Beyond Christmas (Corrupt Chaos MC #1.5)

by Bink Cummings

  “Are they…?” I point to the ceiling, my mouth agape.

  Whisky chuckles. “They sure are.”

  “Both of them and her? Isn’t she married? Aren’t they brothers?” I don’t know why this surprises me so much, but it does. I knew both of them were kinky … still, this goes beyond that.

  Whisky resumes wrapping one of her presents as she talks over Nat King Cole crooning O Come All Ye Faithful to us. Oh, the irony! “Yes, Penny and Michael are married. But, he’s aware of her tastes, just as she’s aware of his. When she came here today, she knew she was gonna fuck Bonez. I imagine, she feels Gunz being here, too, is a damn good bonus. And I’m pretty sure they’ve shared women before. Not sure how it works. I don’t ask, ‘cause it’s none of my business. But I think it’s more of Gunz and Bonez instructing the woman on how to please each of them separately.”

  “So they’re just gonna screw under your roof while we wrap presents?”

  “And drink Margaritas,” she quips, chuckling under her breath.

  It doesn’t take long for moans to filter downstairs, so Whisky turns up the music. I’m pretty sure she does that for my benefit. Just hearing them makes my cheeks flush with embarrassment. So to keep myself occupied, I focus on my wrapping and drinking as much alcohol as I can. It seems to work when my brain starts to become fuzzy and everything mellows. By the time I’ve hit my third refill, my wrapping turns to shit, but I couldn’t care less. The warmth fizzling through my body is purely amazing.

  Bridget and Fawn make their way back into the house and settle on the couch, drinking bottles of water. I have to blink several times to see them clearly. Hell, I’m really snockered.

  “They’re not done yet?!” Fawn yells over the music.

  Whisky uses a remote to turn it down, and the sounds of sex get louder. Never thought I’d have to listen to my best friend in the throes of passion, but now I have. And I must say he is one hell of a dirty talker. Woo wee, him telling Penny to, “Fuck him harder,” and “Take that dick down your throat,” is oddly sexy. Not that I would ever tell him that. So you can’t either, capisce?

  “They’ll be busy a while. Gunz is up there, too,” Whisky comments like she’s talking about the weather.

  How she can keep a straight face is beyond me. Sometimes, I wish I had her brass balls. Then, maybe, I wouldn’t blush so friggin much. Did I ever tell you that I hate blushing? No? Well, I do … All right, I should probably stop talking now. Who knows what might come out of my mouth next.

  On the carpet next to me, my phone vibrates. Today, Lachlan and his club brothers were goin’ shooting in the woods outside of our house. Didn’t think I’d hear from Lachlan ‘til later. Although, from the looks of my phone, he decided to text me now.

  How’s Whisky’s? You drunk? Ready for me to take advantage of ya?

  It’s fine. I’m almost there. Anytime, sweetheart.

  Fine and you don’t mix. What’s goin’ on?

  Bonez and Gunz are here with Penny. And I’m drinking a lot.

  Bloody hell.

  Yep, that about sums it up.

  They fuckin’?

  What do you think? I reply.

  Bloody hell! I’m comin’ to get ya.

  No, you’re not! I’m an adult. I can handle this just fine.

  Suddenly, my phone rings and I answer it.

  “I’m comin’ tae get ye. If I woulda known Bonez was gonna be there tae do this, I would have already,” Lachlan rumbles, breathing heavily into the receiver—getting angry.

  Exhausting a sigh, I toss a present to the side and stretch my legs out in front of me. All three of the girls have their eyes pinned on me. Evidently, they know I’m talking to Lachlan. Bridget even looks apologetic.

  “I don’t need ya to babysit me. I’m totally fine. Have fun with Cas and Sniper and whoever else. We are drinkin’ and having girl time. I’ll talk to you later when you have to come pick me up, because I’m too drunk to drive. Okay?”

  He growls into the phone. “I dinnae want tae leave ye there. I want ye home. I’m gonna bloody kill Bonez for thinkin’ aboot his cock and not ye.” The madder he keeps getting, the thicker his accent becomes. I almost missed half of what he just said. He’s got to calm down.

  “Stop! Chill out, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re the only person who has to worry about my feelings. He doesn’t. And it’s not a big deal.” Why won’t my broody badass just listen to me and get it through his thick skull?

  “I dinnae wanna stop. But, if ye want me tae give ye some time, I’ll give ye an hour tae finish. Then I’m comin’ tae pick ye up. Aye?”

  I guess that’s better than nothing. An hour will give me a little more time to sober up.

  “Okay,” I give in with a groan. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

  “Love ye.”

  “Love you, too.” I hang up before he convinces me to have him come now.

  Just as I lay my phone next to me, the moan of an enthusiastic release echoes through the living room.

  “Sounds like someone finished.” Bridget giggles, and I flash her a look of shock. I can’t believe she’d say that.

  “Any who…” I change the subject, pretending that I can’t hear Bonez instruct this woman to “Take my brother’s dick all the way in your ass, baby.” Which is quickly followed by a bellowing grunt, and a dainty moan. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Is that bedroom directly above us, or what?!

  “So, Fawn, I hear you’re in college and have a boyfriend,” I try to keep the conversation casual. I’m sure she’s been getting a good bit of hounding from her dad on the boyfriend front.

  Whisky clicks the music up a hair.

  “I’m going to school to be a nurse,” she says, running her fingers through her purple locks, reminding me so much of her father. “And, yes, I’m sure you’ve heard about my boyfriend. Dad is pissed about it. Sorry, I was kinda an asshole the other day. I’ve been having some issues with my boyfriend and Dad. It was getting to me that day—I’m not normally that much of a bitch.” She smiles contritely.

  Happy to see that I’m getting the real Fawn now. I push on. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Great, now I’m going all motherly on her just like I do Bridget. I just hope this doesn’t piss her off. I’m only trying to help.

  Fawn shrugs. “There’s not much to say. My boyfriend and I have been dating for six months. He’s going to art school. Was a drug abuser in his twenties and got sober two years ago. Now, he’s trying to get his life on track, but Dad just doesn’t care. We met at a tattoo party, where he gave me this tat.” She lifts her shirt, and stretches up so I can see a little bird with a cherry in its mouth riding on her hip. It’s not half bad. “He’s apprenticing for a tattoo shop right now. Learning how to ink, so I let him practice on me for free.” She slides her shirt back into place.

  “Do you think that’s wise?” Sheesh, I sound like my grams.

  She takes a swig of her water. “I think it’s fine. He fixes them if they look like hell, and I don’t let him put anything on me that I’m not going to like.”

  Fair enough.

  I nod my understanding. “So where’s he at now?”

  “With Dad and the guys at your place.”

  My body stiffens and I grab my phone to call Lachlan. Holy manhole! That doesn’t sound good.

  Whisky laughs, throwing another wrapped present under the tree. “Chill, Mags. They’re not gonna hurt the poor guy. Lach and Sniper wouldn’t allow that. I’m sure they’re just tryin’ to feel him out.”

  Releasing a breath, I drop my shoulders and try to relax. She’s right; they wouldn’t.

  I set my phone back.

  For the next hour, we carry on like girlfriends, gabbing about our men. Bridget chimes in about Cas from time to time, giving me an even clearer impression of her infatuation. Fawn doesn’t seem to care—either that or she’s too self-absorbed in her own family drama to pay attention. The moaning upstairs recedes for moments in time, only to return with ve
ngeance minutes later. The multiple climaxes and obsessive dirty talk turns to background noise as I focus on our conversations and wrapping the three tubs of Christmas presents.

  Soon, a knock resonates at the front door, and before Whisky can call for them to enter, it squeaks open. The sound of multiple men entering hushes us.

  Lachlan is the first to round the corner into the living room. “Hey, there, my lassies.” He waves before coming directly to me and offering me his hand. I accept it, and he yanks me to my feet and straight into his arms. Not wasting a second, his hot lips cover mine while his hands find my bottom. Shoving his tongue through my lips like a hungry beast, he ravishes me until I’m left panting and my pussy’s tingling with unspent desire.

  I rip my lips from his with force, knowing that if I don’t, we’ll be upstairs, too, making our own noises. He sets me down with a grin. “I missed ye,” he whispers and I smile, turning fifty shades of pink.

  Damn. He’s something … something … fricken amazing. We need to get home soon. My panties need to be changed and I could use a little tub time.

  Turning around to face the crowd, Lachlan wraps his arms around me from behind with his fingers splayed over my belly. His excitement twitches against my lower back.

  “Get over here, girls,” Cas orders playfully, coaxing Bridget to move over on the couch before dropping between her and Fawn. Hooking his arms around their necks he forces them to cuddle into his side. Loud and sloppily, he kisses their foreheads and Fawn laughs while Bridget squirms, her face turning crimson.

  Pushing his stomach, Bridget breaks away from Cas as quickly as she can and curls her knees to her chest, arms holding them there. Poor girl. We definitely need to have a Cas talk, and soon.

  Fawn's boyfriend enters the living room with Sniper and perches on the couch arm. “You have fun with the guys?” she asks him.

  “He didn’t get killed, so that’s all that should matter,” Cas teases and Fawn shoots him a glare, elbowing him in the ribs. He winces on contact and rubs his side. Serves the smart butt right.

  “He didnae know how tae shoot, so we taught him. He did fine. Na problems, Fawn,” Lachlan clarifies.

  “Thanks, Smoke.”

  “Yep.”

  Sniper sits next to Whisky on the carpet and pulls her into his lap. “Gunz and Bonez still upstairs?” he asks.

  “Yes; they’ve been quiet for the last ten minutes. I guess they’re worn out,” Whisky explains, nuzzling her nose against Snipers' neck and kissing him there.

  She’s probably right. That was quite the long spectacle. I’m sure they’re exhausted. I know I would be.

  My stomach goes wonky at the thought and Lachlan moves to my side, folding his fingers through mine. “That’s our cue tae leave ... Pip, I’m takin’ Mags home. If ye need a ride—”

  “I’ll take her,” Cas interrupts.

  Lachlan nods. “Aye. Ye do that.”

  Goodbyes are exchanged and I hug Whisky, thanking her for the invite.

  Just as Sniper and Lachlan carry my totes outside to Viola, the sated trio descends the stairs. I pay them no mind and exit the house without a goodbye. I’m not sure what I should say, anyhow.

  Lachlan places the totes in the backseat, then I fold into the passenger side. He leans in and kisses my cheek before rounding the hood and slipping behind the wheel.

  Sniper waves to us from the porch as we back out of the drive and I return the gesture.

  “So, are ye mad at Bonez for bein’ an arsehole?” Lachlan asks.

  I stare out of the side window. “No. I’m just not in the mood to have an awkward conversation. Looks like we got outta there just in time.”

  “Aye. We did. But, did ye get what ye needed to be done, done?”

  “Yes. All of your presents are wrapped.”

  “Does that mean I can get ye naked when we get home, and—” He gropes my boob over my shirt, and my nipples go instantly hard. Swallowing thickly, I stifle a moan. Jesus, I love when he touches me.

  “And … what?” I croak.

  Lachlan’s fingers find my bud and pinch lightly. Succumbing to the pleasure, I moan under my breath, arching my neck into the headrest. A rush of liquid desire shoots heat straight to my clit, making it throb. I cuff my hands over my knees and squeeze, trying to regain control. It helps a little.

  “And lick ye ‘til ye come,” he finishes on a growl.

  Yes! Yes! Yes! I’d love nothing more. I can’t wait to get home!

  His fingers roll my nipple again.

  Holy hell, I hope we make it in time!

  Rolling over in bed with my eyes still closed, I pat Lachlan’s spot and come up empty. Where in the world could my man have gone?

  I flop onto my back with a tired groan and stretch my muscles as I pry my eyes open. The alarm clock on the nightstand reads 8:47 a.m.

  Merry Christmas!

  It’s December twenty-fifth and my very first Christmas morning with Lachlan, but he’s bailed on me. What a butthead.

  Slipping out of bed, I pull on one of Lachlan’s t-shirts before exiting the bedroom, sans pants. The sounds of the house are disconcerting, ‘cause there are none. There’s no rock music blasting from the barn. No doggy feet padding through the house. No Bridget playing girly music in the basement, or watching TV. I knew not to expect her this morning; she went to her mother’s yesterday, and then spent the night at Cas’s with Fawn and her boyfriend. I wasn’t very happy about it. I wanted her home. Lachlan and I might have had a little tiff last night because of it, but that ended up like they always do—me under him, his dick hitting deep so I have no chance to argue. It works like a damn charm. He’s quite the manipulative Scot. Guess he’s lucky I love him. Naw … who am I kidding? I’m the lucky one here.

  I glance around the empty living room, then pad into the kitchen. There’s a plate on the table with a note and daisy next to it.

  I pluck the note to read first.

  Santa has left to run some errands. Took Rudolph along for the ride.

  Your to-do list. Please do in order.

  1. Turn on the CD player that’s on the counter.

  Turning around, I see the little boom box, so I follow these strange instructions and do as I’m told. I press the play button and Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas blares to life. Awe, I love this song.

  Smiling and going a little gooey inside, I read what’s next on the list.

  2. Go to the fridge to get your breakfast.

  Pivoting on my heel, I open the refrigerator. Inside, there’s a tray, and on it a note that says ‘Eat Me’.

  I giggle.

  Laying my to-do list atop the other note, I remove the tray and carry it to the table. Looks like I’ve got a bowl of Lucky Charms, a cup of milk for the cereal, and a tall glass of lemonade. Always with the lemonade. Lachlan’s too dang cute for his own good.

  3. Eat.

  Scooting out the chair, I take a seat and indulge in my extravagant Christmas breakfast. He’s not much of a chef, is he?

  Once finished, I put the dishes in the sink and read on.

  4. Go to the bathroom and do whatever it is you do. But, don’t bloody leave until I’ll Be Home for Christmas starts on the CD player. Then go to our Christmas tree and find the pickle ornament.

  Umm … Okay … At first, this was cute. Now, it’s getting a little weird. A pickle ornament? Who’s ever heard of such a thing? What in the world is it? Guess I’ll have to wait to find out.

  In the bathroom, I take a short dip in the tub before climbing out and drying off. With my towel still wrapped around me, I brush my teeth and comb through my hair. On the third pass with my hair brush, that damned song starts to filter through the house. So I set my brush on the counter and exit the bathroom in nothing but a towel. Instructions are instructions, so I follow them.

  Beside our beautiful tree that has unwrapped presents underneath, I raise to my tippy toes and circle it. High and low, I try to eye that stinking ornament. I come up short until I
look down at the very bottom branch on the backside, and there it is, a glass pickle hanging from a hook. And to make matters sillier, the darn thing is wearing a kilt and has googly eyes staring back at me. I remove it from the branch as I start to laugh and shake my head at the idiocy of it all. I can’t believe he wanted me to search for a—

  Wait…

  There’s a tiny scroll taped to its back. I peel the tape off carefully and unroll the paper.

  Merry Christmas, my leannan. Your extra present is under the tree, wrapped in gold paper. Open it.

  An extra present?! Ekkk.

  Butterflies start their jig in my belly.

  With one hand secured around the top of my towel, I rehang the pickle before kneeling. Shuffling through the presents, I rearrange them until I spot a single golden box at the very bottom of the pile. It’s complete with an oversized red bow.

  Clutching it in my hand, I stand and fawn over my little treasure. It’s just perfect. About the size of a necklace box. I wonder if it’s something to match the bracelet I wear every day?

  “Open it.” A familiar voice startles me and I nearly drop the present and my towel instantaneously. Expelling a tiny gasp as my heart leaps into my throat, I quickly right myself and spin around. Lachlan’s standing in the kitchen doorway, wearing only a kilt.

  “You scared the bejesus outta me,” I scold, catching my breath.

  Inclining his head, he gestures to the box and wades further into the room. “I didnae mean tae scare ye. Now open yer present…” His eyes rake my form, then he grins. It’s one of his mischievous ones. “I didnae think ye’d be in a towel.”

  I stick out my tongue. “Well, if you hadn’t given me specific instructions to come out when the song started, I would have gotten dressed beforehand. But I was nice enough to listen to them.”

  “Aye, ye did a fine job.”

  Haughtily, I jerk a nod. “Thank you. Now, what’s this?” I lift my present high, and he moves so he’s maybe six feet away. Up close without a shirt on, and me half naked, isn’t a good combination. I can’t stop staring at that chest hair. I can practically smell him from here. Mmmmm…