Chapter 4
Laurette Devereux
There’s not enough alcohol in the world to prepare me for telling this story.
It’s been years since I sat in a confessional. I haven’t set foot in a booth since my early college days, back when poor decisions came with fake IDs and no paper trails. Good thing confession doesn’t need a priest or church. Just a good drink and the right audience. And tonight, I have both.
My besties have been patient. Barely. They’ve been sipping and speculating, trading theories while I sat here silently, letting them guess.
We’re several drinks in, the seats are warm, and their stares are sharper now. Less curious, more demanding.
They’re done waiting, and I can’t put this off any longer. No matter how much I want to bury the truth and never say the words out loud—it’s time.
I tip my glass back, sucking down the last of my drink. The bourbon burns the way I need it to. No chaser, no forgiveness.
There’s a hum under my skin I can’t shake. Not nerves. Not regret. Something uglier. Something sharp.
They came for entertainment, but what they’ll get is me peeling my soul back, inch by inch.
I rest my elbow on the table and lean closer. “All right, bitches. You want to hear what happened? You’re getting the whole fucking story.”
And it doesn’t have a happy ending.
They lean in like hungry wolves scenting blood, starving for the story, sharp teeth hidden behind pretty smiles, desperate for the carnage I’m about to serve.
“Start from the beginning,” Marissa says. “I missed our last girls’ night so I need all of it. How the hell did this even start?”
“The whole thing was so random.” But knowing what I know now? I’m not sure it was random at all.
“Jon David brought up a threesome, and I was pissed—obviously thinking he meant with another woman.”
“I mean… I think we’d all assume that,” Marissa cuts in, eyebrows raised.
“Well, it’s not what he meant. He was talking about a threesome with another man.”
“Ew,” Eden says, scrunching up her nose and shaking her head.
“Umm… yummy. Plot twist,” Brielle says, grinning.
“Oh, we haven’t even gotten to the plot twist yet.”
Marissa leans in, eyes sharp. “Go on.”
“I laughed it off. Assumed he was messing with me. But he brought it up again. And again.”
Marissa shakes her head. “Classic Jon David. He won’t stop until he gets his way.”
Relentless is what he is when he wants something. He finds the cracks and pushes until something gives.
“He kept saying it was about me and my pleasure. He wanted to see me enjoy myself. It would be hot and unforgettable.”
“I’m sensing a colossal hiccup coming,” Marissa says.
My jaw tightens. “I told him no, more than once. Told him it didn’t sit right with me, that it wasn’t some secret fantasy I was too shy to admit.
But he kept pushing. Slipped it into pillow talk, dinner chat, casual drives.
I think he believed that if he brought it up enough times, I’d eventually say yes. ”
“Which you did,” Eden says, voice flat. “So he got his way.”
“I didn’t give in. I chose it. Things had gotten stale between us, and I wanted more. I wanted to be turned on, and undone, and wanted by two men at the same time.”
Brielle laughs softly. “I have to admit… that actually sounds pretty fun.”
A server drifts over, tray balanced on one hand. “Can I get you ladies anything?”
“Bring another round. Double bourbon for me this time,” I say without hesitation. For what comes next, I’ll need it.
The server sweeps in, collecting empty glasses. She’s gone again before I can even blink.
I lean in, voice low, sounding as though I’m about to confess something sacred. “And then he showed me the guy.”
Across the booth, Brielle jerks upright, eyes wide. “Hold on one damn minute. He picked the guy?”
“Oh yeah. He met him on some app I wasn’t aware existed, one of those for couples looking to explore new things. The two of them had it all mapped out before I’d agreed to a damn thing. But of course I had no idea when I said yes.”
Marissa’s mouth drops open. “That motherfucker.”
“He showed me the guy’s profile as though he was presenting a damn résumé. Said he was perfect.”
“Jon David had been setting this up for weeks behind your back, and you still went?”
God, when Eden says it that way, I look as dumb as the main character in a Lifetime movie. I hate the way her words make me sound so naive. Or worse—pathetic.
“I went because I was open to trying something new. There are plenty of happy people in non-traditional relationships.”
But Eden wouldn’t know anything about that since she can’t see past her own comfort zone. There’s zero adventure in the bedroom between Derek and her. It’s always missionary with the lights off.
And probably a prayer afterward.
“Relax, Laurette. No one here is judging,” Brielle says.
Of course she isn’t. Brielle’s always been the open one—her dating history reads like a genre list.
But Eden and Marissa? Please. Those two are straighter than a priest’s poker face and twice as repressed.
“Look, I’m not timid. You know that,” I say, leveling a look at both of them. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.”
Marissa opens her mouth, but I keep going.
“I’m not some good-girl martyr. I’ve always been straight with Jon David. If I’m into something, I own it. If I’m not, I say so. No faking, no apologizing.”
Brielle gives me a small nod. She gets it. But the look on Eden’s face hasn’t softened—disapproval carved into every line.
“And before you go full judge-and-jury,” I add, “just because you and Derek have the blandest sex life this side of a retirement home—per your own admission—doesn’t mean I have to keep mine vanilla.”
That shuts her up.
“Ugh, fine. I guess I walked right into that one,” she says.
The server returns, perfect timing, balancing a tray of drinks with practiced ease. “Here you go, ladies.”
She sets the glasses down one by one with a polite nod, her eyes skimming the table. “Anyone planning to order from the kitchen? The blackened shrimp flatbread is our best seller.”
Marissa shakes her head, grinning. “Only drinks tonight. We’re here for the drama, not the carbs.”
“Fair enough. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit. Give me a wave if you change your mind.” She turns, weaving back toward the bar.
“I want to hear about this mystery guy,” Brielle says.
Callum. His face, the Mississippi drawl, that ruthless smile as he fucked Jon David’s mouth—it’s etched in my mind. I can’t unsee it.
“We drove to Mississippi, middle of bumfuck nowhere. The house was massive. Old money, Southern charm, all that. And the guy? Hot. Like stupid hot. Way hotter than Jon David, if I’m being honest. The kind of man who makes your ovaries tingle before he even says a word.
Charming as hell. Polite. Total Southern gentleman, right down to the slow drawl and killer smile. And also sinister as fuck.”
Marissa’s brow dips. “Sinister how?”
“That part’s coming.”
I pause and take a long swig of bourbon, the burn sliding low through my chest. I’m going to need it to get through the rest.
“The three of us sat down to go over the rules and boundaries. What I was and wasn’t comfortable doing.
That’s when the wheels came off. Callum, that’s his name, started asking questions.
Not curious questions. Checklist porn script questions.
How I felt about anal, double penetration, sucking one of them off while the other fucked me from behind. ”
Eden chokes on her drink.
“But the real kicker was when he asked me how I felt about watching him and Jon David.”
Marissa’s voice drops. “Watch him and Jon David do what?”
“Fuck,” I say flatly. “Each other.”
Marissa recoils, her expression a mix of horror and fascination. “Laurette… what the helly?”
“I know.” My fingers clench around the glass. “I got the ick so fast. I didn’t sign up to be background noise while they fucked each other.”
Brielle’s lip curls. “Jesus, that went from porn fantasy to third wheel real quick.”
“One hundred percent. The more we talked, the more it felt wrong. Like I was being pulled into something without the whole story. They kept brushing me off, saying I should relax and have a drink.”
Eden’s eyes are wide with understanding. “They were gaslighting you. Making you doubt your own instincts.”
I nod once. “That’s exactly how it was.”
Marissa shifts closer, hooked. “Okay, so what happened next?”
I breathe in slowly, going back to that night. “Jon David handed me a whiskey. He said it would help me relax. I drank it. Then… nothing. Totally blacked out.”
Silence swallows the table.
“I woke up on the couch, fully dressed with the lights off. The house was dead silent. No Jon David or Callum. Just me. Alone.”
The tension stretches tight between us, a thin wire straining, seconds from snapping. They’re all holding their breath, bracing for the drop.
“I walked through the house calling for Jon David. No reply. Just a silence that felt… off.” I pause, fingers tracing the rim of my glass. “There was a door down the hall with light coming out from the edges.”
Marissa’s hand flies to her mouth. “Oh my God. No.”
Eden leans in, breath caught. “What did you walk in on?”
“Jon David was on his knees.” The memory curdles on my tongue. “Callum had a fist in his hair, fucking his mouth.”
“Holy shit,” Eden says, wrapping her arm around me and squeezing. “Girl, I’m so sorry.”
I shake my head. “I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Still can’t.” My throat tightens. “I stood there frozen—watching—long enough for Callum to look up and see me standing in the doorway. And he didn’t stop. Didn’t flinch. Just smirked as if it was all part of a fucking show.”
His words hit me again.
Fuck, you suck cock better than any woman I’ve had.
Tell me you want it, JD. Beg with your eyes since your mouth’s too full.
Your mouth’s a good start, JD. But I’m ready to pump my cock in that tight little asshole. All fours. Face down. Now, pretty boy.
Eden winces, color draining from her face. “What did Jon David say?”