Page 34 of Better Watch Out

“Swallow it,” Fletcher murmurs against my ear. And inexplicably, I close my mouth and do exactly what he says. “Good girl.” He licks at my cheek, cleaning up the rest of my face as I whine and squirm against him.

It’s becoming a problem with how much I like being calledgood girl. An embarrassing one that I’d rather take to my grave than admit.

“Good girls get rewarded. And you know he loves to watch you lose it.” Without waiting for me to reply or process his words, Fletcher tugs me backward, forcing me to lose my balance and fall against him. He’s quick to force my legs apart, his grip a warning to keep them there, before he spreads my pussy with his fingers so Boone’s view isn’t impeded whatsoever.

It feels like I’m on display. Like he’s doing this more for Boone’s pleasure than mine, and a tremble ripples up my spine. The feeling isn’t a bad one. Especially when he shoves three fingers into me, fucking me hard on them and dragging a needy whine from my lips.

“Fletcher…” I pant writhing on his lap. “Please, Fletch?—”

“I won't make you wait,” the blond promises. “Come whenever you want to, princess. Come on, be a good girl for me and for Boone. I know you can.” His words shove me towards the edge, and when he adjusts so he can swirl his thumb over my clit, any semblance of control I have left shatters.

I cry out and lean my head back on Fletcher’s shoulder, my hips bucking into his hand while he fingers me. I can hear Boone talking, praising me with filthy words and promises, but with my blood pounding in my ears it’s too hard to really hear anything.

Finally, though, my heart stops racing while I’m leaning on Fletcher’s shoulder, still breathing heavily while I stare up at the ceiling. “If…if this is Boone’s present, mine had better be legendary,” I murmur in a hoarse, tired voice.

“Oh yeah? And what would make your present legendary, princess?” Already Fletcher is unwinding the lights, and Boone sinks to his knees in front of me to run his hands over my skin, his warmth making me relax.

“Ask me when my brain works.” That’s the best I’ve got for now, while my head spins and my heart races for the two people that it really,reallyshouldn’t.

I hate them. I just have to remember that.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

This time, I don’t bother being nice and wiggling out from under Boone without waking him up. I wake up with all of us on the couch, my head on Fletcher’s thigh and Boone curled around me with his body against the back of the thankfully-wide couch.

“Move,” I mutter, elbowing him in the stomach. He groans and pulls away from me, and I sit up to look around the room, eyes bleary and sore all over. When I look down, I can still see the fading marks from the Christmas lights that had been wrapped around me.

My eyes land on Fletcher, who’s naturally already awake, but he doesn’t say anything as I get to my feet, crossing my arms over my chest and trying to pretend I don’t feel incredibly vulnerable without clothes on around them. I shouldn’t. Ireallyshouldn’t considering how much they’ve seen me naked.

“Feel okay, princess?” he murmurs sleepily, a yawn forcing his jaws wide. “You don’t have to get up yet. It’s only seven or so.”

“I’m…” I tip my head one way, then the other. “Restless.” It’s hard for me to admit, but I only shrug at my own explanation. “Also, I hate you both.”

“Sure,” he agrees, moving to drag Boone into his lap, the sleepy man readjusting with a murmur of approval and nosing at Fletcher’s jaw. “You hate us all you want, Conor. We’ll be here when you want to talk about it.” He’s so pleased with himself that it makes me want to grind my teeth, but instead I quickly snatch my clothes off the floor and retreat to my room once more.

Which is quickly starting to feel like my one safe haven from them in this house. So far whenever I’m in there, they’ve left me alone for the most part. It’s nice of them, I suppose?—

Boone’s long, low moan nearly makes me trip, and I look over my shoulder to see he’s now straddling Fletcher’s thighs, his face pressed to his shoulder while Fletcher says something that makes him whine a needy, wanting noise.

Even though I’m sore and worn out, I can’t help stopping to watch them. Just for a few seconds. They’re gorgeous together, like two contrasting deities representing dark anddarker, all wrapped up in the most beautiful packages and designed to make anyone doubt their monstrous natures.

The perfect camouflage for the worst predators.

Before Boone can look up I keep walking, letting Sitka out from the kitchen and leading her into my room. As offended as she was earlier, she hops up on my bed and flops down with a huff to stare at me, her tail wiggling slowly against the comforter.

“Yeah, it’s not how I expected this trip to go either,” I tell her, heading to my duffel bag and grabbing a black hoodie and pair of running shorts. It’s warm in the house, though not oppressively so, and if I’m staying inside like I want, I’d much rather walk around in shorts and drag a blanket with me in case of getting cold. Not only that, but I’m hoping we can get the fireplace working today, and I’ll be sitting close enough that the possibility of getting overheated is high.

Just as I sit down on the bed, my phone vibrates, making me jump when it becomes obvious I’ve accidentally sat right on it. Rolling onto my side I grab it and slide the call button absently, not bothering to look at the caller ID. After all, there are only a few people it could be, with my small friend circle and smaller family.

“Hello?” I ask, the word accompanied by a tired sigh. I’m still tired, having slept not-so-great even with Boone curled around me and Fletcher running his fingers through my hair. But I don’t blame them. I don’t sleep well anymore, and that has nothing to do with them.

“Hey hon!”My dad sounds chipper as hell, and I can’t decide if it’s authentic or put-on to try to keep the mood light. “How are things going up there?”

“Umm…” I roll onto my back to stare up at my ceiling, alert for any sounds from the living room. While I’m sure Dad won’t be able to hear anything from that far away, I can maybe admit to myself that I’m curious to hear those sounds for myself. After all, it’s already pretty clear I’m just as fucked up as Boone and Fletcher, judging by my lack of resistance to them taking things further last night.

Cutting that thought off hard, I refocus on the conversation Dad clearly wants to have. “It’s fine, I guess.” That’s the best I can do, and I watch Sitka worm her way up the bed, head coming to rest on my shoulder. “This isn’t exactly how I thought I’d be spending Christmas.” I can’t help my reproachful tone of voice, or the resentment I feel toward Dad for his deception and not being able to come up here.

Sure, this could be going a lot worse. But it’s still not what I was told would be the case. Dad lying to me isstilla lie. Even if he hadn’t meant anything bad by it.

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