God. I need lamb cuddles, stat.
I wander over to Crumpet’s pen. Viola is curled up in the centre with her two baby boys tucked up against her side. I check the corner, but Crumpet’s usual little pile of straw is gone. A bad feeling trickles down my spine.
I unlatch the gate and step inside, my footsteps softened by the hay. “Crumpet?” I whisper. “Where are you hiding?”
Viola looks up at me. I pat her head. “Viola, I’m sorry to disturb you, but can you move your bum, please?” I give her a little shove. Her boy lambs bleat in protest as she steps aside.
My heart stops as I stare at the spot she just vacated. There’s a dark-red stain on the floor. It’s definitely blood.
“How did that happen, hmm?” I ask Viola, fear running through me. Fraser’s words flash through my mind.
Hopefully, she’ll come to accept Crumpet as her own.
Worst case, she’ll get aggressive.
Oh my God.
I start frantically looking through the pen, sifting through the drifts of hay on the floor. “Crumpet? Where are you?” I search for almost a minute, until I finally upend a tiny pile of hay gathered up against the wall. There’s a white scrap buried underneath. It’s not moving.
“Crumpet!” I shout, scooping her out. Her little body is still and cold in my arms, and there’s a bloody scrape across her side,staining her soft coat. I can feel her heartbeat pounding weakly under my fingers. She doesn’t respond when I pick her up.
She needs help. Now. I unzip my coat, slip her gently inside, and stumble out of the pen.
I have to get Alec.
THIRTY-THREE
ALEC
After I finish cleaning up the broken shards of porcelain, I head slowly to my en suite and turn on the shower. I’m in a foul mood. My head is pounding with a tension headache, and my hands are hurting.
And worst of all, I’m hard as a rod.
As the water heats, I pull out my phone and set a five-minute timer, like usual. I don’t like to take too long in the shower. I have too much to do. I set the phone down and start unbuttoning my shirt, moving on autopilot.
All I can see is Summer on her hands and knees on my kitchen floor, bent over the broken mug.
I see her soft, smooth, freckled thighs.
I see the peep of her lace thong peeking out between her legs, the flash of sweet pink under the fabric. I grit my teeth as my balls ache with pressure.
I shouldn’t be thinking of her like this. She didn’t realise she was flashing me when she bent over. She was just trying to help. She’s always trying to help.
I finish undressing and get into the shower, letting hot water gush over my sore back and shoulders. Steam puffs around meas the temperature almost reaches scalding and pain lights up my skin. I don’t care. I like the sting. I need it. I feel hot all over.
I reach down and grip my dick, grimacing.
I shouldn’t be doing this. I’ve been awful to Summer the whole time she’s been here. And she’s sleeping with my best friends, for God’s sake.
But I can’t get her out of my head. Can’t stop thinking of her vanilla scent, and her glittery fingernails, and her sweet voice always saying sorry.I can’t afford to be distracted like this.I need to be able to think. I need to get her out of my system. The clock is ticking, there are animals outside that need checking, anything could go wrong at any moment, and it’s all on me?—
I can’t afford to lose focus. Terrible things happen when I do.
I start to stroke myself roughly. As I do, phantom sounds float through my ears. I remember the noises that filtered through my bedroom wall two nights ago. Moans. Cries. Whimpers.
Jesus Christ, how many times did Cameron and Fraser make her come? It felt like it went on forever.
How did she look when she climaxed? Did she shake? Gasp? The pressure in me tightens until I’m aching. I start pumping myself harder. I just need to get this out of me.
