Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Quinn
It’s a shame I’m forced to skip the appetizer and salad, but my disappointment is all but forgotten when the servers begin wheeling out the entrees.
My mouth waters when the chicken curry slides in front of me, but my gaze moves to Desmond further down.
My dinner will taste even better once I’ve watched him gobble Aven’s jizz.
My heart sinks as a plate of curry is placed in front of him. He tucks right in and starts eating without question, but there is no parsley on top of his dish.
Aven catches my eye, and we share a mental question: Where is the Cum Curry?
There’s no time to consider anything as Eve’s voice punches through my mental panic. “I didn’t know curry was on the menu. How do I get a plate of that?”
“It’s what Aven and I prepared so that I wouldn’t get sick,” I say. “I’m not sure there was any left.”
“And you let him have some?” She pops her thumb toward Desmond.
The server stops and leans closer. “There were two more plates in the back. I could bring one out for you if you’d like.”
Fuck.
“I’d love that, thanks.” Eve passes the lamb back to the server.
I have to find a way to deter her from eating the curry.
With the gusto of a malnourished dog, I start shoveling my food into my mouth.
“God, it’s so spicy that I’ll have to eat it fast,” I say as rice tumbles out of my mouth.
“I’ll be shitting fire for days after this. Are you sure you want to eat it?”
“As unappetizing as you’re making it look, yeah,” she says.
I stop shoveling. “It’s not very good.”
“Hey!” Aven says. “That’s my ma’s recipe, and I’ll have you know it’s the best fucking curry I’ve ever tasted. And I’ve been to India.”
“That’s all I needed to hear,” Eve says.
I pin Aven with a glare, and he realizes what’s going on.
“This isn’t my best batch, though,” he mutters.
But she won’t be swayed. She even claps her hands and does a happy dance when the server places the dish in front of her. Meanwhile, I’m hyperventilating because I recognize that wilted sprig of parsley on top of the plate.
The world seems to move in slow motion as Eve grips the fork and dips it into the sauce.
Before she can raise the utensil to her mouth, I knock it out of her hand and pull the plate in front of me.
It isn’t my proudest moment, but I start shoveling rice, curry, and Aven’s essence into my fucking pie hole.
With my hands, no less. I’m the picture of a maniac as I moan and groan and smack like a piece of shit.
“Sorry, I lied. It’s the best curry I’ve ever had. I just wanted a little more to myself, and I was almost done with my plate.” I keep shoveling, unable to look up for fear of all the eyes on me.
The server hurries off, and I don’t stop eating until Eve has another plate in front of her.
She places a protective arm around her food. “I don’t like to fight, but I will where my food is concerned. Don’t pull that shit again,” she says.
Fuck, she’s pissed. And as I look around, I realize everyone is pretty annoyed by my presence right now. I’ll have to explain this to the others so that they don’t hate me. I guess it’s impossible to avoid being the one they talk about at the next retreat.
I want to cry as I wipe my hands on the napkin. For someone who wants nothing more than to fit in, I have a bad habit of ending up on the outside looking in.
“It’s my fault,” Aven says, though he only speaks loud enough for the immediate group to hear.
My head pops up. Surely he isn’t about to tell them what we just did.
I planned to tell the girls, but I also planned to spin it in a way that isn’t quite the truth.
I was going to say Aven sneezed on that one, and that’s why the parsley was there.
They don’t need to know that he sneezed with his dick.
“We put extra hot peppers in that one. It was meant for Desmond,” Aven whispers. “Quinn just didn’t want you to end up shitting lava for the next few days.”
Eve’s anger dissipates, and she laughs. The sound eases my worry almost completely. “Why didn’t you just say so? I would have eaten it anyway, but at least I wouldn’t have been cussing you out in my head.”
“I panicked,” I say, and it’s the fucking truth.
The tension eases, and everyone has a good laugh about the misunderstanding.
Everyone but me. As I try to enjoy the rest of my meal, I can’t stop thinking about the copious amount of sperm currently swimming in my stomach.
Rationally, I know they’ve long stopped moving, but that doesn’t stop my mind from filling with images of my entire gut filled with semen.
It wasn’t that much come, Quinn. Chill.
My stomach tenses, and I gag internally. Fuck this dinner. Can we cut to the circus, please?
Then I remember what’s to come, and my stomach lurches for a different reason.
Now that I’m getting closer to Aven, it might be best to say goodbye to Green Guy.
Hopefully, our upcoming encounter helps me make up my mind.
I can’t keep spreading my heart between two men, no matter how much I enjoy spreading my legs for both of them.
I love reading a good Why-Choose, but I don’t want to be part of one in my real life.
No, tonight I’ll need to have a difficult conversation, and I’m not looking forward to it.
The lights dim in the circus tent as the first act prepares to begin. A ringmaster steps into the center ring and tips his top hat toward us. As he straightens, I realize it’s Jim. He raises his arm, and Kenny flies to him from offstage.
“Welcome, welcome,” Jim says into a glittering silver microphone.
Kenny flies off his arm with a loud squawk and returns to the offstage area.
“That’s probably best,” Jim says with a laugh. “We’re about helping the animals, not causing more trauma. But speaking of trauma, who wants to see someone get their bones broken?”
The crowd cheers, and even Aven claps his hands.
“Then look no further than the Slaughter Park circus, where the only way to earn a spot on our staff roster is to survive the show!”
Jim spreads his arms as two flame towers explode behind him in a show of sparks and heat.
Loud organ music blares through the speakers as staff scurry around and set up a trapeze act behind him.
He walks in front of them as they work, telling us all about what we’ll see tonight: death-inducing acts versus death-defying acts.
He also explains that anyone who survives will be offered a position at his animal sanctuary on Devil Horn Island, where they can remain for the rest of their days, paying penance for the abuses they’ve enacted.
I’m a bit disheartened to hear this, as I don’t believe any of these people deserve a second chance, but then I see that the staff aren’t wheeling a safety net into the ring. They’re wheeling in a bed of spikes.
“Oh, this is going to get bloody,” Aven whispers. “Maybe we should have sat in the splash zone.”
“We can probably arrange a splash zone of a different variety this evening,” I whisper back. “That’s if you have anything left in the tank.”
The low growl he offers goes right between my legs.
Speaking of the space between my legs, it’s seeing more attention than it has in a long time.
Well, from other people. Again, plural, and that’s what’s making me feel like a complete slut.
I just rubbed one out with Aven, and now I’m planning to fuck Green Guy.
I shouldn’t also be planning to screw with Aven again on the same night.
But that’s exactly what I’m thinking of doing.
If I can fuck them both, I can make a decision. After that, it’s all smooth sailing. No more worrying that I’m cheating. No more difficult conversations. Just sex with a man who makes me feel something.
Man. Singular.
Jim’s voice pulls me back to the event as he motions toward the trapeze and regales us with facts about dizzying heights and the survivability of landing on those spikes. I’m pleased to learn they’ll suffer for quite a while, but that death is all but certain.
The spotlight clicks off, and a dark silence falls over the tent. The moment is broken when the cries of the terrified Cattle break through. Seconds later, the spotlight clicks on, and “Stars and Stripes Forever” drowns out the whimpering.
Jim is no longer in the ring, and two Cattle stand on either side of the towering platforms overheard—two women and two men. Glittery yellow leotards brand them all. One of the men steps forward and grips the trapeze with quivering hands as he inches to the edge of the platform.
I start clapping to the beat, and I’m thrilled when the girls join in. Before long, the excitement spreads, and everyone is clapping with glee.
The Cattle screams and steps off. I expect him to swing, and I think he expected that too, because he looks shocked as his grip slips. Down he goes. A metal spike drives straight through his abdomen, skewering him in place.
Up above, the remaining Cattle try to scramble down the ladders. The fire pyres blast off again, right beneath them, and all three scramble upward again. A brief argument ensues before a gunshot snaps them back to their senses.
“Remember the animals? Now you’re in their shoes. Your only chance to survive is to perform,” Jim’s voice booms through the speakers. “Any other option is certain death.”
The remaining man on the platform grips the trapeze again. He says something to the woman behind him, and she nods. With that, he steps off the platform.
This man maintains his grip and swings fully to the other side.
He yells something at the woman on the opposite platform as his feet level with her face, but she shakes her head and takes a step back.
On the second swing, this repeats. On the third swing, he catches her platform with his feet and manages to remain steady enough to stay standing.
Without releasing the trapeze, he plants his foot in her chest and sends her to the ground.