Chapter 57 #3
“Hey,” Mason greeted, avoiding looking at me now. “Need to talk to you.” He nodded to Micah.
Micah turned his face towards mine again. “Change into comfortable clothes and rent a movie. We’ll come back in a few minutes to watch it with you. Yeah?”
I nodded.
We?
He was inviting Mason?
I shuffled upstairs to change, then went back over to the couch and grabbed the remote, plopping myself on the center cushion and tucking my feet up on the seat.
My tears were still drying on my face and my chest still held lingering threads of tightness, but my mind was entirely calm.
Numb, maybe. Empty. There wasn’t a good way to put into words how it felt to have my emotions physically taken from me.
Micah said I could rent a movie, so I assumed that meant he didn’t care if it was on his subscription streaming services—which he had many of.
Despite literally never watching TV. I landed on The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, pressing the button to rent it.
His card was already inputted so it went through right away.
Such a simple thing that I’d never had the privilege to do. No more illegal streaming sites with a trillion pop-up windows.
I left the movie paused on the opening scene while I waited for Mason and Micah to be done talking about whatever they were talking about.
Mysterious angel business that didn’t involve me.
I constantly cycled between caring and not caring about the fact that I still somehow seemed to know nothing about either of them. How was that even possible?
Sometimes it felt like there was some deeper game that they were playing with each other, and I’d never been shown the rules. I was simply a piece to be shoved around on the board. Picked up and placed down to gain an advantage.
What was the endgame? How much time was left in the hourglass?
I wasn’t stupid enough to think that my current life was actually sustainable—I just didn’t know what it would look like once everything crumbled to dust. Micah would leave me, or Mason would kill me, or I’d have the sort of mental breakdown that my brain would never recover from.
No matter what, I wasn’t walking away in one piece.
Strangely, that notion didn’t bother me much.
My feet were propped on the coffee table when Mason and Micah came back into the room some number of minutes later. Micah flicked off the lights, bathing the room in semi-darkness, everything tinted with blue. It was starting to get late.
Mason sat on the couch on my right side, a healthy distance between us, and Micah sat on my left, arm around my shoulders. I tucked my feet up on the cushion.
“What did you choose?” Micah asked.
“Texas Chain Saw Massacre.”
“Nice. I haven’t seen it.”
Mason didn’t speak and I didn’t look at him.
The movie started playing and I snuggled closer to Micah’s side, feeling his warmth seep through my clothes. He grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch then draped it over me. It started to rain lightly, the sound of the drops on the windows mixing with the sound of the movie.
But despite all the noise, it felt too quiet in the room. There was a tension sitting in the air, hanging on every silent exhale, swelling to fill the absence of our voices.
I moved against Micah and he shifted so I could half-lay on him, his arm draped over my chest and my legs bent carelessly up on the couch. When I stretched my legs, my heel brushed against Mason’s thigh. He didn’t move away.
Neither did I.
My eyes stayed locked on the glowing screen but my heart was skipping beats.
It started raining harder, water streaming down the glass against the backdrop of falling nighttime.
Micah turned up the volume on the TV to combat the noise of the rain, then strengthened his hold on me, palm pressed against my ribs, fingers creeping around my waist. A current tightened through the room.
Unsustainable. A ticking time-bomb.
Slowly, Mason circled his fingers around my ankle and pulled my foot onto his lap. My eyes nervously flicked over to his face, but he hadn’t looked away from the screen. I pretended to watch the movie as Mason’s thumb pressed into my sole, massaging me.
I had no idea if Micah could see what he was doing, had no idea if he cared.
My breathing was shallow.
Micah adjusted his arm, sliding his touch down to my lower stomach, desperate heat following his path, building in my veins.
I swallowed my moan when Mason started working the arch of my foot.
I wanted to squirm, to whine and pout, to take all my clothes off and let both of them mess with me under the flickering light of the movie I’d long since stopped paying attention to.
My toes brushed against the hardening ridge of Mason’s erection and he sucked in a sharp breath, grabbing my foot harder. I didn’t want to stop.
I was almost certain Micah had noticed my foot in Mason’s lap now, the way he was inching his fingers underneath the waistband of my shorts. But he said nothing. His fingers slid lower, lower. I pushed the ball of my foot against Mason’s cock, wriggling my toes as Micah breached my underwear.
All my thoughts were fuzzy and deliriously needy and I wasn’t sure if Micah had any influence over that or not.
Mason put his palm over the back of my foot, keeping me held to him, pressing my foot harder against his cock.
I arched my hips up, feeling my shirt ride up to expose a strip of my stomach, moving my foot a little, up and down.
Micah shoved his hand further down, cupping my bare pussy like he owned me.
I bit my lower lip to stop from whimpering.
Micah’s middle finger stroked lightly through the slickness at my entrance and my breath hitched.
Abruptly, Mason shoved my foot off his lap and stood up, muttering something about going upstairs.
He walked in front of the TV and his cock was so obviously hard in his pants I knew he hadn’t done a thing to hide it before standing.
My stomach clenched with a foreign combination of disappointment that he was leaving and arousal because of what’d just almost happened.
I kind of hated him for being as blatant as he was.
Whether or not Micah had seen Mason’s erection, he didn’t stop what he was doing, sinking a finger inside of me now. I let my thighs fall apart, leaning back against him, moaning softly.
“So needy,” he murmured. “So soft.”