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“Fine. You’re ours, and if you try to run again, we’ll tie you up and give you a repeat of this afternoon until you remember why leaving us is a bad idea.”
I shivered at the possessive look in his eyes. Noel had always seemed like the quiet one, even with his kinks, but this aggressive side was nothing I’d expected from him.
“So... that’s it? I’m just in a relationship with all of you?” I asked, meeting each of the guys’ eyes by turn.
“If you’re about to tell us you can’t keep up, I’ll let you know I can feel you getting wet again through these yoga pants,” Satan growled, cupping my pussy with a possessive hand.
“Insatiable,” Chris muttered, his eyes burning as he watched Satan stroke me.
“What about everything else?” I asked, trying to stay on task, even as I lifted my hips to meet Satan’s probing fingers. “I’m guessing both our fathers are expecting me dead by now, and it sounds like the storm has passed.” Noel glanced out the window and nodded.
“That’s even easier,” Satan growled, urging me to my feet and sliding my pants off. Hooking my legs over his, he spread his knees, giving all of my men a clear view of exactly how much I liked the idea of keeping all of them. Running a hand down my stomach, he parted my pussy with two fingers and rubbed gently, spreading my wetness around until I glistened.
“Tomorrow, we’re both going to commit patricide and take over all of my father’s businesses, then we’re going to come home, Noel is going to tie you up all pretty, and we’ll take turns eating your cunt and fucking your ass until you pass out from exhaustion. When you wake up again, we’ll start seeing how many of our cocks you can take at once. Oh, we’re getting you on the pill, too.”
“Fuck, she likes that,” Chris muttered as Satan gathered my arousal and licked it from his fingers.
“Someone get their dick out and come over here,” I growled, confident I wouldn’t have to wait long.
Four deep chuckles were my reply, and as the men converged on me, Satan leaned into my ear to whisper, “We’re your Christmas present this year, and forever. We love you, Joy.”
“I love you all, too.”
The End
Garnets and Garlands
Poppy Jacobson
Chapter One
Piper
GODDAMMIT. I stared at the departures screen, wishing once again that I’d changed out of these ridiculous stilettos before checking in, during the flight, before disembarking, at any point in the goddamned day prior to this moment.
Awful weather delayed my connection from Denver by two hours. I stared upward at the soaring skylights of the airport as snow swirled above us. I’d be lucky if I got out of here at all.
With a frustrated huff, I lugged my carry-on to the nearest bar and flounced into a chair. The hovering waitress didn’t bat an eye when I ordered a Manhattan with top-shelf rye. What was fifty dollars on an overpriced airport cocktail compared to my self-worth after catching my fiancé cheating on me? I downed the drink, barely tasting it.
When I signaled to the waitress for another, she gave me a little more side-eye than she had the first time. I slid my credit card across the table.
“Open a tab.”
When my fiancé tried to call again, I turned my phone off. He’d blown it up with messages of sweet contrition, swearing he’d never cheated before and would never cheat again. Liar! Cheaters never do it just once. I’d know—I dated a slew of ‘em, one after another.
Tears threatened to spill over. I blinked them back. The public humiliation of blubbering drunkenly in the airport bar to anyone unfortunate enough to be within earshot appealed as much as listening to my fiancé beg for forgiveness. That was to say, not at all.
The corner of the “bucket list” I’d drafted up to work through with my fiancé during our sexy holiday week teased me from inside my travel tote. I yanked it out and crumpled it up, enraged. Peter was handsome, successful, and wealthy. What on earth made me think I could hold on to someone like him when I’d failed so spectacularly with lesser men so many times before? I changed my mind again, and ripped the bucket list in two, then ripped it again.
The waitress returned with my drink and a plate of French fries I hadn’t ordered. She nodded over her shoulder at a man sitting at the corner of the bar, swirling his glass of caramel-colored liquor. Tall, dark-haired, handsome, and dressed in a suit—my kryptonite. He was staring at his phone, not at me.
There was a note folded on top of the plate.
Eat some carbs as you drown your sorrows in liquor.
When my eyes shot back to him, he’d turned so that he could watch me, his whisky-colored eyes devouring me from across the bar. I toasted him with my half-empty glass and turned back to my plate. I didn’t owe him a goddamned thing.
The fries were delicious. Fresh and crispy and full of delicious salt and fat, exactly what I needed after two spirit forward cocktails. Tipsier than I thought, I stumbled when I stepped away from my chair.
