Page 48 of The Unexpected

“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper. “I love the taste of my ass on your finger, and even more when it’s on your cock. Give me more.”

Lachlan lets out a choked chuckle, and then kisses my forehead, gentle, and the contrast almost makes me cry.

We sit there, the three of us, in the ugly light of Patsy’s, breathing hard and grinning like idiots.

Finally, Hunter tosses a wad of twenties on the table, stands, and holds out a hand. Lachlan does the same, and I take both, letting them pull me out of the booth and into the sharp, cold light of the day.

Outside, the air is so bright it hurts, but I don’t care. All I can think about is getting back to the apartment, to the safety of their arms, and being used again, and again, until I forget my own name.

We walk the three blocks in a silence thick with promise, and the world around us is nothing but backdrop, a meaningless blur.

Nothing matters except this: the three of us, alone, insatiable.

And the knowledge that soon, I’ll be getting more

16

ESTABLISHING RULES

Stella

It’s been two weeks since Thomas and Andie left for vacation, which means two weeks of me, Hunter, and Lachlan fucking like animals all over the mansion. It’s true. After that breakfast where we discussed boundaries and protection, Lachlan moved into the mansion with me and Hunter and the two men have been giving me constant workouts. It’s wonderful though, and I was so happy when my dad texted me to say that they were extending their vacation for another two weeks. To be honest, I think he and Andie are trying to get pregnant, and why not? Andie’s young and fertile, and I know my dad would welcome another child. Maybe not a naughty kid like me, but a sweet, innocent baby that he can raise as an upright and moralistic woman.

But I’m upright in my own way. I’m still working my job, despite being fucked around the clock by Hunter and Lachlan. Thus, I’m back at Nicollete, peddling high-end designer clothes to bored ladies who lunch. Fortunately, it’s time for my fifteen minute break, and I disappear into the back. Chloe’s three minutes behind me, but already she moves fast, her nose wrinkling at the faint tang of burnt espresso and bleach as she shuts the door.

“Jesus, Stella, you look like death on clearance.” She drops her bag with a slap and props herself against the shelf, arms folded. Her phone is already out, screen flicking with nervous energy. “Not to be dramatic, but it’s true. Didn’t you sleep?”

I do a mock yawn, then actually yawn. “I slept. Maybe an hour.” My voice is a croak, throat raw from the morning rush and, if I’m honest, other things. My hands are unsteady as I wrap them around the cardboard cup, its contents black, the temperature already below optimal. I blow on it, barely feeling the heat. I can feel Chloe’s gaze on my face, dissecting the disaster zone: undereye concealer losing ground, hair scraped back in a slapdash bun, lips bare because I didn’t have the will to fake it.

She narrows her eyes at me, then at the cup, and then makes a show of sniffing the air. “You been stress-drinking again?”

I smile, just enough to show teeth. “Or I was up all night getting railed by my uncle. Take your pick.”

Chloe doesn’t miss a beat. “Can’t it be both?”

“It was both,” I admit, and even I can’t tell if I’m joking.

She’s on me in a second. “Wait. Are you serious? About the uncle thing?”

I give her a level stare, then gesture at my face. “I already told you all about my step-uncle! He’s hot! Besides, do I look like I’m kidding?”

Chloe blinks, her entire body recalibrating. She sets her phone down, takes the opposite aluminum stool, and leans in so close I can smell the vanilla in her conditioner.

“Tell. Me. Everything, girlfriend. This is just too good to be true.”

I glance at the door, make sure it’s fully latched, then take a gulp of coffee just to buy a second. “Well, like I mentioned before, he’s not my biological uncle. He’s my dad’s stepbrother, and we’ve been going at it like animals ever since my dad and his girlfriend left for vacation. But it gets even better: it’s not just my uncle anymore,” I say, voice hushed. “There’s also my pastor.”

Her mouth opens. Nothing comes out. It’s so rare for Chloe to be speechless that I have to savor it for a second.

“Stella,” she says, as if trying out the name on a new species, “you are, actually, my hero. You’re sleeping with two men, oh my god! And one of them’s a man of the cloth! Seriously, kudos girlfriend. Only you could pull this off.”

I wave my hand, the gesture queenly. “Yes, thank you very much. And I want to clarify. When I say two men, I don’t mean one after the other. I mean, we’re together at the same time, simultaneously.”

Her eyes go wide, whites bright as LEDs. “You mean—” she doesn’t even finish the sentence. Instead, she claps her hands over her mouth, then slowly drags them down, leaving pink lines on her cheeks. “Oh my god.”

“It’s not as slutty as it sounds,” I mutter, but even I can’t keep a straight face.

Chloe leans in even closer, if possible, her words a conspiratorial whisper. “Was it…?”