CHAPTER EIGHT

MIRA

––––––––

I’m burning up.

The fever courses through me like wildfire, brutal, rampant. I’m dizzy, weirdly weak as I stagger past Daniel into the diner.

Christian sucked my finger.

No, he violated my finger in a way that has my body buzzing. My core is on fire. My panties are soaked through, rubbing uncomfortably against me with every step.

I shouldn’t have let him.

In the middle of the parking lot, in broad daylight with eyes everywhere, watching...

I did not give a shit. It felt so good, but...

I steal a glance in Daniel’s direction, at his set features as he keeps a protective arm hooked around my waist and scans the diner.

The silent diner.

The single room with at least a dozen people clustered around square tables, all paused in whatever they were doing to watch us walk in.

They seem confused, like they recognize the faces but are unsure from where. Some look downright dumbfounded.

The aggressive scrutiny has me pressing into Daniel’s side, comforted when his hold tightens.

“Chin up, sweetheart. Don’t let them see you flinch,” Christian murmurs into my ear, his touch hot and possessive against my back just above Daniel’s arm.

But I’m not afraid or self-conscious. I was surprised. Now, I’m annoyed.

“What the hell are they staring at?” I mutter, meeting each of the faces locked on ours with my own frown.

“We’re celebrities here in Jefferson,” Christian drawls with dark amusement. “But mostly they’re upset because I’ve fucked their daughters or wives, or both.” He says it loudly, with a grin he shoots me when voices rise across the room.

I don’t know if he’s being honest, but no one likes his bold claim. The hiss and scuffle as bodies shift in their seats makes me think he ruffled some feathers.

Good.

Fuck them.

I feel myself return Christian’s grin as Daniel leads us to a table.

It’s a corner booth between two walls of glass. There’s a little, metal box at the end that immediately makes me forget the gawking weirdos.

“A jukebox?” I squeak, excitement turning my voice high.

I dig into my purse, rifling for spare coins and only finding a pack of gum, my phone, a receipt for snacks I grabbed on the drive down, my paperback novel and a fistful of tampons.

I catch Daniel and Christian checking their pockets, but their palms come up empty as well.

“Sorry, baby. Next time.”

Deflated, I relent and slide into the booth. Daniel takes the spot next to me while Christian sits directly across from us. He immediately stretches out, extending his arms across the back and widening his knees.

Daniel drags me into him and kisses the side of my head.

We have barely been sitting a minute when a short, full woman with violently orange locks curled tight around her square face hobbles over twisting small fingers in her apron. Her closely set eyes the murky gray of old dishwater moves from Daniel to Christian. Thin, unpainted lips curl.

“My, if it isn’t Danny and Chris MacAllister as I live and breathe. Didn’t think I’d live to see the day you two would darken our doorsteps again.”

I don’t like her.

So far, this whole town is shit and I hate everyone, but she’s still smiling like seeing the boys is just the greatest thing while her voice drips with bile

“Hey Mabel,” Christian greets without batting an eye. His fingers drum on the back bench. “Didn’t think I’d live to see you still waiting tables seventeen years later and yet here we all are. Coffee, please.”

I don’t know whether to be horrified, amused or mortified by the smooth delivery.

Mabel is no longer smiling. Her face is doughy with splotches of crimson.

“I see the Devil still has his roots embedded deep in your soul.”

Christian purses his lips. “I call him Daddy now actually—”

“Christian!” Daniel hisses even while I’m struggling to contain my laughter. “Three coffees, please, Mabel. Thank you.”

Mabel must have realized she was playing a losing war because she snaps on her sensible shoes and marches off in a huff.

“What is wrong with you?” Daniel growls, keeping his voice low. “We’re only here a few days and we will need to come to town in that time. Stop pissing people off.”

Christian wrinkles his nose in a way that makes him appear boyish and cute. “I’ll tell Daddy to spank me later in penance.”

Daniel blows out a breath fraught with irritation, but doesn’t get the chance to respond when a tall, gorgeous man with thick, black dreads and a blindingly white smile appears at the end of the table. The gold beads in his thick mane clink as he swings his head from side to side, taking in each brother with deep, brown eyes.

“I could not believe my ears when they said you assholes were back in town.”

Christian leaps out of his seat and the two crash together in a violent collision of slapping hands against the other’s back.

“You son of a bitch!” Christian laughs, pulling back. “What the fuck are you still doing in this shithole?”

The man fixes his seven-million-watt smile on the other man. “Dad got sick. Took over the diner to help.” He shrugs enormous, bulging shoulders under the white, stained shirt barely concealing muscles no one man should be allowed. “He passed last year so I kept the place in his memory.”

The grins drop from both boys’ faces.

“Shit, man, I’m really sorry. Your dad was a really great guy.”

The man bobs his head once. “But enough about me. How have you been?” Those deep, dark pits find me and widen. “And who’s this angel?”

I blink and feel my face flush as he extends a giant palm. My tiny fingers vanish with the curling of his.

“Gunner, this is Mira. Mira, Gunner,” Daniel introduces. “We played ball all through high school. He was one of my closest friends.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say.

“And you. Mira is a beautiful name. Very fitting,” he adds with a sly grin that makes me giggle like an idiot.

“Easy,” Daniel mutters with warning in his eyes and a grin on his lips. “This one’s mine.”

My heart melts. I melt. I’m a gooey puddle of feelings I can’t process without wanting to giggle all over again.

That’s the second time he’s called me his. The second time he’s possessively staked his claim and I’m buzzing. Practically vibrating with love for this man.

The conversation has continued without me and I don’t catch the end until Gunner is waving goodbye and hurrying back into the kitchen.

“Well, at least we know no one’s going to spit in our food,” Christian says, dropping back into his seat.

Mabel claps over a few minutes later with a tray holding three steaming mugs and a small pile of menus. Everything is placed on the table with just enough harshness to convey her displeasure.

“I’ll be back for your orders,” she snips before vanishing over to a table nearby with a group of women who immediately made me think PTA, book club, bake sales.

They had that vibe, that catty aura of bitterness sprinkled with a heavy dose of valium and wine.

All heads pivot in our direction, a uniform motion that must have been rehearsed right down to the smirks I’m shot from all four faces.

I ignore them.

I’ve seen scarier women on the subway, and I don’t mean crazy scary. These women acted mean and tough because no one in their small, backwoods town would dare stand up to them. One hour in the city and these bitches would be crying in their cloud of hairspray. So, no, I’m not scared or intimidated, but if they don’t stop staring at Daniel and Christian like they’re something scraped off the bottoms of their designer pumps, I might go over there and stab them in the face with my fork.

“Okay?”

No, but I smile at Daniel. “Just need the washroom.”

Daniel slips out of the booth, and I quickly stand. My hands brush down my skirt before I start in the direction of the bathrooms feeling every eye in the place on me.

But I keep my head high and look at no one as I cross the room like I own it.

I really did have to go, but I need the time and space to calm down. I’m not usually a hot-tempered person, or someone ready to start a fight, but everything about this town has rubbed me the wrong way.

Never mind the weird Pleasantville vibe they have going on.

Never mind no town should be so ... clean, but the people.

That shit only happened in movies. Nowhere — nowhere — would people just stand around and do nothing in a situation like back at the Sheriff’s office. Normal human behavior prompted us to help, didn’t it?

But if the law enforcement in the town is the virus, the reason people don’t act in fear of retaliation ... they live here. I’m an outsider. They would have to face the consequences of their kindness.

I pause pulling my panties back up.

Maybe the town isn’t the problem.

I hit flush on the toilet and unlock the stall.

And freeze.

There’s a woman just standing on the other side. The brunette with the fat, red sash in her neatly coiffed locks. I’m momentarily distracted by how shiny it is despite the mediocre lighting in the room, but then I’m caught in her big, evil, blue eyes boring into my soul and wonder if she’s here to eat my face.

I’m almost convinced that’s the case when her full, red lips bow, parting slightly to reveal straight, white teeth.

“There are other toilets,” I mutter, disliking her arms crossed, hip popped stance.

I’ve seen too many of her kind at school. The pretty girls with the cruel smiles.

We’re not in school anymore.

I move past her to the sinks and slap one on. Over my shoulder, suburban Barbie continues to watch me through the mirror, our eyes lock as I wash my hands.

“Can I help you?” I say at last.

She waits until I have a wad of paper towels bunched in my damp fists to speak.

“I’m Clemence. Clemence Carr.”

I continue to eye her, waiting for her to continue, but she seems to have run out of batteries. Honestly, she seems to be searching my face like I’m supposed to know her.

Maybe she’s big on social media. Tough luck for her because I don’t have any. My phone is still set to the same factory setting as when Daniel gave it to me this past Christmas. Only his number is saved on it. Even the background is the same.

But that’s none of her business.

“Okay,” I say, pitching my towels into the trash bin. “That’s nice.”

I make to move around her, but she sidesteps into my path. I come up short.

Oh no she fucking didn’t.

“You better move before I forget how to use my words,” I warn her with clear warning.

“There’s no need to be hostile. I’m trying to help you.”

“My car warranty is fine. Thanks.”

She blocks me again when I try to dodge and I’m ready to punch her in the throat when she says, “I saw you came in with the MacAllister boys.”

I lose my patience. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with you fucking weirdos? Fuck off.”

Clemence gasps with a theatrical performance worthy of an Oscar . “You will not use the Lord’s name in—”

“Listen here, you creepy Stepford wife, whatever the hell you think you need to tell me, don’t.”

“Did you know their mother killed herself?”

I am so taken aback by the sheer, disgusting response that I can only stare at the bitch. Disbelieving my ears.

Clemence takes my bubbling fury for interest and promptly falls into her speech.

“She learned her sons were sick degenerates unloved by God and—”

I hit her.

The acoustics sing through the confined space. Her cry quickly follows as her manicured hands shoot up to clutch the scarlet handprint blazing against her cheek.

“I would be very careful what you say next,” I tell her, keeping my voice level even as my heart reacts to do it again.

Fire ignites behind Clemence’s watery eyes even as she straightens.

With her platform heels, she has a good four inches on me, but I will drag her ass to the ground if she talks about Christian or Daniel, or their mom again.

“Maybe you think it’s fine to protect a pair of murdering rapists, but here in Jefferson, we don’t take kindly to perverts who fornicate with their own blood.”

I hear everything she says. I process it quickly without letting any reaction show on my face. Refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing she got to me.

“Bullshit,” I mutter dryly. “Daniel is not a murderer. He’s literally a lawyer who puts murderers away. I would be very careful spreading lies. You’ll piss off the wrong person.”

Meaning me.

But I let the implication hang.

“They covered their tracks. Got away with it. But the man they killed was a beloved member of the community and there aren’t many people who are too happy to see the MacAllister boys back in town. You don’t have to believe me—”

“I don’t,” I snap.

She ignores me and goes on, “but have they told you why they left Jefferson?”

“Maybe because you’re all fucking crazy?”

Her smile dims while simultaneously sharpening. “I’m only trying to warn you. They’re not good people. They’re evil and vile. God’s forsaken them. That’s why their mother killed herself. The shame—”

My palm strikes out and claps the side of her head before I can even register the red haze of rage. The momentum drives her sideways. Her skull slams into the bathroom door with a resounding and rattling crack I feel sing through my soul like fine wine. She cries out, but I’m gripping a fistful of all that beautiful hair and squeezing her face into the wood as every muscle trembles, torn between shoving harder and restraint.

“I warned you. I will break your face if you ever talk about their mother again.” I add enough pressure to drive my point home. “Did you honestly think coming in here and bad mouthing the man I love would turn out in your favor?” I fist her hair harder, tearing out strands as the bitch squeals and carves deep, red welts into my hand with her bright, red nails. “I would commit unimaginable fucking crimes for him, Clemence. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

She’s making idiot whimpering noises that’s getting on my nerves, but she squeaks a yes.

I release her and step back.

She wobbles on her shiny, red pumps and stumbles back into the corner between the door and the wall like some traumatized rabbit. Her blue eyes are no longer smug. Her lips aren’t grinning like she means something special. She’s a blotchy, weeping little cunt staring at me with horror.

“Stay away from the MacAllisters, Clemence. Tell your backwoods, piece of shit town if I see one more person give them a single side eye, I will rip their fucking eyes out. Those two belong to me and I will happily skin and dismember anyone who hurts them.”

Closing my fingers into the silk blouse of her sleeve, I drag the bitch aside and storm out.

I have a split second to suck in a breath and calm myself when Daniel rounds the corner, soft, golden eyes creased in worry when he spots me.

“Mi?”

I slap on a smile and hurry to him. “Was I gone that long?”

He’s looking me over and I’m careful to keep my bleeding hand tucked behind my back. “No, we thought we heard a bang. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

The thought of telling him about Clemence comes and goes, and I let it slide as I hook my arm through his and let him lead me back towards the dining room.

But there is another issue nestled deep at the back of my mind, a seed hooking roots into my subconscious. I’d momentarily let it go in all the unnecessary commotion, but...

“Daniel?”

He pauses and glances down at me and that nagging little voice of guilt raises its head.

“Yeah?”

I suck in a breath, hoping it will calm the raging storm in my gut. “I’m sorry.”

I’m drawn against the solid wall of his chest. His large hand is a hot weight pinning the lower curve of my spine, keeping me in place as he lowers his head and bumps my nose with his.

My stomach pitches.

Well, okay then. Apparently, I need to apologize more often if this is my response.

“Why, baby?”

That delicious fragrance of his musky cologne invades my soul and I’m having a hard time recalling anything, except how badly I want to snort that scent off his entire body like coke.

“I ... for what I did ... with Christian...”

The fingers on his free hand tuck beneath my chin and my gaze is forcibly readjusted to meet his. “What did you do with Christian?”

I try to focus, try to recall if maybe it had been a fevered dream where Christian was sucking on my thumb after I wiped blood off his mouth.

“The parking lot...” I hazard, transfixed by the mouth he’s placed inches from mine.

A taunt.

“Ah, that.” Those delicious folds quirk up on one side. “You liked it.”

My cheeks flame even as my gaze shoots up to his and find them frighteningly even. Focused.

“I...” is all I can manage because I can’t lie and say I didn’t, but I can’t tell him I liked it ... a lot, either.

His free hand circles my throat. Captures my jaw. My face is tilted to his. My eyes are wide as tendrils of liquid arousal course through me to pool between my thighs.

“Daniel...”

His thumb presses into my lips. Presses past my lips. Between them. He hooks it against my tongue.

My own body takes over. A reflexive instinct. A drive to close my lips around the digit the way Christian had done to mine and suck. To show Daniel exactly what his brother had done to me.

“Is that what he did, baby girl?” he drawls slowly. Gruffly.

Breathing hard, I force my head to bob. “Yes.”

I swirl my tongue around the finger and stroke while bowing my chin forward just enough to take him deeper.

He groans softly, but I feel that rippling vibration straight to my toes. “You’re such a good girl,” he says deeply, darkly. With a weight that practically has the power to make me climax on the spot. “My perfect baby.”

God, I’m dying.

I need him with a vicious brutality that physically hurts. My pussy is a liquid mess of raw pain only he can soothe.

I whimper and he grins like he knows exactly the kind of torture he’s causing.

“You make me so fucking hard, Mira.”

My eyes widen with shock. Daniel never talks to me like this. He never willingly admits to the erections I know he gets. Only a few hours ago, he’d had me bent over the back of the sofa, the perfect angle to finally take advantage of me and the soaked pussy begging for his cock, but he hadn’t. Just like all the other times he hadn’t.

I don’t know what caused this change of mind, but I’m not complaining. Fuck breakfast. I want him to take me.

He must have sensed the words ready to leave my throat. The thumb in my mouth withdraws and smooths across my lips, smearing my saliva.

“No one else.”

“What?”

His fingers still wrapped around my jaw tightens. A firm acknowledgement of his power over me.

“Me. Christian. No one else.”

No. One. Else.

Meaning he’s okay with me and Christian? Is he implying he’s okay with me fucking his brother ... and him?

I grab his arm before he can start walking. “I don’t understand.” I should be mortified by the breathless quiver in my voice. I have bigger issues. “You want me ... with Christian?”

Daniel liquefies my brain with the ghost of his lips over mine. Not a kiss. Barely. A whisper.

“I liked it too, Mira.”

God, I can’t catch my breath. What the fuck is happening? Maybe I hit my head when Walton shoved me. Maybe this is some twisted Alice in Wonderland dream.

He gives me no further explanation but guides me to take the spot between him and Christian. The sliver of space. The crevice. It’s barely large enough to hold just the two of them. If I got in...

“We won’t fit,” I try to reason.

“We’ll fit,” Daniel growls, and something in the low rumble has heat washing through my core.

My thighs tremble awkwardly as I ease myself in next to Christian who makes no effort to scooch over. Every inch of naked skin that brushes the length of his thigh, bumps his arm prickles. It burns. But I have no room to move when Daniel slides in after me and wedges me in.

It’s already a warm day. The AC in the diner is doing its best. But no amount of cold air can soothe the scorching heat that washes over me, especially when Daniel grabs a fistful of my skirt and yanks the fabric out from beneath me.

My bare ass hits the cold plastic, and I squeak. I shift as goosebumps scatter up my body, tightening my nipples to hard, visible points.

“Does that feel better?” Daniel taunts into my ear, his expression mischievous.

My cheeks prickle as I realize his implication. “I was fine,” I lied.

I don’t tuck my dress back into place.

He hums softly and settles back with the menu in hand.

There’s another placed in front of me and Christian. I know I should probably look through it before Mabel comes back, but I am too overstimulated. I’m too aroused and crowded, drowning in two very different scents, and burning between two hard, solid bodies.

“You’re trembling,” Christian remarks, turning his body to one side, despite the lack of space to study me.

“I’m fine,” I try again, staring aggressively at the sandwich selection.

But all my overactive imagination can think of is the possibilities. The acts. In this seat, hidden by Daniel’s enormous frame, I could easily anchor my leg over his knee. Over Christian’s. Both. I could sit open and available between them. I could let them tease and toy with me the entire meal while I fight not to make a sound.

It’s so wrong and dirty. I shouldn’t want Daniel’s brother to tease my clit while Daniel pumps his fingers into my slick hole. I definitely shouldn’t want them both to hook their fingers inside and make me count to see how many they can fit before I cum.

Shit. I’m fucked in the head. Seriously. What’s wrong with me?

Still, the fantasy has my panties soaked. I’m squeezing my thighs together, but it’s doing nothing. I try to be discreet about it. Trying not to shift too much. The seat under me is no longer soothing the heat but fanning it.

And I think I might die if something doesn’t happen soon. If I don’t cum...

Daniel’s hand settles on my leg. Under my skirt. On my naked skin. High on my thigh. And the contact jolts through my system like an electric current. The area beneath his palm sizzles and tenses. My head jerks up, but he’s focused on the menu in his other hand, expression conveying nothing as he simply keeps his fingers clamped down on my flesh.

He gives a tug and parts my knees.

On my other side, Christian is watching him, watching his brother’s big hand sliding beneath my skirt to the wrist. His body is half turned, elbow on the table, bracing the chin he has resting on loosely bunched fingers. His unwavering scrutiny only amplifies the liquid heat collecting beneath my cheeks and against my opening. It makes my core pang with need so vicious my knees twitch to close, to rub and soothe the ache only to feel the warning flex of Daniel’s fingers squeezing the muscle.

“Open, Mira,” he murmurs in a deep, gruff voice that leaves no room for argument.

This is new.

Daniel has never touched me like this. He has never gone out of his way to torture me. I don’t know what to make of anything that’s been happening since we arrived at the diner, except I don’t want him to stop.

Tentatively, I relax my muscles. I let my knees fall open. It’s not very far. Barely enough at all, but there’s a sliver of space. An invitation that Daniel immediately finds.

“Wider, sweetheart,” Christian coaxes. “Don’t you want Daddy’s fingers inside your tight pussy?”

Lost in the sweet haze of blind desire that has isolated everything in the world, except the two demons urging me to sin, I’m desperate and throbbing. I’m so close to climaxing, I know it will take no more than a sweep of Daniel’s fingers to send me over. A flick. A nudge.

“Please,” I beg. “Please, Daniel.”

Christian sweeps back a lock of my hair. Smooths the pad of his thumb across my flushed cheek. “You heard her, big brother. It’s rude to keep a lady waiting.”

I fucking agree!

The menu in Daniel’s other hand is set aside as his fingers dip and curl between my legs. The tips circle high, high up inside the tender flesh of my inner thigh. They graze the elastic of my panties.

I barely catch the whine caught in my throat. I tear down on my bottom lip. My knee jerks and swings over the leg closest to me, giving him all the room to keep going.

That seems to be the invitation he’s been waiting for. Christian gives a harsh chuckle that mirrors the rough palm he slides up the limb draped over his leg, holding it ... holding me open for his brother.

His hand ghosts higher. Higher. He’s under my skirt too. It’s so close to my earlier fantasy, I sob and drop my head back against the bench. My eyes squeeze closed, an immediate regret when I am flooded with images of them breaching the thin, soaked barrier to slip through my juices and fill me together.

“Is your pussy a slippery mess, little brat? ” Christian groans against my ear. I hadn’t even heard him move.

“Yes,” I breathe. I open my eyes and find myself locked with Christian. His face is so close, and Daniel’s fingers are tracing the elastic. I need someone to... “Touch me.”

Everything about the grin that slips across Christian’s gorgeous features is predatory. Wolfish. He’s the creature in the dark waiting to eat little girls in their bed.

The latter thought almost makes me chuckle, except my captor opens his mouth and says, “You heard her, Danny.”

I don’t know what that means, but Daniel’s fingers tighten around my leg. He’s no longer toying with my panties. He’s not moving at all, but I can feel the need pulsing through him.

I try to turn my face, to tell him I meant him and Christian. That I wanted them both to touch me, but Christian captures my chin. His long fingers curl partially across my throat in a firm grip, and I’m forced to face him, forced to stare into the eyes of the man cupping my sex.

My eyes widen even as my body bucks into the possessive caress, the steady rock of his palm rubbing my pussy through my panties. I whine and gasp, and dig my nails into the edge of the table.

“Christian!”

Christian smirks at my agony. “What pretty noises you make. Let Daddy hear how pretty you sound when you cum on my fingers—”

Raised voices scatter the moment. Daniel and Christian drag their hands away from me. Christian tugs my skirt down around my trembling thighs and I struggle to sit like I wasn’t about to get fingered in the middle of the diner by two men as all heads turn to watch the remaining three Stepford wives clatter to their feet as Clemence finally exits the bathroom.

She definitely does not look pretty and polished anymore. Despite her obvious attempts to smooth down her hair and hide the fact that she’s been crying, she weaves over to her concerned flock.

They circle her, forming a protective barrier. A couple of them glance my way with icy accusation, but briefly. It’s the chilly, blue eyes of their leader that I lock gazes with. It takes effort not to show any reaction, but I keep the link until she looks away.

“Clem, what happened?” one keeps repeating on a tired loop that even Clem seems fed up with when she snatches up her purse and slings it on over her shoulder.

The four rush out of the diner on Clemence’s heels and the riot of bells over the door. I watch them teeter across the gravel to their gleaming vehicles where they stop at the hood of a bright, cherry red convertible. I am going to go on a limb and guess belongs to Clemence.

With them gone, the diner resumes with its low stream of conversation and the grind of metal radiating from the wobbly fan overhead. The coffee pot trickles and Mabel claps from table to table with her rag and sour expression.

“What did you do, naughty girl?”

I jump at Christian’s low murmur directly into my ear. I hide my flinch by grabbing the menu.

“Nothing.”

But the hand wielding the menu, the hand closest to Christian bears the truth and I’m not fast enough to stuff my scratches out of sight when he’s captured my wrist.

His rich, brown eyes never waver from my wide panicked ones when he drags the evidence in for a closer inspection.

I snatch it back and shoot him a sharp glower, warning him to shut his mouth if he knows what’s good for him; the last thing I need is for Daniel to get worried that I got a couple of scratches.

“Don’t,” I mouth, which only has the devil arching an eyebrow in amusement.

His tongue skims over his teeth, but I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Convince me.”