As we head down the corridor, we walk past Alec’s office. I can hear him tapping away at his keyboard as if nothing is wrong.
FORTY-FOUR
SUMMER
The next ten days pass like a dream.
Now that I’m not working, the four of us fall into a new routine. Every morning, I wake up in bed with Fraser. We hole up in the quilts for a bit, then Fraser drags me to the loch for a swim. Even though I’m still more of a hot-tub girl, I’m learning to appreciate wild swimming.
I especially appreciate howthoroughFraser is when he dries me off on the bank after. Poor Bessie the cow has seen some things.
When we get back, Cameron’s got breakfast ready, and we all eat together. Then I spend the rest of the morning helping out on the farm.
Turns out, I like farm chores. They’re tiring, but they’re also a lot easier than influencing, in a way. I’m not anxious about how I look or whether I’m saying the wrong thing when I’m feeding chickens or harvesting veg. I work under the open sky, getting my hands dirty, and it feels amazing.
And it’s an added bonus that I’m doing my chores with men who will not stop touching me. When Alec shows me how to milk the farm’s dairy cow, he sits me on his lap for the demonstration.When I help Fraser clear out the hay loft, he insists on taking breaks every hour that involve his head under my skirt.
I decide to go along with this, because I’m trying to prioritise a work-rest balance.
After lunch, I spend the afternoons sewing. I am totally fixated on the Singer. The day after he set it up, Alec took me into a nearby town, and I stocked up on thread bobbins and did another massive secondhand clothing haul. We moved the Singer to the guest room, and I got to work altering clothes.
I’m rusty. The first shirt I make from an old dress is wonky, with sleeves so puffy they make me look like an American footballer. But I persevere, and by the end of the week, I’m left with a heap of finished projects. I make a velvet jacket out of a rose-coloured dressing gown. I cut a pair of pink trousers into fifties-style tight capris, adding belt loops and cuffs. I transform lilac bedsheets into a flowy peasant top.
I’m obsessed. For the first time in years, I’m making things with my hands. I haven’t sewn this much since I was in uni, when my flatmate and I would make our own outfits for the clubs and show up to class sleep-deprived and covered in sequins.
When I lock in, I’m usually hunched over the sewing machine for hours. Time slips by without me noticing. Cameron calls it me “going to Summerland.” He’s usually the one who comes and drags me to the dining room for dinner. All four of us eat and drink together, talking about our days.
And then we go to bed.
The sex is unbelievable. I can’t get enough of it. Having three men sharing you, being utterly focused on getting you off, is overwhelming in the best possible way. The men take me in every position imaginable. In the bed. On the kitchen table. In the shower. Sometimes they share me, and sometimes it’s just one of them touching me while the other two watch.
One night, I take turns sucking them off, going back and forth, teasing them with my mouth and hands until Alec finally loses control and throws me onto the bed. The men each take me slowly, one at a time. I wake up the next morning with come leaking down my thighs.
A part of me thinks I shouldn’t enjoy being passed around like this. But I do. In fact, after all the hate I’ve gotten online, it feels like a relief to be surrounded by men who genuinely like me. The more they cherish me and lavish me with attention, the more I feel myself relaxing.
And it’s not just me. Alec seems less stressed. He takes time off in the evenings now, and he takes breaks to eat with the rest of us. The tension that was constantly simmering between him and Cameron has cooled, and Fraser has stopped looking at the two of them like a bomb might be about to go off. It’s all just…easy.
Which makes no sense. Logically, a four-way should be complicated, but we work so well as a unit. As the days melt into one another, I feel myself softening. I worry less about the viral video. I feel like I can take a full breath for the first time in years.
It’s almost like I belong here.
On the Friday evening, almost two weeks into my social media break, I’m curled up on the sofa with Crumpet asleep on my lap. She’s gained a lot of weight and is honestly a bit too heavy to be curled up on me, but I let her anyway. Alec is sitting at my side, the golden light of the fire highlighting his face as he taps at his laptop.
I watch him as he works. He’s been at this for almost four hours now, doing paperwork without a break. I remember how intimidating I found his hard focus when I first came to the farm. After learning about how he was raised, it all makes a lot more sense.
He was built to be like this. His father taught him as a child that his one job was to keep Lochview running, at the expense of everything else. No wonder he’s such a workaholic. He never had a choice.
The front door slams open, and I jump. Alec lays a soothing hand on my thigh, not looking up as Fraser slopes into the farmhouse with Scout trotting at his heels.
“Evening, kids!” he calls, hanging up his coat. “We finished early at the market.” He crosses over to the sofa and drapes something soft across my face. “Saw this on one of the stalls. Thought it looked like a bit of you.” He flops down at my side.
It’s a spool of pink silk ribbon. “Thank you! I love working with ribbon.”
Scout sits at Alec’s feet and stares at Crumpet watchfully. She blinks back at him from my lap. The sheepdog can’t seem to work out what he’s meant to do about her. At first, he tried herding her outside. When Alec kept stopping him, he then decided he must be Crumpet’s personal bodyguard. It’s very cute.
“Anyone down to come to the Dewdrop?” Fraser offers, gathering me against his side. “Cam’s up for it. I think we could all use a night out.” He gives Alec an arch look. “You should come. Isla misses you.”
“I have too much to do,” Alec murmurs, still typing. “You go without me.”
