THE MORNING AFTER, PART TWO #2
My legs are still weak. Every step here, I felt the burn.
There was a patch of bulging sidewalk outside Patsy’s that looked treacherous, but I crossed it without a hitch, my focus split between the dull throb in my crotch and the low electric pulse that lives in my ass now, a permanent souvenir of last night.
The men flank me, one hand each at my elbow, and the walk is a slow-motion parade of what-the-fuck-are-they-doing, every morning jogger and postal worker and old guy in a camo parka gawping as we passed.
Now, in the antiseptic glare of Patsy’s, it’s impossible to pretend last night was a dream.
I have slight hickeys just barely hidden by the collar of the trench coat; my knees are scuffed, my lips still taste faintly of bleach and sin.
Most of all, it’s the possession. I know I look like a woman who’s been claimed ruthlessly by two ravenous alpha males, and that they’re here with me now, flanking me on each side.
No one says a thing for the first three minutes. We drink coffee, black for Hunter and Lachlan, but I dump so many sugar packets in mine that the sludge at the bottom could fuel a diabetic coma.
“Are you aiming for a sugar rush?” Lachlan asks with humor in his voice.
“No, I just need calories,” I retort. “You guys wore me out last night!”
Hunter grins but then lowers his voice.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice pitched low. His blue eyes are so clear they look backlit. “I know we were a little rough with you last night. Okay, a lot rough.”
I want to bristle, but he’s not wrong. Instead, I just laugh, a soft, broken thing. “Yeah. I got hit by a truck driven by two maniacs. Or two trucks, if we’re nitpicking.”
Lachlan smiles at that, teeth flashing. He stirs his coffee, doesn’t drink. “So you’re not okay? We got a little carried away.”
It’s the first time I’ve seen him look even a tiny bit uncertain, and the sight makes my chest clench up. I set my mug down, steeple my fingers, and meet his eyes.
“I’m fine,” I say. “I’ve never been better. I mean, I’m a little sore, but that’s what I wanted. So no one needs to call 9-1-1.”
Both men relax. I see Hunter’s shoulders drop, the tension easing. He glances at Lachlan, and it’s not hostile, more like a brief detente. Last night, they were rivals, then co-conspirators, and now—what? Teammates? I don’t have a word for it yet. Maybe there isn’t one.
Barb comes back with three plates: a mountain of hash browns, two eggs with crispy edges, a stack of pancakes taller than my face.
She slings the dishes onto the table without breaking stride, and for a second, I wonder how many fucked-out love triangles she’s seen in this town.
Judging from her deadpan expression, probably a lot.
We eat in silence for a while, until most of the hash browns are gone. I mop up a run of yolk with toast, rip it in half, and pop it into my mouth. Both men devour the food like hungry wolves while also watching me, eyes hooded and intent.
Finally, Hunter clears his throat. “I want to make something clear, sweetheart,” he says, voice like gravel.
“I know last night was rough for you and you did great. But we’re not going to push you into anything you don’t want.
That’s not what I want, nor what he wants,” he says with a meaningful look at the blond man.
Lachlan nods, folding his hands on the table. “Your comfort is the only thing that matters to us. If you want to stop, we stop. If you’re too sore, just say so. If you need a break, it’s not a problem.”
I blink at them, a little stunned by the earnestness. I feel a flush creep up my chest, hot and prickling under the shirt. “Jesus. You guys are making it sound like I’m a hostage.”
Hunter cracks a smile. “Pretty sure you were the aggressor last night, star girl. You damn near broke my wrist with how hard you were pulling me in.”
Lachlan grins. “And you left bruises on me, not the other way around.”
I laugh, and it comes out as a half-hearted snort. “Okay, okay. I get it. We’re all responsible adults here, but I want to assure you that I’m fine. I loved every second of it, and maybe rough is my deal. I don’t know. I’ve never done this before, so we’ll find out.”
For a beat, we just sit, the moment awkward but not uncomfortable.
I take a breath, pick up my mug, and stare at the black surface for a moment. “But can I ask something?” I say, quietly. “It’s important.”
Hunter leans in. “Anything.”
I exhale. “It’s about protection. I’m not on the pill, and I don’t want to get on the pill, so if you guys want to—” I wave a hand vaguely, “—keep going, you have to use condoms if you’re going to finish in my pussy. That’s the only rule.”
There’s a pause, heavier than I meant it to be.
Lachlan is first to respond, voice soft. “Of course. I have condoms at my place, if you want to use them.”
Hunter looks at me, unreadable. “Condoms are a great choice. But let me ask you, sweetheart: would you be okay with the pull-out method?”
I think for a moment.
“Pulling out is an option, but you know it’s not a great one. Even one drop of semen can get me pregnant, and I’m a very fertile girl. You’re obviously virile men, so I think we’d be playing with fire.”
Hunter nods, blue eyes flashing.
“That’s right, but I’m okay playing with fire, sweetheart. Besides, if I’m being honest, condoms aren’t an option for me. They never have been, and I don’t use them.”
I gawp at him.
“You don’t?”
He shrugs.
“They’re a hassle and blunt the sensation of a woman’s slick pussy on my cock. I’m not going to give that up, so yeah, I’d like to get my dick into you bare, sweetheart, and then pull out when the time is right.”
Lachlan smirks.
“Will you have the self-control?”
Hunter smirks as well.
“I guess we’ll find out.”
I nod slowly. “Okay, so pulling out it is then, when you come in my pussy. Or don’t come in my pussy if you’re bare. I just don’t want to get pregnant. Not unless one of you wants to be a daddy,” I add, with a smile that is half-joke, half-dare.
Hunter shrugs. “Not unless you want that, too, sweetheart.”
Lachlan’s fingers tap a rhythm on the laminate tabletop. His gaze is steady, almost too intense. “Is that what you want, Stella?” he asks.
The question hits like a brick. I should have an answer ready, but I don’t. I look at both of them, these two men so different but now linked forever by what we did last night, and I feel a wave of something like vertigo.
“No! I mean, yes. I mean, I don’t think I’m ready for a baby, at least not now, and it would be confusing because you’d both be my baby daddies, and so who would be Daddy Number One and who would be Daddy Number Two? Oh my god, am I making sense?”
Hunter chuckles, amused.
“Not really.”
I bite my lip and blush.
“I want both of you,” I say, finally. “I want to be fucked, and I want to be ruined, and I want to remember every second of it. I just don’t want to… you know. Have a baby by accident.”