Jess was splayed out in the jacuzzi tub, eyes closed, her limbs relaxed as they floated in the water. My arm hung over the edge of the tub, resting against the wall as I sat on the floor opposite Manson. He was positioned mirroring me, leaning on the side of the tub with one hand trailing in the water, the two of us watching over our girl as she drifted back down to earth.
Our girl. Ours. It sounded so right, it felt so right. Whether or not it was true didn’t matter, at least not for now.
Despite what came after all this, Jessica was ours for the weekend, and I intended to savor that.
She opened her eyes, smiling sleepily as she looked around. The bathroom was spacious, connected to the cabin’s primary bedroom. A large frosted window over the jacuzzi tub let in natural light, and there was a walk-in shower big enough for all five of us to fit inside with a little crowding.
Like nearly everything else the Peters family owned, their cabin was luxurious. There were four bedrooms, but we only planned on using the primary one with its massive bed. At home, we had our separate spaces, but whenever we were all away, we usually slept together. It was comforting, easing unspoken anxieties and silent fears. Like surrounding ourselves with the feeling of home.
Because really, our home wasn’t a house. It was each other.
Jess inhaled deeply. “Do I smell food cooking?”
“Lucas and Vincent are on the grill,” Manson said. “Are you hungry?”
“God, yes.” She gave a satisfied groan and stretched, sitting up in the tub. She looked even more beautiful after what she’d just endured. Her eyes were tired and her expression was soft, as if she’d just awoken from a long nap.
As I traced my fingers across her shoulders, goosebumps prickled over her skin, and I smiled.
“How do you feel?” I said. She’d drawn up her knees and rested her cheek on them as she looked at me.
“Amazing,” she said. “Like I don’t have a care in the world.”
“Good, because for the next two days, you don’t have to care about a single thing except being a good girl for us,” Manson said.
The water sloshed as Jess inched closer to the edge of the tub, trying to get as close to us as possible without getting out.
“I can do that,” she said. “Especially if you keep fucking me like that.” She bit her lip. “I’m going to get turned on again if I think about it. You killed my pussy and then raised it from the dead.”
“Mm, zombie pussy,” I said, and she snorted with laughter.
Manson got up, grabbing a towel from the cabinet and holding it open for her. She held on to my offered hand as she stepped out of the tub and Manson wrapped the towel around her, taking his time to dry her off. She could have done it herself, but we didn’t want her to have to.
She’d endured flogging, fucking, and being tied up in a trunk. Now she deserved to feel like the princess she was.
Jess dropped her towel as she walked over to the bed, her naked silhouette framed by the glass doors in front of her. The doors opened onto the back deck, beyond which Lucas and Vincent were tending to dinner on the grill. Smoke drifted through the yard, carrying with it the savory scent of meat and vegetables.
Jess unzipped her suitcase, rifling through her clothes until Manson intervened. I wrapped my arms around her, caressing her soft skin as I reminded her, “You don’t have to care about a thing, remember? We pick what you wear…or don’t wear.”
Manson selected a thong and a short blue sundress, laying them out on the bed for her.
“No bra?” Jess said, and he chuckled.
“Why the hell would we want you wearing a bra?” He grasped her breasts as I held her from behind, squeezing them tenderly. “Frankly, the second we get back inside, I’m taking these clothes right back off you.”
There was a knock on the glass doors. Vincent stood outside, holding a large pair of tongs as he looked at Jess and made a “chef’s kiss” motion with his hand. She giggled as she slipped on her dress, and his expression changed to one of devastated sadness.
He’d always loved to tease, and how easily he got Jess to laugh had quickly become one of my favorite things. We’d kept to ourselves for so long. I’d never gotten to experience watching the others fall for someone in their own way.
Vincent opened the door, poking his head inside. “Aw, don’t cover up! What’s wrong — afraid the trees will see your titties?”
Jess sauntered over to him, swatting his hands away when he clicked the tongs at her. “Sorry, sorry, they got confused.” He chuckled. “You’re looking like such a snack, they thought they were supposed to pick you up.”
She shrieked as he wrapped an arm around her and lifted her straight up off her feet. He carried her across the deck, her arms and legs swiftly wrapping around him. The evening air was cool, the smell of smoke and cooking meat making my mouth water. The Peters family owned the acre of land the cabin sat on, so we had the entire space to ourselves with no concern about nearby campers.
I glanced over at Manson as he leaned against the doorframe. He’d retrieved his whiskey from the bedside table and was sipping it slowly. He looked calm, albeit a little tired. But Manson didn’t ever relax. He was like Lucas that way; there was a part of his brain he was incapable of shutting off.
Especially after seeing his father again, he’d been losing himself in his head more often lately. He’d fallen out of the habit of making regular appointments with his therapist, but I’d overhead him scheduling a session before we left for the weekend.
The burden of feeling responsible for all of us was heavy on his shoulders. We didn’t have a leader per se; it was more like Manson was the head of the household, guiding decisions rather than always having the final say. He’d never tell us he was struggling unless we pressured him to. He kept those thoughts to himself, clinging to the act of being the calm, cool, collected one.
It was a good act; I’d admit that. But it was an act.
“Hey.” He glanced over at me. “Are you doing okay?”
He nodded right away, and my eyes narrowed. “I’m good,” he said, but when I didn’t look away, his jaw tightened up. “Just have a lot on my mind.”
Leaning against his side, I nudged my shoulder into him, jostling him until I got him to laugh. “I get it. But your asshole old man isn’t out here, dude. Just us.”
“Yeah.” He took another slow sip, then offered me some. I didn’t like whiskey; I was more partial to beer. But I took a sip anyway, enjoying the burn. “I’m not going to want to go back, J. I can tell already I…” He sighed, watching Vincent carry Jess across the yard so she wouldn’t hurt her bare feet. “We need to get out of that fucking town.”
“We will,” I assured him. “We could list the house for sale as it is, you know.”
“We need to finish that last room. The downstairs bedroom.” He scrubbed his hand over his face, his next sip far heavier than the last. “When we get back, we need to clear it out.”
The downstairs bedroom — his childhood bedroom — had stayed locked since we moved in. Even glimpsing the interior of that dirty old room affected him. It was a haunted space, a grave in our own house. Too many bad memories inhabited it.
“Sounds like a plan,” I said. I stepped around him and snatched the drink out of his hands, holding it up like a carrot in front of a horse as I walked backward across the deck. “Come on, come on. Come and get the nice spicy whiskey. Don’t brood.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line, a look that made my stomach knot up with enjoyable apprehension as he strode toward me across the deck. He snatched his drink back and slung his arm around my shoulders, grinning as he said in a low voice, “Careful with your teasing, or Jess and Lucas won’t be the only ones I put on their knees this weekend.”
As if that was a deterrent. Frankly, this was exactly the right weekend for misbehavior. I generally knew how far I could push Vincent, but Manson was trickier to read. The calculated risk made it fun.
Vincent and I were closest, intimately, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t interested in Manson and Lucas too. I’d been deeply in denial when I met them, intimidated by their intensity, terrified of making the wrong move and destroying the best friendships I’d ever had. I’d also been unbearably, oppressively horny. The moment I’d decided to stop stifling my sexuality, all the desire inside me exploded and I couldn’t get enough. It had been a careful balance of wanting to fuck everyone and trying not to lose myself in rabid experimentation.
Having Jess around and watching her thrive in submission did, admittedly, make me crave it myself. I liked to switch; I found fulfillment whether I was topping or bottoming. But sometimes, I really fucking needed to be held down and overtaken.
Manson let go of me, swinging his legs over the deck railing so he could sit atop. Lucas was at the grill, his phone hooked up to a nearby Bluetooth speaker, playing Black Sabbath. Vincent set Jess back on her feet next to the grill, where the dirt was soft and powdery so she wasn’t likely to hurt her feet.
“More fresh meat for me,” Lucas said, grabbing her and squeezing her ass. “How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been kidnapped and ravaged by four wicked villains,” she said. “In other words, I feel fantastic.”
Most people wouldn’t have considered the slight curve of Lucas’s lips to be a smile, but it was obvious to those of us who knew him well. He held her close for a while, showing off what we’d soon be eating for dinner. Thick steaks, grilled asparagus, and Vincent had potatoes boiling on the stove inside. I was ready to pig out and spend the rest of the evening being lazy.
“The Peters own this place?” Jess said, taking a few tentative steps across the dirt to peer into the trees. It was a beautiful area, isolated and mountainous.
“Yeah, it’s their vacation house,” Manson said. “Or one of them, anyway. I lived with them for nearly three years and it still surprises me sometimes how much damn money they have.” He snickered suddenly. “The first time I came up here, it was just me and Daniel. We were still getting to know each other. I thought he would be a dick the whole weekend, but it turned out we got along.”
Daniel Peters was Kathy’s son, and one of the few popular kids at Wickeston High that hadn’t been a complete asshole. He worked for UNICEF now; we hadn’t seen him since Manson moved out of their house. But he was a good guy, kind-hearted.
“He convinced you to go boating and you nearly drowned,” Lucas said, jabbing his spatula in Manson’s direction with bitterness in his tone.
Considering I was a safe distance away from him, I said, “Sounds like Lucas still has nightmares about it.” He turned his narrow-eyed glare at me, brandishing the spatula in a far more threatening way than he had at Manson.
“You,” he hissed. “Better watch it.” I just gave him a wink and a grin that promised more trouble.
***
We ate our dinner on the back deck, around a large table with a firepit in the middle. We’d brought enough food for the weekend to keep in the fridge, as well as liquor and beer. Vincent and Manson enjoyed the whiskey, while Lucas, Jess, and I drank the beer.
As the sun sunk toward the horizon, dusk set in quickly beneath the trees. The shadows lengthened, and several eager crickets chirped.
“Manson and I are waking up early tomorrow to take the Bronco on some trails,” Lucas said. With his meal finished, he’d slouched in his seat, his beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “You should come with us, Jess.”
“We insist you come with us,” Manson clarified. “Ever been off-roading before?”
Jess leaned forward on my lap so she could grab her drink from the table. The moment she’d finished eating, I’d snatched her up from her seat and moved her to mine instead. It was hard to keep my hands off her, especially when she kept idly trailing her sharp nails along my arm. The soft scratches were soothing, leaving my skin tingling.
“I’ve been a couple times,” she said. “I get to drive, right?”
Manson’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his loose hair. “You want to drive the Bronco? On the trails up here?”
“With us in the car?” Lucas added, as if that little detail made it even more unbelievable.
“I won’t crash,” Jess said, laughing at their surprise. “I’m a good driver; I’m just bad at maintenance.”
Considering that she’d neglected her BMW’s engine until it literally couldn’t function anymore, “bad at maintenance” was an understatement.
“Mm, a good driver, right,” Lucas said. “We’ll see about that.”
But Manson was smiling as he sipped his drink. “All right, Jess. Yeah, we’ll see what you can do.”
She pumped her fist excitedly. “Hell yes. Get ready for the ride of your life, boys.”
“Might be the final ride of my life,” Lucas muttered, and she waved her hand at him disapprovingly.
“I’m afraid we’ll be missing out,” Vincent said, propping his feet up on the table. “But waking up with the sun two days in a row is simply not on my itinerary.”
Jess made a face, pouting her lower lip. “Oh, fine. What about you?” She glanced back at me. “Are you staying in bed tomorrow morning or coming along?”
Waking up early had gotten easier since I’d started going to the gym with her. But I really wasn’t a morning person, and it must have shown on my face.
She kissed my cheek before I could give an answer. “That looks like an I’m-staying-in-bed face.”
“I don’t want my head to leave the pillow before noon,” I said, and she nodded in understanding, running her fingers through my hair. God, I loved when she did that. The way her nails scratched my scalp almost made me purr.
“Okay, okay, I guess you can sleep,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Sounds like you’re just scared of me behind the wheel.”
“Testy little thing, aren’t you?” I said. “You better be careful tomorrow; Vincent and I will have all morning to plot what we want to do to you once you get back home. For your sake, I would try to make sure we’re in a good mood.”
Our conversation made time slip away. Soon, the darkness around us was deep. The view of the night sky was phenomenal, twinkling stars and glowing planets creating a glittering kaleidoscope above our heads.
“I need a shower,” Manson said, rising from his seat with a groan. He gave Lucas’s shoulder a subtle tap as he headed inside, and Lucas immediately rose from his seat to join him.
“Well, while they’re getting busy, I could go for a hot toddy and a movie,” Vincent said. “It’s getting a little chilly out. You two going to join me?”
“In a minute,” I said. Jess was settled so comfortably on my lap, with her head resting on my shoulder as she gazed up at the stars. I wanted to prolong the moment a little longer.
For several minutes after Vincent had gone inside, she and I sat there in silence. The fire had dwindled down, a few flames still licking over the smoldering coals. It had gotten significantly colder, but between the fire and our shared body heat, I was comfortable.
So comfortable that I didn’t want to get up. I could sit out there with her for hours staring up at the stars. Her fingers traced down my arm and over my hand, over the rings I was wearing.
“These are the same rings you made in high school, aren’t they?” she said. “In metal shop?”
I’d been obsessed with my metal shop class. All my other classes were AP, requiring hours of studying and piles of homework. But in metal shop, I could have fun. I could create whatever I wanted.
What I’d created were rings thick enough to be weapons. I hadn’t been a good fighter back then; I was on the smaller side, and I was damn timid. But I’d tried to emulate Lucas, because he was easily the toughest guy I knew. The way he carried himself, like no one in the world could frighten him, was admirable. I’d wanted my presence alone to be enough to intimidate people, like it was for him.
I wasn’t successful, but I’d gotten attached to wearing the rings. I liked the weight of them on my hands — my little suits of armor.
“Most of them are the same.” I pointed out the silver band on my ring finger, simpler than the other rings. “That one is from Vincent. He made it himself.”
She picked up my hand, holding it closer so she could inspect the ring in the firelight. “I didn’t know he could make jewelry. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, considering he has so many random talents.” When she lifted her eyes again, the firelight was reflected in them. “Is it an engagement ring?”
She said it with a small smile, as if she was trying not to sound too excited without knowing for certain. Her enthusiasm made me happy.
“Not exactly,” I said. “Marriage isn’t something we’re really thinking about, at least not in the traditional sense. The ring is more like…a collar that I can wear anywhere. It symbolizes devotion, love, loyalty.” Her smile widened. “So I guess it’s similar to an engagement ring, in its meaning at least.”
“Do you want a real collar someday?” she said. “Like one of those metal ones?”
“Have you been doing research into collars, Jess?” I said, and she lowered her eyes, a little blush tinting her cheeks. “Do you like the metal ones?”
She nodded. “I saw one that was rose gold. It was thin and delicate and so pretty.” Her words trailed off, and her eyes wandered too. As if she’d remembered something she didn’t like, something that made her fall silent.
“I think the ring suits me best,” I said. “I fidget too much with necklaces. They distract me.” Her hair had fallen into her face, and I brushed it back. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s just…” She took a deep breath, squeezing her hands together on her lap. “I remembered things I said to you in high school. Things I never should have said.” She lowered her head. “You remember too, don’t you?”
Insults used to roll off Jess’s tongue as easily as casual conversation. My fashion sense by the end of junior year had been stuck between “preppy private school” and “freshly-hatched punk,” which practically invited people’s comments.
“I try not to dwell on the past,” I said. I caught her chin with my fingers so I could get her to finally look up at me.
There was fear in her eyes. I hated to see it, but I couldn’t let her worry stop me from being truthful. These conversations were never meant to be comfortable, and since she’d brought it up, I could only assume she wanted to talk about it.
“I sneered at you,” she said. “I was so mean, and I barely knew you.” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, looking down again. “I’m so sorry. For the things I said and did. For the way I made you feel. You’ve been a lot nicer than I deserve, Jason. You’ve done so much to protect me, and you really didn’t have to.”
Her words left me staring in disbelief. During all my hours with her at the gym, I felt as if she and I had developed a particular comradery, a bond that was just ours. The past was best left alone; the painful things that happened, the awful things that were said — I tried not to let them matter anymore.
But I’d also learned not to expect apologies.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Jess.” I wanted to be gentle with her, I did. But if she was bothering to apologize, to confront how uncomfortable this was, then I had to do the same. “A lot of the shit that happened in high school fucked me up. It made me insecure. It made me hate parts of myself. It wasn’t solely you that led to that. I had worse bullies than you. But…”
“But I was still a part of it,” she said. “I hurt you.”
She was choking down a lot of emotions, clearly. Tears were wavering in her eyes as if they could fall at any moment. But she held them back, keeping her voice calm.
She wasn’t trying to make this about her. She was doing everything she could to avoid making me feel like the bad guy.
“You did hurt me,” I said, and it felt like releasing a massive breath to say it. “It sucked. And for a while, I didn’t know if I could forgive you. But then…I saw you with your mom.” Her head jerked up, and she looked at me with uncertainty. “You were at a parent-teacher conference with her. I was there with my dad. You were both dressed up. I remember thinking you both looked so damn glamorous for walking around a high school. But at one point, your mom picked up your hand and scolded you about your nails. She said you were embarrassing her. That she couldn’t believe you’d go out looking like a mess.” She winced, closing her eyes for a moment. “Sometimes, hurt people end up hurting people too.”
After I’d seen that, things made more sense to me. How a girl could be so beautiful and so cruel. So confident but so terrified. How easily those insults came to her mind, as if picking apart the appearance of those around her was simply normal.
In her world, it was normal.
“I’ve worked through a lot of shit since then, and I think you have too,” I said. She nodded, and I shifted my position so I could cradle her closer.
I could see Vincent’s silhouette through the glass doors in the living room, waiting for us to join him. But I didn’t want to rush this.
This was important.
“I forgive you, Jess,” I said. “When you first came around, honestly, I didn’t think I could. I didn’t think I wanted to. But you surprised me. You fit in with us better than I thought you would.” I grazed my fingers along her jaw and was almost left breathless by the look in her eyes. The emotion, the hope in them, tugged at my heart. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad that we get another chance at this, because this time, it’s going to be different.”
“Different,” she murmured, echoing me. “How?”
It was my turn to look away, a little surprised at myself. I tried to be careful with my words, but sometimes I told her things without a second thought.
“Well,” I said, “I have a hard time letting go of things I want.”
Our gazes met again. Every beat of my heart was like a hammer banging against my ribs. My brain was running a million miles an hour, and I couldn’t have plucked out a cohesive thought if I tried.
“I want you,” I said. “So if you still think this is all going to wrap up neat and tidy once your car is fixed, I’m sorry to break it to you, but you’re not getting rid of me that easily. Any of us.”
She’d drawn in her lips, as if she was trying to suppress a smile. “I’m moving out of town, you know.” I nodded. “And my mother is awful. She doesn’t like any of you.” I nodded again, and the next few sentences spilled rapidly out of her. “I’ve really fucked up before, and I’ll probably fuck up again. And I don’t always know the right things to say, and sometimes I blurt shit out. I’m insecure and petty. I can be selfish, rude, and sometimes I act angry because I get nervous —”
I put my finger over her lips. Her shoulders sagged, tension deflating from her.
“I know all those things, princess,” I said. “I expect nothing less. I want nothing less.” I moved my finger and kissed her, cupping the back of head. Her kisses were so sweet, and the way she clung to my shirt to pull me closer drove me wild.
When we parted, she sat there looking at me for a moment, tracing her fingers over my face as if she was memorizing it.
“I’m glad it’s different this time,” she said softly. “I want it to be different.”
She didn’t need to say anything more; that was enough confirmation for me. She felt the same. She wanted this to work, even if she didn’t know yet.
But to make sure she was thoroughly convinced, I kept kissing her until she was shaking, wide-eyed and breathless. Only then did I carry her back inside to join Vincent on the couch, snuggling her between us.
Right where she belonged.
