by Jade West
He sighs. “She should choose. It’s not our call.”
Even the concept makes me edgy. Choosing me, choosing him – and I suspect she’d choose Jack, because who wouldn’t? The guy’s great. He’s my best friend for a reason.
“We need to think on this,” I tell him. “We need considered judgement. Her welfare has to be our top priority. Her security comes first, beyond anything else.”
“Agreed,” he says.
I look beyond him to the lights on in Drury’s. “I should get back. I’ve got to get through this leaving party before I can find my bearings. You’ve dropped quite a fucking bombshell on me.”
I’m expecting him to speed off back home to hole up with Carrie just as soon as I make a move, but he doesn’t.
He gets out of the car when I do and bleeps the central locking. “I think I need a drink after all this. Think prissy Pam will mind if I gatecrash?”
The prospect is a good one. Having Jack at my side in Drury’s will be a strangely comforting norm amongst the turbulence.
“I’m sure you’ll be very welcome.”
There’s a smile on my face as we cross the car park. A friendly slap on the back as we head in through the rear entrance.
But an ache in my heart that no amount of rational thought will ever make go away.
Jack
I feel like an absolute prize fucking asshole as we head into Drury’s. Mike might be putting a thoroughly gracious front on it, but my confession has him reeling and I know it.
That’s the thing with Mike – he’s always trying to be the reasonable one. Always trying to do the right thing, for everyone. Not least for me.
And certainly not least for Carrie Wells.
If he was a lesser man, I’m sure he would’ve fucked the girl already. If he was a lesser man, I’m sure he’d have told me to fuck off with my stupid fucking confession after one paltry week of knowing her.
But he’s a better man than I’ll ever be, and in my gut that’s why I know he should be the one to make a move on Carrie, even if I’m the one in danger of recklessness.
Even if I’m the one who’s seen her pretty little tits.
The thought crosses my mind that maybe the little minx is playing both of us for a fool, but I doubt it. If Carrie Wells is playing a game, she’s playing a good one. She seems too sharp to risk pitting the two of us against each other, not least because she seems awfully settled at my place.
It’s like she belongs there already.
I wave to Mike’s colleagues as we step inside the pub, cringing as prissy Pam Clowes jumps from her seat and grabs Mike by the elbow. I think she’s always had a thing for him, even if he’s always been oblivious.
I have to stifle a laugh as she presses her mouth to his ear, as though I’m about to witness another confession of devotion that will leave his brain spinning even faster than it is already.
Pam’s whisper is ragged and harsh and nothing like I was expecting. It’s loud enough that I hear it over the chatter from the leaving party table.
“Carrie Wells is here!”
My eyes widen as his do.
“Carrie is here?” he asks and she nods.
“Smoking out the front with Eddie Stevens. They just came in and got tequila. I’d have stopped the barman if she wasn’t legal.” She pulls her phone from her handbag. “We should call Rosie and Bill, or maybe the police.”
I’d leap into action myself, but he’s already on it. His hand lands on hers, stopping her as she scrolls through her contacts list.
“No need,” he says. “I’ll handle this.”
“But they’ll want to know…” she counters.
Mike shakes his head but doesn’t elaborate, and it’s the look she gives him, bewildered speculation that has me jumping in to save him the unwanted scrutiny.
“She’s staying with me,” I tell her, just like that.
Both of them stare. Pam takes a minute to find her words.
“Carrie Wells is staying with you?!”
“She’s doing some work on my land,” I elaborate. “She’s good with fencing.”
“Fencing?”
I nod. “Fencing.”
“Fencing,” Mike confirms with a grimace.
I don’t hang around any longer, prising Mike from Pam’s grip and asking him for his assistance outside.
We leave her open-mouthed as we march our way through the packed pub. I hope for some reason Pam’s losing her fucking marbles and Carrie is safe back at home where I left her, but I hear her wild laughter before we’re even out through the door.
She’s had more than one tequila, that much is certain. She sways outside the window with a cigarette in her hand, laughing along with Eddie fucking Stevens as he recounts some idiot fucking story that he probably made up on the spot.
His eyes are all over her, his tongue practically lolling as she braces herself against him for balance.
I have the strange urge to rip the bastard’s head off, but I think Mike is gunning for him even more than I am.
“What’s fucking going on here?” he asks, heading right between them to break the contact.
“Having fun,” Carrie sneers and laughs right through it. “You guys were long-gone, why should I stay home alone on a Friday fucking night?!”
Eddie is a stupid cunt, I see his challenged brain slowly turning as he registers the implication.
“You’re staying with these guys?”
She slaps his arm as she cackles. “Yeah, they’re my new fucking foster daddies. Daddy Jack and Daddy Michael.”
I reach a new personal low when my cock twitches.
A really low fucking personal low.
Daddy Jack and daddy fucking Michael. The gleam in her eyes tells me she’s not entirely joking either.
There are no words for the clusterfuck she’s bringing into our once quiet country life.
“You’re coming with us,” I tell her.
She shakes her head. “I’m fucking not, Daddy Jack. Go fuck yourself.”
I grit my teeth and take a step forward, shunting Eddie out of the way as Mike takes hold of her arm. “You’re coming with us,” I repeat. “Right fucking now.”
“She’s my girl tonight,” Eddie protests, and this time it’s Mike that loses his fucking cool.
“You’re done here,” he says to the kid. “Take your drink and get back inside that fucking pub, before I tell the police you’re dealing again.”
“You fucking wouldn’t…” Eddie says, and if I wasn’t so pissed that Carrie was trashed on tequila in his company, I’d be amused at how Michael’s changing in front of my eyes.
Once upon a time he’d have defended Eddie to the ends of the earth, just as he defends all those kids whose paperwork lands on his desk.
But not anymore.
Not now Carrie Wells is involved.
“Get back inside,” Mike repeats and Eddie does.
He stubs out his cigarette and shrugs his shoulders at Carrie, and then he’s gone.
Good fucking riddance.
Carrie struggles in my grip.
“Get the fuck off me,” she screeches. “You’ve no fucking right to order me about!”
But I don’t. I don’t get off her and I don’t pander to her kicking and screaming either. I take one elbow, and Mike must have finally heeded my bastard advice about discipline, because he takes the other and together we drag her back to my car and bundle her into the backseat, be damned who sees the spectacle.
She tries to climb back out no sooner as I’ve shut her in, but I raise a finger and my voice with it.
“Don’t even fucking think about it,” I tell her, and she backs away.
I climb into the driver’s seat and check out her expression in the rearview mirror. She’s scowling, her arms folded across her chest as her foot taps furiously.
Difficult. Little. Bitch.
It’s about time this little cow learned some manners.
And I’m about to fucking teach
her.
Chapter Fifteen
Carrie
I can’t believe those two assholes were in the pub having a drink without me. I can’t believe they manhandled me into the back of the car like I’m a naughty fucking kid.
“Eddie Stevens is a stupid little shit,” Jack barks from the front. “And you’ll be staying away from him. He deals fucking coke.”
“Oh, I will, will I?” I snap. “Says fucking who?”
It’s Michael who turns to look at me through the gap in the seats. “Says fucking me, Carrie. And Jack. We both fucking say it, so shut your fucking mouth and be thankful we were there before you ended up more shitfaced than you are already.”
I stare in shock at the man who’s always been so kind to me, not recognising the angry guy who glares at me as I shut my mouth and settle down with a sneer.
The tequila has gone to my head. I downed way too many before stumbling out into the cold to have a cigarette, courtesy of Eddie and his plan to get his dick inside me. Any more and I’d be on my ass right now, most likely with Eddie’s slimy tongue down my throat.
I can’t keep my mouth closed for long, it’s not in my nature. “You’ve got some fucking nerve, both of you. You can’t fucking tell me what to do.”
And then Jack says it, he actually says it.
“While you’re under my fucking roof, you’ll do as you’re fucking told. Any more backchat and I’ll put you over my fucking knee and slap some fucking manners into you.”
Fuck, how a thrill zips through me. Fuck, how the tequila makes me want to slip my hand down my knickers and touch myself at the thought of Jack tearing my jeans down and spanking my bare ass.
I should be pissed at the humiliation of being dragged away from the pub in front of everyone – so many nosey gawping faces staring through the windows at the commotion.
I should be bailing out of this car and telling those sonsofbitches to get fucked, that I’m not doing what either of them tell me, because I don’t have to. I’m a woman now, a woman with her own fucking mind.
And her own fucking needs that neither of these two assholes are willing to fulfil.
Even though I’m drunk, I see the look pass between them. It’s one I can’t read, and that’s not something I’m used to. They’re conspiring without words, and it makes me uneasy, nervous…
Excited.
“I mean it,” Jack continues. “I’ll spank your insolent little ass until you’ve learned your fucking lesson. And don’t think for a fucking second that I won’t.”
I lean forward in the seat until my head is on Michael’s shoulder. He smells amazing. Like musk and man and rage. He stiffens in his seat as I breathe into his ear.
My voice is loud when it comes out. “Why are you letting him speak to me like that? You’re supposed to be my fucking caseworker.”
“Not anymore,” he says. “So I’d mind your fucking manners and sit back nicely in your seat, if I were you.”
But I don’t.
My thighs are closed tight, my muscles tense as my hips rock back and forth. My pussy is tingling, just like it does when I think about Michael and Jack in bed at night.
“You two are totally fucking out of order,” I hiss. “You’re not my fucking daddies. I’m not some little kid who’ll do what she’s told.”
“You will do what you’re told,” Jack barks. “And if we have to be your fucking daddies to knock some sense into you, then we’ll be your fucking daddies. I don’t give a shit.”
I suck in my breath so they don’t hear me gasp, and I can’t help it. My fingers slip between my thighs in the darkness of the backseat. And I’m wet. I’m really wet.
I’ve never had anything like a daddy before, not since my first foster family all those years ago. Not since Eli ruined everything for me.
I’ve never had anyone threaten me with a spanking before either.
I circle my clit with my drunk fingers, trying to steady my breath as I speak right into Michael’s ear.
“What about you, Daddy Mike? You gonna let him spank me? You gonna watch?”
“He’ll spank you his fucking self,” Jack snaps. “Won’t you, Daddy Mike?”
Michael’s so stiff in his seat. I can hear his breathing, and it’s fast. Nearly as fast as mine.
“Just shut your mouth, Carrie, and you won’t have to find out.” He shifts his position and I wonder if he’s hard. Surely not.
Not Michael.
Not the man who said he doesn’t want me.
I want to sink into the backseat and play with my pussy in the darkness where they can’t see me, but I can’t. I can’t because I do want to find out if Michael will slap my ass. If I shut my mouth and act like a good girl, I may never get to see where this is going.
And I want to.
I really want to see where this is going. Even if it hurts.
Especially if it hurts.
“I’ll never shut my mouth,” I snap to seal my fate. “You two pricks can threaten all you like, you’re too fucking pussy to lay your hands on me.”
Jack laughs. “Just keep talking. We’re nearly home.”
My heart races as we pull into the lane by the house. I wait until we’re on the drive until I take my hand from my knickers.
I’m surprised when it’s Michael who opens the car door for me and takes hold of my wrist. I fight him, because that’s what I do best. I kick and scream and lash out and call him filthy names from my filthy mouth, and I kick and scream some more as Jack joins him and wrestles me from the car.
“Shout all you fucking want, there’s nobody around to fucking hear you,” Jack says, and I do. I shout and scream and kick out at them, but they’re strong and I’m drunk and they take me easily. Jack grips me tight as Michael opens the front door, and I feel his breath on my cheek. I feel him, too.
I feel the swell of his dick against my ass and it makes me squirm.
“You’re fucking hard, you dirty bastard,” I hiss. “Does it get you off to be my daddy? Is that what you like, you filthy cunt?”
I feel a shiver up my spine as he lifts me over the threshold, and his voice is low and dirty and like nothing I’ve heard from his mouth before.
“You have no fucking idea what I want to do to a little brat like you.” His fingers twist in my hair and tug my head back and I gasp. I actually fucking gasp. “You don’t know me and you don’t know Mike, either. I think you’re in for a big fucking surprise.”
I stare at Michael staring at me in Jack’s arms. I squirm and wriggle my ass against Jack’s hard dick and I want him.
I want both of them.
And I want whatever it is they’re going to give me.
“You’ve been a rude little bitch to Mike all this week,” Jack continues. “You think he doesn’t realise you need to learn some manners? You think he’s going to let you get away with being this much of a brat, just because he had a job to do once?”
“He’s too chicken shit,” I hiss, watching how Mike’s jaw tenses. “He’s too fucking nice to teach me a lesson.”
Jack lets me go and I’m so surprised I stumble. I catch my balance in no man’s land between the two of them, feeling so unsteady under my bratty act.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Jack tells me as he heads past me into the living room.
“Then I guess it’s gonna have to be the fucking hard way,” I say.
It’s Michael who grabs me from behind and walks me on in after Jack. It’s Michael whose breath is in my ear as Jack takes a seat on the sofa I trashed just a short week ago.
“This is for your own good,” Michael tells me and tugs my jacket from my shoulders. “Sometimes people need tough love. Fuck, Carrie, I’ve tried everything else.”
“So stop fucking trying,” I snarl.
“Never,” he says and it takes my breath.
It takes my everything.
Never.
He’ll never stop trying.
It knocks the wind out of my sails
.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “But Jack’s right. You need discipline.”
I shiver as he pops the button on my jeans and slides them down around my thighs. My eyes meet Jack’s as he stares up at me, glaring at me despite the fact that I can see the jut of his cock standing up. Michael hooks his fingers in the elastic of my knickers and I moan as he slips them down. Their clammy and they stick and I wonder if he can tell how wet I am.
“Over my knee,” Jack says, and I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe this is really happening as I drop myself over his lap.
His palm feels hot against my skin. My hair hangs down to the floor as I balance myself. I can feel his swollen cock against my belly and I like it.
“Remember,” Jack says. “You brought this all on yourself.”
I cry out as his palm lands hard and square. “Fuuuuuuuck!”
Michael
Carrie Wells has officially driven me insane.
I’m not even drunk but I feel heady. Intoxicated by the way she pushes everything to breaking point.
My cock is so hard it’s uncomfortable, and it takes every scrap of restraint not to drop my pants and jerk myself off right in front of her, regardless of the fact Jack’s right in front of me too.
She looks beautiful spread across his knees. He rubs his palm around her sweet little backside and I wish it was me delivering the first blow.
“Remember, you brought this all on yourself,” he says, and she did.
I saw it in her eyes.
I saw the devilment in her as she pushed it too far.
He hits her hard, landing a smarting blow right on her ass. She cries out and squirms on him, and he rests an arm firmly across her back.
He hits her again and she squeaks but doesn’t move. Again and she grunts.
Over and over his palm lands hard on tender skin until she’s pink and sore.
“Say you’re sorry,” Jack orders.
She doesn’t say a word, not until he’s landed a couple of extra strong slaps across her thighs.
“I’m sorry you want to be such a dirty fucking daddy,” she whispers, and I hate myself for the man I’m becoming in all this.