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Mackenzie
It’s only at the last minute that I remember my coffee date with Camile.
“Shit,” I cry, leaping off the couch, where I’d been lying with the guys in a tangle of arms and legs. My head had been on Tino’s lap, my torso on Kirill’s, while Dom played with my feet. I remember how he was with those pumps he’d bought me and wonder how much he’s into that kink.
“What’s wrong?” Tino asks with a frown.
“I promised I’d meet Camile for coffee.” I check my phone. “I need to be there in ten minutes, and I still have to change. I can’t go like this.”
I gesture at my little ‘fuck-me’ outfit of the short skirt and heels. I knew exactly what I was doing when I chose these clothes. I’m sure the guys appreciated them, but I doubt Camile will feel the same.
“Want us to walk you back to your room?” Kirill offers.
I flap a hand, telling him to stay. “No, I’ll be fine. I just have to hurry.”
Dom gets to his feet, his expression serious. “Don’t rush. She’ll understand if you’re a few minutes late.”
I really don’t think she will, but I appreciate Dom seeming concerned for me. Is this going to be a new side of him? The protective side? I hope so.
“I’ll be fine, but I have to go.”
Tino pouts. “We’ll miss you. Will you come back after you’re done?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t know how long I’m going to be, and I really need an early night. I’m beat.” I also don’t want Camile to feel as though I’ve got my mind on something—one someone—else, wanting to be somewhere other than with her.
“Maybe we’ll have to watch that film Tino took of the two of you together while you’re gone,” Kirill suggest.
I poke a finger at him. “Don’t you dare. That only gets watched on my say-so from now on.”
He winks at me. “You are being a spoilsport. It makes me hard.”
I can’t help myself. Laughter bursts from my lips. “I’m not sure many others would find that a turn-on.”
He keeps his gaze on me. “When you are involved, everything is a turn-on.”
I let out a groan, so close to saying ‘fuck it’ and climbing back on the couch with them all. I know they’ll give me a good time, even if I am still sore from earlier. I picture myself dropping to my knees and taking turns sucking each of them for only a few seconds each time, moving between them like a taster at a lollipop stand.
I shake the thought from my head. What the hell are these men doing to me?
“I have to go.”
I spin on my heel, not giving them another opportunity to convince me to stay as I’m pretty sure they’ll win. Their shouts of ‘no, Mackenzie, stay’ chase me down the corridor, and I press a smile between my lips.
I clip-clop down the corridor and up into the main part of the school, and then to my room. I tear off the slutty clothes, heels included, and throw on a pair of sweatpants and some sneakers. I yank my hair up into a high ponytail. I look far more presentable now. Realizing that I must smell of sex, I rush into the bathroom and liberally apply some perfume and a touch of neutral lipstick to try to disguise my swollen, red lips.
It only takes me a few minutes to get down to the cafeteria. There’re a few people around, and I force myself to keep my chin up but don’t make eye contact. Camile is already waiting for me, and I experience a pang of guilt for considering dumping her for the guys. I really am a shitty friend.
“Hey,” I say. “I’m not late, am I?”
She smiles. “No, I just got here early.” She gestures to a couple of takeout cups on the table. “I got our drinks to go. I hope that’s okay. I thought we could take a walk. It’s a lovely evening.”
“Sure, that sounds good.”
I pick up my coffee and sip. Hazelnut latte. She got my favorite. I shoot her a smile, feeling affectionate toward her, and together we head outside. She was right—it is a beautiful evening. The sun is just starting to set, casting the sky in a watercolor of orange and red. It highlights the beauty of the trees around us. The fall leaves are almost at the end of their turning, some already having lost their grip on the branches and falling to the ground. I can’t imagine what it’ll be like out here during the winter months.
Instinctively, we put as much distance between ourselves and the gothic building of Verona Falls as we can. We reach the perimeter, a tall chain link fence running as far as the eye can see to our right, and walk slowly, companionably. I’m grateful to the heat of the coffee to keep my hands warm.
“How’s things between you and your mom?” Camile asks.
