Chapter 12
Twelve
Lacey
It feels like somebody took a wiffle ball bat to my vagina.
Probably to be expected, when I spent last night being unapologetically fucked by not one, but two very well-endowed men.
It was good, too.
Like, really good.
I’ve had one-night stands, of course. I enjoyed a pretty epic hoe phase in college and did the dating app thing for a while.
My attention has been on The Chestnut, though, and apart from two notable exceptions, those sexual encounters led to pretty varied levels of success in the “achieving orgasm” department.
Making me come wasn’t something Wells or August seemed to have a problem with.
Independently or as a group project. Both of them treated it like an outcome even more desirable than finishing themselves, and never once did it seem like they were doing me a favor by ensuring my needs were met before their own.
After our impromptu movie marathon, there was yet another round of epic sex, this time with me on my hands and knees while August fucked my mouth and Wells drilled into me from behind.
We all passed out shortly after finishing, and I woke up in a hot tangle of male bodies, with gray morning light shining through the crack in the curtains. Wells—who was using my back as a pillow—only grumbled when I slipped out of bed, limping to the bathroom in his flannel.
By the time I finished peeing, wiping cum from my inner thighs, washing my face, and running my damp fingers through my curls to revive them a little, both men were awake.
Wells was already in the process of zipping up his pants and barely glanced at me as I emerged from the bathroom while August was still bleary-eyed and tousle-haired, frowning at him from his place on the bed.
He got all tense and monosyllabic last night, too, but I was so sure we’d put him at ease. Before I could think what to say to bridge his dark mood, though, Wells is gone, muttering something about checking on the store as he strode from the room.
“Ouch.” I wince when the door slams behind him.
August offers me a gentle, reassuring smile as he sits up against the headboard. “It isn’t a commentary on you, or what happened between us. He gets overwhelmed, I think.” He sighs. “It seems some things don’t change.”
“It was a lot. I get it,” I assure him, even though getting it doesn’t save me from a sharp sting of rejection as I find my panties in a crumpled heap by the end of the bed.
From the corner of my eye, I see August watching me. “What are your plans? For the holiday?”
Gosh, it’s Christmas Eve, isn’t it? I’d completely forgotten in the wake of recent events.
“No plans,” I tell him once my panties are back in place and I’ve forced myself to stop pouting over Wells.
“My grandmother lives in Florida, and everyone goes down to see her. I’m not sad about taking a year off, though.
A few days of quiet is way better than watching my brother’s kids break family heirlooms for sport. ”
August chuckles. “Sounds… Eventful.”
“Oh, it always is.” I barely contain a shudder at the memory of last year. “Are you doing anything today? Or is all the family stuff going down tomorrow?”
“My brother and his wife just had a baby. It’s their first Christmas as a family, so I thought I would hang out today and make myself scarce tomorrow.”
I nibble on my bottom lip, watching as August pulls back the covers and stands with a stretch, totally naked, and apparently unbothered by his audience. Then again, if I was almost forty and looked like he did, I wouldn’t mind being ogled either.
Just for something to do with myself, I bend to pick up the boxer shorts on the floor, offering them up from the end of my finger. “I believe these are yours, Doctor Vogel?”
He strolls forward to accept them, a playful glint in his eyes. “They are. Thank you, Miss Lovette.” As he bends to put them on, however, his expression turns thoughtful. “You should come with me today.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “With you? To your brother’s house?”
“As a friend,” he clarifies calmly. “Considering your only other guest has fled the premises, I can’t imagine you have a lot of work to do.”
“Oh, there’s always work to do,” I assure him airily, even as butterflies have erupted in my stomach at the offer. “Don’t worry about me.”
August isn’t having my evasiveness, however.
Lifting his own brows, he steps forward, crowding me back into the desk.
“Come with me,” he offers again, more insistently now.
“It doesn’t have to be a big deal. I’m here to spend time with my family, but I don’t particularly like the idea of going anywhere without you or—” His words falter, and I know he was about to mention Wells.
Apparently determined to shake off the sticky moment, he smiles.
“You’ll like my sister-in-law. Come on, it’ll be fun. ”
Even as I open my mouth to tell him I couldn’t possibly impose, my second rejection to this offer gets caught in my throat.
“Okay.” I find myself agreeing, a little sheepishly.
“If you’re sure I won’t be in the way, and that they wouldn’t mind, and.
..” My words turn to a giggle at the exasperated face August gives me.
As I spent the night being vigorously fucked—and definitely look like it—I go back to my cottage to shower and change.
As I wash my hair and brush my teeth, I give myself a stern lecture on not reading into this visit, or to begin hoping anything could come out of this.
August is going back to California in a few days.
Between that and Wells’ disappearing act this morning, it’s fairly obvious I’m not about to become part of a throuple.
This is a short-term thing, and even if remembering that seems to put a puncture in the happy bubble that keeps inflating when I catch myself thinking about last night… yeah. I need to calm the hell down.
August is waiting in the lobby when I make it back to The Chestnut, dressed in a wool coat, gingham scarf, and hat pulled low over his ears. My heart flutters as he holds out a hand at the sight of me, his lips curving in a full, breathtaking smile.
I take it.
“You’re beautiful.” He gives my hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
“Is this okay? I wasn’t sure if they were casual, or…
” I wince, praying I’m not going to embarrass myself with my wardrobe choice of jeans and a sweater.
The last time I met the family of someone I was seeing, we’d been seeing each other for six months, not twelve hours, so I’d had sufficient time to overprepare, overthink, and annoy him with my questions.
August chuckles at this, tugging me toward the front door of The Chestnut. “If my parents were coming, I would suggest you go find something a little nicer. They’re abroad, though, so you’re in luck.”
As we step outside, however, it quickly becomes apparent it won’t be just us.
Wells’ truck is sitting in the parking spot closest to The Chestnut, and its owner has paused in the act of closing the door, his eyes zooming between me and August. “Hi,” he says cautiously, finally pushing it closed. “I, ah.” Words seem to be failing him, though, and he looks miserable.
“Hi,” I echo, offering him a tentative smile. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He steps toward us, his boots crunching over the packed-down snow on the edge of the parking lot. “I’m sorry I took off like that.” His eyes dart between us again. I’m guessing right about now, he’s wondering if he’s been cut out of… whatever this is.
August breaks the silence. “Lacey is coming with me to my brother’s place for brunch. You should join us.”
Wells lets out a choked laugh, as if the idea alone transcends belief. “Ah, I’m good. Thanks.”
“He’s going to bully you into it.” I smile at him conspiratorially. “I tried to say no, too. Now look.”
“No pressure,” August adds hurriedly. “It’s as friends. I’m not planning to fill my family in on what we did last night.”
My heart lifts as my gaze darts back and forth between them. Now that it’s becoming clear Wells hasn’t totally noped out, a very important question has appeared at the forefront of my consciousness: Is it going to happen again?
There is absolutely no point in pretending I don’t want it to. Not when August’s reminder of our activities has my aching internal muscles contracting automatically.
“Okay,” Wells replies at last. “This is the architect brother, right? The one who owns the place in the old bank by me? I think his wife comes in sometimes with your nieces.”
This mention of an additional family member has me frowning, because I could have sworn August mentioned they’d only just had their first baby. Before I can clarify, however, August chuckles.
“Right,” he confirms, and glancing at my bemused expression, he chuckles. “I should probably warn you, they’re traveling, so they won’t be there, but my brother has two daughters from a previous relationship. They’re about your age.”
“You’re making me feel old as fuck,” grumbles Wells, shaking his head. “Come on, it’s freezing out. You can fill her in on the way.”
We take Wells’ truck, because it’s already warm, and I sit between the guys on the bench seat, listening to August spill the Vogel family tea, which is considerably hotter than anything my own has to offer.
If I was worried what August’s brother and sister-in-law would think of me, especially if they found out our age difference, I really shouldn’t have been.
While I’m sure there are some elderly relatives who would be scandalized, I can’t imagine we would shock them any more than his older brother did when he married his daughter’s best friend.
I’m practically giddy by the time we arrive at their stunning, mid-century modern home, climbing onto the snowy driveway with nothing but excitement to shake the hand of a woman who pulled off such a feat.
Sophie does not disappoint.
She welcomes us in with a big smile, not at all fazed by the strangers invading her home on Christmas Eve. We follow her into the living room, where her husband Bram—who is almost as hot as his little brother—is arranging the meticulously wrapped gifts beneath the Christmas tree.
We’ve barely managed introductions when the baby monitor goes off.
“Come on,” Sophie tells me, rolling her eyes at the men, who have become absorbed in a very intense discussion on some local zoning issue. “I’ll show you the nursery.”
I follow her upstairs and through the last doorway at the end of the hall, which is beautifully decorated in warm shades of pink and gold. The highlight is definitely the cherub of a baby she plucks from the crib, who is squishy and rosy-cheeked from her nap.
“Hi, sweet girl,” Sophie coos, adjusting the baby’s head so she can see me. “This is our new friend, Lacey.”
The baby yawns.
I melt.
“So, any particular reason my brother-in-law decided to bring you along today?” asks Sophie innocently as I dangle a toy above her daughter’s face to distract her from the diaper change underway.
I feel myself flush. “We’re just friends,” I assure her, echoing August’s explanation from when we arrived. Sophie shoots me a dubious look as she puts the baby—who I learned is named Clara—back into her snowflake-dotted pajamas. “Okay, so not platonic friends.”
“Ha!” she gloats. “Called it. He totally gets the same post-sex face as Bram. I wasn’t positive if you were here with him or Wells, but—” Sophie’s statement falters at what must be a very incriminating look on my face. Her mouth falls open. “No.”
A squeak of alarm escapes from between my lips. “What?” I ask, playing dumb with absolutely no success.
“Both of them?” Sophie gasps, apparently delighted as she lifts Clara back into her arms. “Girl. I’m so impressed right now. I want to be you when I grow up.”
I splutter. “It’s nothing!”
“Here, take the baby,” she tells me firmly, and my heart leaps into my throat as she transfers Clara into my arms. “If you walk downstairs right now and both those men don’t look like they want to get you pregnant, I’ll accept that explanation.”
I only make it halfway down the stairs before it’s clear we are not going to pass Sophie’s test.