Page 43 of The Devils of Saint City

“Yeah, I knew what you meant.” Reaching over, he places his hand on my thigh far too close to my center. “Where’s your coffee?”

In the pot where it’s going to stay. I’m determined to have another night without an episode, which means steering clear of anything that might cause me stress. As much as I love coffee, that counts too. “I don’t want any.”

Manson watches me for a second before taking a sip of his own. “Why not? There’s enough for all three of us.”

“Oh, I know,” I say simply, but the suspicious look on his face doesn’t go away. I won’t be able to skirt around this. “Coffee makes me jittery sometimes. I don’t want to do anything today that’ll cause me additional stress or anxiety, because I’d really love another night without an episode.”

Understanding takes over his expression. “Ah, got it. Well you won’t be going to sleep for plenty of hours. May as well enjoy some in the morning.”

He squeezes my leg to encourage me to get up, and the tone tells me I may not have a choice. The remote is sitting right next to him.

A little reluctantly, I get up and pour myself half a cup and return to the couch, annoyed with his dumb smile and the way he grips my thigh again.

“Good girl. It’s good, right? You’ve been using the good creamer?”

“I don’t use creamer, I prefer it black unless it’s really shitty coffee.”

“Missing out,” he replies teasingly just as Asher groggily stumbles out of his room with his hair a mess.

“Are we late? What time is it?”

His words mumble together, making Manson laugh at him. “You have a clock in your room. Do you even know what year it is?”

“Fuck off,” he groans. “I need coffee.”

Once again, I push myself off the couch, this time to serve Asher before he goes ballistic on me. I get the coffee in his hands without making eye contact, then look around for something to clean. Something tells me my brother won’t be as forgiving of me just sitting around as Manson is.

“Our girl was trying to avoid coffee,” Manson snitches. “She’s worried it’ll make her have an episode later.”

Aside from a grunt into his mug, Ash doesn’t respond. I can feel his eyes on me though. “You didn’t finish your cup. Come sit with us.”

I have to do a double take to make sure I heard Ash correctly, and see if it was his voice I actually heard. He’s never told me to relax, yet the more I think about it, I know the real reason he’s telling me to drink more coffee.

While he was too tired and spent to do anything last night even if I had an episode, tonight will be different. He’ll see my avoidance as a sign of disobedience.

Looks like I’ll have to be sneakier about it.

With a fake smile, I join them on the couch and take a sip of my coffee to show them I’m playing along. Manson relaxes, but Asher eyes me skeptically over the rim of his mug. “After coffee, what’s for breakfast?”

“Scrambled eggs with ham, cheese, and bell peppers. I can make bacon or sausage as well, and I think we still have bread left for toast,” I say flatly. “I could also do pancakes instead.”

“No, that scramble sounds great. You gonna spit in it?”

I’m surprised he’s smiling over at me with the question he just asked, but he’s the only one joking.

I’d been planning on it.

“I wouldn’t waste the saliva.”

That makes them both laugh. Annoying.

“Yeah, save it for our cocks.”

Smiling slightly, I eye the bulge in Asher’s sweats. Maybe they’re just too stupid to realize that fucking all day will actually help me here, not hurt me. “Before or after breakfast? Both?”

“Definitely both,” Manson says, his gaze locked on Asher’s rapidly hardening cock like mine. “Go on. Give Ash a proper good morning.”

“And no touching yourself yet.”

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