Brielle gives me a small nod. She gets it. But the look on Eden’s face hasn’t softened—disapproval carved into every line.
“And before you go full judge-and-jury,” I add, “just because you and Derek have the blandest sex life this side of a retirement home—per your own admission—doesn’t mean I have to keep mine vanilla.”
That shuts her up.
“Ugh, fine. I guess I walked right into that one,” she says.
The server returns, perfect timing, balancing a tray of drinks with practiced ease. “Here you go, ladies.”
She sets the glasses down one by one with a polite nod, her eyes skimming the table. “Anyone planning to order from the kitchen? The blackened shrimp flatbread is our best seller.”
Marissa shakes her head, grinning. “Only drinks tonight. We’re here for the drama, not the carbs.”
“Fair enough. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit. Give me a wave if you change your mind.” She turns, weaving back toward the bar.
“I want to hear about this mystery guy,” Brielle says.
Callum. His face, the Mississippi drawl, that ruthless smile as he fucked Jon David’s mouth—it’s etched in my mind. I can’t unsee it.
“We drove to Mississippi, middle of bumfuck nowhere. The house was massive. Old money, Southern charm, all that. And the guy? Hot. Like stupid hot. Way hotter than Jon David, if I’m being honest. The kind of man who makes your ovaries tingle before he even says a word. Charming as hell. Polite. Total Southern gentleman, right down to the slow drawl and killer smile. And alsosinister as fuck.”
Marissa’s brow dips. “Sinister how?”
“That part’s coming.”
I pause and take a long swig of bourbon, the burn sliding low through my chest. I’m going to need it to get through the rest.
“The three of us sat down to go over the rules and boundaries. What I was and wasn’t comfortable doing. That’s when the wheels came off. Callum, that’s his name, started asking questions. Not curious questions. Checklist porn script questions. How I felt about anal, double penetration, sucking one of them off while the other fucked me from behind.”
Eden chokes on her drink.
“But the real kicker was when he asked me how I felt about watching him and Jon David.”
Marissa’s voice drops. “Watch him and Jon David do what?”
“Fuck,” I say flatly. “Each other.”
Marissa recoils, her expression a mix of horror and fascination. “Laurette… what the helly?”
“I know.” My fingers clench around the glass. “I got the ick so fast. I didn’t sign up to be background noise while they fucked each other.”
Brielle’s lip curls. “Jesus, that went from porn fantasy to third wheel real quick.”
“One hundred percent. The more we talked, the more it felt wrong. Like I was being pulled into something without the whole story. They kept brushing me off, saying I should relax and have a drink.”
Eden’s eyes are wide with understanding. “They were gaslighting you. Making you doubt your own instincts.”
I nod once. “That’s exactly how it was.”
Marissa shifts closer, hooked. “Okay, so what happened next?”
I breathe in slowly, going back to that night. “Jon David handed me a whiskey. He said it would help me relax. I drank it. Then… nothing. Totally blacked out.”
Silence swallows the table.
“I woke up on the couch, fully dressed with the lights off. The house was dead silent. No Jon David or Callum. Just me. Alone.”
The tension stretches tight between us, a thin wire straining, seconds from snapping. They’re all holding their breath, bracing for the drop.
