The sash comes off, and Tobias tosses it aside as the two of them reach up with perfectly coordinated movements and push the robe down my shoulders.
“Glasses off,” Tobias murmurs against my clavicle, reaching up and plucking them off my face. He sets them reverently aside before returning his mouth to my skin. Meanwhile, Micah curls his fingers beneath my chin and takes my lips for his own, using his right palm to cover his brother's left.
They push me back into the futon as I wrap one arm around the back of each of their necks, fingers tickling that spiky red-orange hair of theirs. I've got identical twins on either side of me! I think with a little internal squeal, biting my lip as they both move down my chest and toward the bindings on my breasts. Two fit, tall, gorgeous, rich, funny … I cut myself off, so the list of adjectives doesn't get too ridiculous, but come on? How is this not every girl's dream?
“Lesson four: stop thinking so hard,” Micah chastises, reaching up and pulling off the little metal pin I use to keep the bindings taut. He flicks it aside and then pulls the first layer off, letting Tobias tug from the other side. I lift my back so the cotton strip can slide more easily underneath me, and then giggle as Tobias tosses the end to his brother, and they start the process over again.
“I was only thinking about you two,” I say, coming to my own defense as my breasts are finally exposed to the cool air, nipples taut and pink. I'm breathing just a little too fast, a little too hard.
“Shush,” Tobias whispers, cupping my left breast in a warm palm. “Let us take care of you.” He puts his mouth over my nipple, shattering my self-control to pieces. His hand slides down my belly, underneath my panties, and cups the wetness between my thighs that promises I'm most definitely not a boy. No, I'm a secret girl, with my ruthless boys … my forever crew.
A sigh slips from my lips as Micah mimics his brother’s movements on my other side, kissing my right breast, and then slipping his hand down to join Tobias’.
In the distance, I can hear the shouts of the other Adamson students enjoying the hot springs, but I don't care. We're in our own little bubble in here, and I'm loving it too much to care about any possible consequences.
The boys tease me, slicking fingers across my aching body while they use their mouths on my breasts, collarbone, and neck, taking turns capturing my lips. A shocked gasp escapes me when they both put a single finger in, using that incredible unity they share to their advantage.
“You're so fucking tight, Chuck,” Micah whispers in my ear while on the other side, Tobias says, “Your lips taste like candy, Chuck.” Just a little sneak peek into their personalities, similar, but different enough that I couldn't imagine giving up either.
My hands drop down, searching for the hard, warm shaft of each twin, fingers curling around their identical bodies.
“Oh, I see how it is,” Micah whispers, thrusting into my grip as he bites my ear. Tobias tries to push my hand away, but I won't let him, taking a firmer grip on his body and working him until he's doing the same thing as his twin.
“Condoms,” I murmur, and Tobias scrambles up to grab them, coming back over with two packages in his hand. He flicks one at Micah, hitting him in the chest, and then proceeds to put his own on.
Micah moves his hand away from the hot warmth between my thighs as I grab Tobias by the hair and bring his mouth down to mine for a kiss. While we're kissing, Micah slides my panties down my legs and tosses them aside.
“C’mere, Chuck,” Tobias whispers, pulling me toward him and smoothing my hair back as he grins. “Do you know how many dirty, rotten things I want to do to you right now?”
“Um, I can take a wild guess based on how many dirty, rotten things I want to do right back to you,” I murmur as he slides one of his legs between mine. He takes my mouth again, maneuvering his body between my thighs and pressing me down into the futon with his weight.
“However many things that is,” Micah whispers, lying down beside me and licking the shell of my ear. “Double it.”
His twin chuckles, reaching down to cup my ass with one hand and keeping himself propped up with the other. With the shadows from the dancing candle flame, Tobias’ face takes on a sharp edge, making him look more like Micah. Our gazes meet and he thrusts in deep, groaning and kneading my ass with strong fingers. The moans escaping my own lips are verging on the edge of a scream, but I've already had a door kicked down on me once mid-coitus. Not happening again, not when my dad’s wandering around the grounds in a mood.
Tobias rolls onto his back with me on top as Micah carefully slides his hand over my mouth to shush me, chuckling against the back of my neck.
“How dirty do you want to get, Chuck?” he whispers, kneeling behind me and reaching between me and Tobias to find my clit with his other hand. He works me slowly, kissing my throat, and then finally releasing my mouth when I seem to have my breathing under control. “Do you want to go a little further?”
“Micah …” Tobias warns, but his own breathing is uneven, and he's not fully in control of himself, setting his hands on my hips.
“How … dirty can we get?” I ask, and the boys exchange a brief look.
“Stand up,” Micah tells me, and I balk. We’ve only just gotten started and I’m not ready for this to be over. But at a nod from Tobias, I take Micah’s hand and stand, letting him turn me around by the shoulders. Gently, he pushes me back down and Tobias helps angle himself to enter me again. With a groan, I sink down, facing toward Tobias’ legs instead of his face. When Micah stands up at the edge of the futon and puts the heavy weight of his cock near my lips, I know where we’re going with this.
My fingers curl around the base of his shaft, and I slowly, carefully put my mouth around him.
For a first-time blow job, I don’t feel like I do too shabby.
Tobias’ fingers squeeze my hips, urging me to move my pelvis while at the same time, Micah gently encourages me with soft fingers in my hair. The former twin is the first to reach his climax, shuddering beneath me, his moans in chorus with his brother’s. After he finishes, he stays right where he is, leaving me to work my clit with my fingers and continue using my mouth on Micah.
“I’m close,” he warns, massaging my scalp. “Do you want me to move?”
I pull back slightly and shake my head before continuing, enjoying the way his breathing speeds up just before he finishes. His fingers tighten against my scalp, and I can tell he’s struggling not to thrust, letting me control the interaction. But he wants to. And maybe, one day, I’ll let him get just a little more intense.
“Holy crap, Chuck, you’re hardcore,” Micah says as I swallow, my own body panting and shaking with need. I’m a bit impressed with myself for taking such a leap, but I’ll have to wait for some good girlfriend time with Monica to high five her, smirk, and be all I swallowed, first time, you know.
Carefully, Micah and Tobias lay me down on the futon between them and use their hands to bring me my own orgasm, carefully covering my mouth when I get a little too loud.
Afterward, we stay there together, all cuddled up, each boy with one leg over my own, and we drink plum wine and saké until the single red candle burns its way out.
There aren’t a lot of perfect moments in life, but this, this is one of them.
“I take it you've all made up?” Spencer asks, turquoise eyes taking the three of us in as we move up the single step to the wooden walkway that runs along the side of the main lodge building. He's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, dressed in the same navy-blue yukata from earlier. A cocksure smirk rests on his face, but I can see the smallest hint of jealousy glittering in his beautiful gaze. He does, however, do an admirable job of controlling it.
“If you can call it that,” Micah says, lips splitting into a naughty little grin. He slouches against one of the columns, all boneless and languid. Both twins have this look of pure male satisfaction on their faces that makes me want to be contrary. I flick Tobias in the nipple just for good
measure and he chuckles at me.
“Huh.” Spencer pushes off the wall and comes to stand in front of me, putting his hands on either side of my face. When he leans down and kisses me, my tired body comes back to vibrant, arduous life. Ugh, at least girls don't have, like, refractory periods, you know? And by refractory periods, I mean that annoying time after dudes come where they can't get hard again. Come to think of it, it's almost like teenage boys don't have refractory periods either …
Spencer smiles at me as he pulls back, and then nods his chin in the direction of the dining room. “Figured I'd give you some sugar before I let you know that your dad’s on the warpath.”
“Um, and why is he on the warpath?” I venture, my lips still tingling from our kiss. Spencer drops his hands into his pockets and grimaces slightly before reaching one up to run his fingers through his silver-ash hair.
“The twins texted to let us know you were safe, but when your dad started asking, I just said you were on a nature walk … for the last six hours.”
“We've been gone for six hours?!” I choke out, glancing over my shoulder at the darkening sky. There are strings of paper lanterns lit for the evening, as well as an array of decorative torches to ward off mosquitoes. “Crap, shit, fuck.” I chew my bottom lip and wonder if I can't fit in a quick shower before I—
Oh, nope, wait, there he is.
Storming toward me.
Face is … that funny purple-red color.
My mouth twitches.
“Char—” Dad catches himself, grits his teeth, and stops just a few feet from me. “Chuck Carson, where the hell have you been all day?” Wow. For Dad to use even a minor curse word must mean he's truly pissed off. Since he rarely shows much emotion, this is kind of a big deal. “And if you lie to me right here and now, not even your fake engagement to Mr. Montague is going to save you.”
“Excuse me,” Church says, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. I shiver, but also have to hold back a smile when I see him and Ranger waiting behind me, their faces severe, a pair of matching frowns in place. They've most definitely got my back, huh? Literally, in this case. “No offense intended, Headmaster Carson, but I really wish you wouldn't demean the validity of our relationship.”
A group of students passes us by, whispering and snickering. Of course Mark Grandam is part of the crowd, sneering in our direction. My father’s just essentially outed my engagement to Church to the whole school.
Archie’s nostrils flare and his hands curl into fists by his sides. Is this it, the moment he finally snaps? I wonder. It might be hard to understand why, exactly, I’d want my father to go into a rage, but it’s actually pretty simple. He rarely shows much emotion, so little that at times I wonder if he truly cares about me. But if he got mad, then I’d actually get to see that he has feelings, that he does love me.
Instead, he closes his eyes and reins it in, making my chest feel tight and my eyes sting.
“The twins and I stole some plum wine and saké from the restaurant, and drank it in a utility shed,” I say, looking him straight in the eye. If he can’t be honest about his own feelings, then why should I? “But the twins also slipped an extra hundred onto the counter to compensate the owner. We’re sorry we did it.”
“You’re stealing alcohol and drinking in secret now?” Archie grinds out, looking at the two McCarthy boys like he’d truly enjoy wringing their necks. He turns his blue-eyed gaze back to me, clearly struggling with what to do, how to handle me. I'm at that questionable age that straddles childhood and adulthood. Archie wants to fall back on old habits and order me around, but he can't do that anymore. He'll have to use that admittedly intelligent mind of his to find a workaround. “How am I supposed to respond to that?”
“How do you want to respond to it?” I ask, enjoying the shield of protection my engagement to Church is granting me. I keep my voice calm, and for once in my life, I hold my temper in as Archie struggles to grab onto his.
He just stares back at me, surrounded by the Student Council, and then he snaps.
For the first time in his fucking life, Archibald Carson loses it.
He reaches out and snags me by the upper arm in a tight grip, making me cry out.
“No.” That one word from Ranger, booming like a thundercloud. He steps between us, breaking my father's grip on me. “I won't allow you to touch her like that.”
“Mr. Woodruff,” Dad barks, but there must be something in Ranger's face that deters him from pressing much further. “You kids don't know what you're messing with,” he hisses out, a flash of pain crossing his features. It only lasts a split-second before it's gone, and I'm left wondering if I imagined it. “If you think I'm going to stand back and watch while you drink and … and …”
“Make love?” I question, and Dad flips his lid.
“Chuck Carson, you are asking to be shipped off to a military academy. Do you think I can't arrange that? Montagues or no, I am still your father, and until you're eighteen, you belong to me.”
“Okay, boomer,” I say, and this stillness settles over our little group. Dad's eyes darken and he steps back. Maybe that wasn't the best way to respond to him, but I'm getting tired of being yelled at, tired of the lies, and the secrets. Dad knows something, I can tell. Why else would he know what we're messing with? He withheld the information about Spencer and Eugene when he knew I was breaking. So why should I offer him any apologies or excuses right now? “There was a dead kid in those woods. There were people in fox masks. And Eugene Mathers did not hang himself. We all know those are facts. If you don't want to tell me anymore than that, fine, but don't expect me to rearrange my whole life to accommodate your needs.”
A long moment of silence follows my statement.
“Jason Lambert is missing,” Dad says, looking right at me, his face cooling to an impassive stone mask. “There are going to be hourly room checks tonight, and every night until this trip is over—maybe even after that. You might not want to listen to your father, but if you disobey your headmaster, I can and will expel you from this school.”
Archie turns away, leaving me there with an outer calm, and a broken, shattered heart.
“He’s serious about that, isn’t he?” I whisper, and it’s Church that glances my way first.
“I have a bad feeling that he is.”
Slowly, almost in a daze, I move over to my now-dry yukata, hanging on the clothesline, and pull the abandoned note from Mr. Murphy out of the pocket. As I’d expected, the ink’s run, and only one word is still readable.
“Run,” I whisper, just before the wind snatches it away and blows the note over the garden wall and into the dark woods beyond.
I throw my bags down on my new bed, the one that sits opposite Church Montague’s. I've been moved (more like kicked out) from the headmaster’s house to here, as his roommate. Spencer, Ranger, and Church got written up for switching rooms without permission, proving right out the gate that my dad is serious about his threats.
“You want to play a game with engagement? Fine. You can bunk with your future husband.”
That’s pretty much the only thing he’s said to me since I okay, boomer’d him at the hot springs.
“Make yourself at home,” Church says, lounging on his own bed, already dressed in his striped pajamas, the top fully buttoned to his throat, as per usual. He taps his long, elegant fingers on the surface of his bedspread as he watches me. “And don’t forget that tomorrow, you should wear the ring.”
“Are you sure about that?” I ask, flicking my gaze in the direction of the nightstand where the little velvet box sits. “Mark gossiping on social media is one thing, but do you really want to make this official?” I turn back to look at the Student Council President as he rises from the bed, unfolding that long, lean form of his in front of me.
“Are you ashamed?” he asks, reaching out to stroke some of my hair away from my forehead. “About being engaged to me?”
“Me?!” I choke out, lifting a brow and trying not
to tremble under that blindingly brilliant amber gaze of his. “I figured you were the one who’d be ashamed. Wouldn’t you be better off marrying some heiress or something?”
Church smirks and moves away from me, leaning down to pick up one of the boxes from the floor and setting it on my bed. The top flaps are open, leaving a clear view of the contents inside. On the very top, there’s a female Adamson uniform zipped up in a plastic garment bag. Church lifts it out and examines the navy blazer and plaid skirt inside. It's a junior’s uniform; starting Monday, seniors have to wear champagne colored jackets and blue ties, lucky us! The fact that the new uniforms were late has been yet another stressor on Archie’s plate. Spencer said his mom—who’s on the school board herself—told him some of the other members aren’t pleased with my father’s performance.
I finger the edge of the plastic garment bag and sigh. Dad bought this uniform for me last year and had it waiting in the hotel room the day we were supposed to fly out, like he thought I'd be excited about it or something.
After I'd finished throwing a fit about living in Connecticut, I demanded a boy's uniform, cut off all my hair, and well … the rest is history.
“This may come out as arrogant,” Church says, and I cock a brow, crossing my arms over my chest.
“May come out as arrogant? Well, since most of the things you say are peppered with arrogance, I'm just going to assume that it's bad.” I nod my chin and then gesture up at him. “Alright, go ahead and say it. Come on, Churchie.”
“Churchie?” he asks, laying my abandoned girl's uniform out on the bed and stepping back to examine it. “Interesting choice of nickname.” He lifts his honeyed gaze up to mine and smirks. “But considering you're my fiancée, I'll let you call me whatever you want.” Church turns my way and crosses his arms over his own chest, mimicking my stubborn pose. “You asked if I'd be better off marrying an heiress.”
“Yeah?” I prompt, feeling a tiny bead of sweat work its way down my spine. I'm nervous right now. Why am I nervous? I mean, this is just Church Montague, President of Adamson All-Boys Academy, and prince of the school, the richest person in Connecticut, and my future fake-husband. Hah. Hahahaha. Nothing at all to be nervous about.
The Forever Crew Page 6
