. “Then that’s how you know it wasn’t me. If I was going to break the rules like that, I’d break that rule, too.”

“Fucking me at night is against the rules?”

“Not exactly.” But he sounded like he wouldn’t do it without asking.

Or he was messing with me, and he was the one doing it.

“I wonder how long it’ll be before Saint lets you up on the furniture.

I want you next to me in bed.” He pulled me close, his hands on my upper arms, our bodies pressed together.

“I don’t know, but at this point I’m getting my best sleep on the couch in the office. It’s the only time I don’t wake up sore, in more ways than one.”

He let me go and took out some silver Mary Janes for me, then shook his head and chose a pair of nude sandals.

Rather than hand them to me, he sat me in a chair and put them on my feet, as though I really were Cinderella.

That romantic feeling only lasted until the sandals were on, though, because then he pushed the hem of my skirt up slightly and ran his fingertip over the gusset of my underwear.

Through the fabric, he found my clit and teased at it.

I whimpered, and he groaned.

“We’d better go down,” he suggested, but his eyes lingered between my legs.

“Go down?” I asked breathily.

“Mmhmm.”

“Lucky!” Rush called from downstairs.

“Fucker.” He got to his feet and pulled me up, too. “He always seems to know when I’m up to no good.” His wink was both sexy and scampish, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“What would he do if you didn’t answer because we were fucking?”

“I don’t think either of us wants to go to Cygnet tonight in that much discomfort.”

Damn. It was hard to tear my mind away from his promise of orgasms.

So…hard…

Breakfast was delicious lemon blueberry scones with a side of perfectly cooked bacon. Of course, when the guys were discussing the meal, they used so much culinary jargon I could barely understand them. I sat on the floor beside Saint John and waited impatiently for the next delicious bite.

“You decided to go easy on her today,” Rush observed.

“You know damned well this is what was on the meal plan.” He took another bite of his scone. “I think I kneaded this dough too long.”

“No,” Lucky said, gesturing with his scone. “The blueberries are slightly out of season.”

Saint John shrugged. “Well, there’s no helping that. At least I’m not serving them to the public.”

“They’re edible,” Lucky assured him.

The scones were still warm, and the way they melted on my tongue? How would I ever go back to Pop-Tarts?

“They’re perfect.” I couldn’t help but come to their defense.

Saint John shoved another bite into my mouth, and I hummed with pleasure.

“Pets don’t talk at the table,” he said, not bothering to look at me when he spoke.

“I’m not technically at the table,” I pointed out before I could think better of it.

He glared at me.

I averted my gaze. “Yes, Saint.” The bacon was so perfect I groaned with pleasure. A groan wasn’t words, so maybe he’d forgive it.

Rush sipped his coffee. “She’s just happy she doesn’t have to eat fiddleheads today.”

“I wonder if there’s a human version of dog food,” Saint John mused. “She’s not supposed to like being hand-fed so much. Some people are born without shame.”

With the next bite of scone, I considered biting his finger.

“From now on, I want her naked in the house.”

What the fuck? No!

I frowned at the floor rather than speak.

“Should we get some mats for her to sit on, so she doesn’t make a mess of the floors?”

“Hmm. Probably.”

He wasn’t serious, right?

After breakfast, dishes got assigned to Lucky, and I got whisked out the door and into the beautiful morning.