Page 132 of Overcast

“It’s Claire.” She points to herself, then giggles. “Wow, what are you doing here?”

“Hanging out with her boyfriends,” Mills fills in for her, lips hoisting in a mischievous grin. He rests an arm on the headrest of the couch and flicks his gaze down Claire’s body.

“Boyfriends?” she repeats with wider eyes. “Damn, Storm, how did you get so lucky?”

“I...” Didn’t. Did. It’s complicated.

“She literally had us busting the hinges off her front door just so we could get our hands on her,” Mills continues to add in.

I glance at Bishop for help, but he’s too busy overlooking the place. Then there’s Emric, but I’d rather not get knocked out of my serene phase right now.

“Damn,” Claire quips, promptly standing from Mills’ lap. “Then I shouldn’t be grinding on your man then.” I grin at how Mills’ face falls due to his own big mouth.

“It’s alright,” I consent. “I came to take them out for a good time.” Bishop lifts a brow, and Emric scoffs at my side. “You know what, you came at the perfect time.”

“I did?” Claire asks.

I cross my legs. “Absolutely. My man–” I point at Bishop. “—has been having a really rough week at work and could use the outlet.” I give her an innocent and genuine smile. “Would you mind?”

Claire peers over at said man who is glowering in my direction.

Serves him right for being an asshole all night. And, hey, I might not be wrong.

However, his menacing stare isn’t very inviting, but this “Shirley Temple” is making me withstand it with zero problem.

“Are you sure?” Claire’s voice sounds more timid and not as confident anymore as she pulls her face back to mine.

Too bad Bishop isn’t going to get to play broody I-hate-people tonight.

“Positive,” I deadpan.

“Stormi,” Emric warns next to me, more than likely wanting me to leave his buddy alone.

But we all don’t get what we want in this life and I sure as heck didn’t have an option to leave without them.

“Don’t worry, lover,” I quip, patting his thigh lightly but keeping my eyes averted. “I’ll make sure you get a turn.”

Claire holds out a hand for me. “C’mon. You can help me not get melted to the ground by your other man’s stare.”

I begin to rise from my spot, but Emric’s hand grips the back of my tee and hauls me back down.

He readjusts his body so that he’s close to my face as his palm gently cups my chin.

“If you grind on Bishop’s dick,” he leers, keeping his face complacent while his thumb brushes my flesh. “I’m going to go back to torturing you, sweetheart. Understand me?”

I nod because I understand.

But not because I’m necessarily going to listen.

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