Page 49 of Crushing Clover

I fled from them down the darkened beach, the warm sand making me backslide with every step, slowing my progress. Although I tried to listen for the guys, my anxious, labored breathing, the sound of the surf, and the wind covered any sound they might have been making.

Would they shout a warning when they came after me, or would they start their chase in silence?

I could imagine them laughing under their breath—eager and wicked.

Should I veer off toward the buildings across the street?

If I wanted to make it to the truck before they found me, I had to go in that direction, but they’d also be expecting that.

It would be smart for one of them to wait at the truck, planning to catch me before I could touch it and end the game, even if it wasn’t very sportsmanlike.

A billion possibilities spiraled, making it difficult to guess how things would go.

Lucky would chase me without planning. Saint would have a plan. And Rush? It would depend on his mood.

The sand shifted under my feet as I ran and ran.

Oh shit…I’m free.

Civilization was just over the dune.

I could escape.

I could stop someone on the road and ask for help.

I could go to the police.

Maybe they’d put me in witness protection if I promised to testify against Annika and her people. They might set me up somewhere safe, or safer than I would be trying to do it on my own.

The problem was, I’d miss my guys.

My guys?

Ha. There was no doubt I was theirs, but the reverse might not be true.

My breathing was deafening, and my legs were slowing. I was getting tired and a little scared by myself out here in the dark. Anyone could be lurking on the beach.

I hadn’t had good luck with that beach on the island, and I had to force myself not to think about the beating I’d taken.

It was hard not to compare those men to Saint, with their cold gazes and hard hands.

But as mean as Saint could get, I couldn’t believe he would ever be so cruel.

His kink wasn’t terrorizing me and beating me to death, which was what I’d seen in the eyes of those other men.

He liked to humiliate me, but it was at the point where both of us knew it was consensual.

If I asked him to stop—if I used my safeword—he’d stop, even if he wasn’t completely happy about it.

Were those footfalls I could hear in the distance?

It had to have been ten minutes of intermittent running through sand by now, but maybe my imagination was playing tricks with the time.

My throat felt like it was bleeding, my lungs ached, and I wanted to lie down and die, but my competitive streak had reared its ugly head.

If I was going to lose, it wasn’t going to be because I gave up.

One moment I was running along the windswept, dark beach, the next I hit the ground and rolled. Loose, cooling sand got into my eyes and mouth. Had I tripped on driftwood? I gasped for breath.

A crow of laughter hit my ears right before a hard, heavy body landed on my back. I tried to scramble away, but the sand offered my fingers no purchase, and he had me under control before I could worm away.

“I was starting to think you cheated and hopped in a cab,” Lucky growled as he yanked up the back of my skirt and tore off my panties.

He shoved two rough fingers into me, and I blushed hotly at how wet and ready I was.

I hadn’t expected to evade them for so long, and my body had known what was coming and was almost impatient for it.

Even so, I fought as he lined himself up with my pussy, trying to buck him off my back, kicking and struggling.

I got my legs between his, and his amusement turned to thwarted annoyance.

He forced my legs apart more roughly and grabbed the back of my hair, arching me backward.

I gasped in pain, so distracted by his cruel grip that he was pushing into me before I could stop him.

When he was halfway into my pussy, he let go of my hair to grab my hips and yank me back, impaling me on his cock.

Rogue bits of sand made the discomfort ten times worse.

He grunted in thoroughly male satisfaction, the sound filled with aggression and malice.

He didn’t care that I was still struggling to get free; he seemed to enjoy my attempts to escape so he could pull me back again to meet his vicious thrusts.

His cock was a hard, punishing bar, and his piercings felt like hell rather than heaven.

“Fuck, baby—that’s right. It makes my dick so hard when you fight me.”

I flailed, trying to grab hold of his hair, but he caught both my arms and twisted them high behind my back, grinding my face into the sand.

I expected Rush or Saint to show up any minute and make things worse, but he was bad enough on his own when he got like this—drilling into me, bruising me inside.

The way he controlled my body and didn’t care about my discomfort made me hot in ways I didn’t want to examine too closely.

If there was something I’d learned about myself since they’d taken possession of me, it was that I liked how small and controlled they could make me feel with their big bodies—like a toy they masturbated with.

It was disrespectful and would probably make some other women wish they could bring them up on charges, but it made me feel irresistible, as though they couldn’t control themselves with me.

“I like being first, once in a while. I can feel how much harder it is for your little body to take me if you’re not already filled with their cum.

Maybe I should pull out and leave you a little wet, and all bruised inside.

Poor baby.” His thrusts were getting less controlled.

I squeezed him with my inner muscles, trying to make him come faster than he wanted to, and he swore.

Without warning, he yanked out, leaving me gasping.

“Are you trying to trick me into making you some free lube? Bad girl.” His dick, which was slick, stone hard, and cooling in the night air, dragged across my ass cheek.

“You know what you get for that little trick?” He spat, and I felt it hit the top of my ass despite the wind.

He transferred both my arms to one hand.

With the other, he coated my back hole with spit, then pressed a demanding finger against it.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, trying to shy away from his prodding. His one-handed grip on my arms tightened.

Impatiently, he wedged two fingers into me, leaving me gasping and wide-eyed in the dark.

“Lucky, no!”

“We both know that’s not your safeword, Clove. Try again.”

I stammered a few noises, but the burning sensation and way his fingers were moving stopped me from thinking too hard.

“I was trying to be nice. Maybe you’d prefer I force my way in.”

“Please, use my pussy,” I begged.

“No. I’m taking your ass. You’ll thank me later when the other two get a hold of you.

” Ignoring my whining pleas, he twisted and spread his fingers, then pulled them out.

Before my stomach could even stop cramping, he let go of my arms to grip my hip, and was pushing his big dick into me.

He’d spat on himself first, but it still felt like he was trying to push a metal baseball bat into a hole much too small and delicate.

While he was distracted, I stuck my fingers into the sand and tossed it over my shoulder.

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, and I hadn’t expected it to do anything except piss him off, but he made a sound of surprise and swore.

He let me go so suddenly, his cock fell out of my ass and I toppled forward onto my face.

“Are you okay?” I asked, feeling guilty.

Not answering, he kept spitting out sand and rubbing his eyes.

I took that as my cue to run like hell. It couldn’t have been unexpected, but I still felt bad as I sprinted away, ignoring the urge to glance back over my shoulder to check on him or to see if he was following me.

I’d have to make it up to him later. It wasn’t exactly a dirty trick, but it was his own fault for letting down his guard.

Even so, I didn’t like the feeling.

I managed to get my dress back down, but my underwear was long gone.

By the time I got to the street, I must have looked like a disaster. I could only imagine how tangled my hair was. I did my best to run my fingers through it and clean up the smudges of make-up I was sure were under my eyes.

I was so rattled it was difficult to remember how to get back to the truck, but eventually I found what felt like the right area and ducked into an alleyway nearby so I could check out the parking lot.

Nervous, I peeked behind myself. It would be far too easy for someone to grab me in a secluded area like this. We should have been in the middle of nowhere to play this kind of game—then I wouldn’t have to worry about weirdos, other than the ones I lived with.

Wrong parking lot. Damn.

I maneuvered my way back to the street and through various alleys, keeping an eye on the ground for things I shouldn’t be stepping on barefoot while also trying to watch in front and behind me, never knowing where the danger would come from.

More than one man catcalled me, and two people asked if I needed help.

At one point, a shrill whistle jerked my head up, and all I could think was that Saint and Rush were working in tandem and signaling each other. I had no proof, but it seemed plausible.

After a few wrong terms, I found the restaurant but circled around the back of the building next to it, not trusting that one of them wouldn’t be lying in wait.

I watched from the neighboring lot for a few minutes before deciding they were either doing a great job at—what had Noah called it when he was gaming?

Camping? I was pretty sure that was the video game term for hiding like a sneak and picking people off when they least expected it.