Nothing about my life truly changed today, even though everything about me seems to have.
“Yeah, Mom.” I glide my thumbnail along my open palm. “I know.”
She nods, smoothing her jacket down, her eyes snapping to the flashing screen of my phone on my nightstand, spotting Anthony’s name on the screen. “He keeps calling.”
“He does.”
“Right, well, tomorrow is tomorrow, and tonight is... tonight.”
I frown, and she shifts her body sideways, pushing my door open farther.
Balloons fill the entryway not a second later, and then Beretta’s face comes into view.
A harsh breath leaves me and only right then do I realize how much I needed someone I care for.
I push up onto my knees, and he comes right for me, ditching the giant red and white bouquet. I throw my arms around him, burying my face in his neck, but I’m stolen a second later.
I’m met with Arsen’s smile and my own spreads, emotion clogging my throat. I lay my head against his chest, locking my arms around his waist, but then a hand falls to my lower back and my eyes dart up, locking on Arsen’s.
He nods encouragingly, pushing my hair over my shoulder, and slowly I turn around, my gaze colliding with my favorite person.
“Ransom...” I breathe.
He sits on my bed, staring, waiting for me to be the one, and he should.
It’s my turn.
I step up to him, and his legs open, making room for me. Even though the sleeves of my sweater cover half my hands, I bring them to his face, tilting his head up and holding his eyes to mine.
I lower my forehead to his, and the corner of his mouth lifts.
He can’t handle it anymore, and his arms fly around me, pulling me into him as he scoots to the very edge. My thumbs glide along his lips, and he presses a gentle kiss there, making my own lips curve to one side.
My chest begins to rise and fall rapidly, and his grin turns to a smirk.
A low laugh leaves me, but something calls me to look back again and when I do, I find my mother still standing there, a small frown on her face.
When her eyes meet mine, though, it’s gone. She tries to smile but can’t manage it, and she holds her finger up, slowly stepping from the door.
I look to Ransom briefly, but then she comes back in, a glass, rectangular box in her hands.
She walks over, and with the slightest caution, she places it on my nightstand.
Our eyes meet.
“What is it?”
She gives the easy answer, the one I already know. “It’s what that key your sister stole led to.”
I spot the golden J and M on the top of the box, and my gaze flies back to her.
She lifts a shoulder. “Not everything I gave you was for pretentious reasons.”
A quiet laugh leaves me, and her lips twitch.
The moment, if we had one, is gone as fast as it came. She taps her fingers along the box once more, quickly walking out of my room, and closing the door behind her.
Not a second after she’s gone does Beretta literally run to lock it.
We all chuckle and the boys jump on the bed, lifting and placing me in the center of it, the cake I didn’t see them carrying right in front of me, ‘Trouble’ scrawled across the center.
Ransom moves behind me, while Arsen sticks a couple candles in, Beretta lighting them as he goes.
I don’t know why, but I grow nervous and then they’re singing.
My smile couldn’t be bigger. I bring my hand up to hide it in my sleeve, but Ransom pulls it down, pressing his cheek to mine.
“Make a wish, Trouble.” Beretta grins.
His words are intended to be fun, all part of the process, but a heavy sense of despair slips over me and they sense it.
The cake is moved from the bed, and with the two guys at the foot of it, Ransom at my back, I tell them everything, starting from the moment my mom told me what she needed and expected of me.
I share every word that came from Anthony, everything that’s happened with him, and all the shit from today with Amy.
I tell them about the gravesite today with my sister, and how my mom showed up, shocking us both.
When I’m done, they don’t judge or try to justify anyone’s actions.
They don’t try to pacify me in any way.
They don’t care about any of that, they only care about the way I’m handling it, how I’m feeling.
And I’m feeling a lot.
Too much.
I stand from the bed and they follow my every move.
I don’t want to bury anything, and I don’t want to hide, but I do want to let go.
I want to cut it all out while we can, so all that’s left is what matters most.
Us.
Me and Ransom.
Beretta and Arsen.
And nothing else.
I meet Ransom’s liquid eyes.
I turn off the lights.
Someone starts some music.
My man finds me in the dark.
He knows what I need, and he doesn’t make me wait.
He gets right to it, drives me against the wall, pins my hands high over my head, and grinds his hips into me. I fight for his lips, but he denies me, instead kissing and sucking on my neck.
Using one hand to keep mine pinned, his other pushes my underwear and sleep shorts from my body, and instead of letting me free to take off my top, he dips beneath it, teasing and twisting my nipples until I’m a whimpering mess.
Only then does he release me and tears my shirt from my body.
I try to undress him, but he grabs my wrists, halting me.
“Not yet, baby.” His hands fall to my breasts, massaging, squeezing and then he spins me around, plants my hands flat on the wall and lifts me from behind, his hands wrapped around my thighs from underneath, spreading me open completely.
He walks forward, so the edge of my knees meet the wall.
“Put your fingers where you want me,” he rasps. His teeth scraping my shoulder.
I don’t hesitate, my fingers slip between my legs.
The way he’s holding me, I’m wide open, able to easily find the spot that’s most needy.
I rub along the sides first, teasing myself, and my thighs clench. I pinch my clit, rubbing and rolling, and soon, my hips are chasing the feeling.
“Ransom, please,” I moan.
He growls, biting me. “Come, baby. Come and I’ll fill you with mine.”
My pussy clenches. Leaning farther into him, I slide a finger inside, rubbing, and my head falls to his shoulder.
Low, deep moans flow from the other side of the room and my lips curve as my body convulses.
Ransom squeezes, but he gives me no time to come down.
He lowers my legs and spins me, but he doesn’t take us to the bed, he hooks one of my wobbly legs over his shoulder and buries his face in my pussy.
He groans against me, sucking and flicking his tongue between his lips and my body starts to shake, the aftershock orgasm far more powerful than the first.
I moan loudly, but I don’t care.
I grind on his face, and when I’m about to come, I pull back, shove him when he isn’t expecting it and slam my mouth to his.
He chuckles, wincing when I bite his lip, and then he’s tearing off his belt, shoving down his jeans, flipping us.
I chuckle, but it turns into a deep moan when he shoves inside me in one, full deep thrust and my back flies off the carpet.
“Now you can wait to come when I do,” he tells me.
I squeeze him with my pussy in protest, and he laughs into my mouth, his tongue sharing my flavor with me.