Page 49 of The Unexpected

“Amazing?” I interrupt. “Yes. Absolutely. Even though I’m pretty sure I can’t sit straight ever again because my pussy and ass burn all the time now.”

She howls, the sound echoing in the small space. “I need all the details. Start at the beginning. No—wait. Do you want some Advil?”

“Not unless you’ve got one of those hospital donut pillows,” I shoot back. “And even then, I’d need two.”

She giggles, then, for real, goes to the battered supply basket on the shelf, digs up a packet of store-brand ibuprofen, and slides it to me across the counter like a forbidden substance. “Take two, and then spill.”

I take them, dry-swallow, then press the paper cup to my lips again. “Hunter—my uncle, if that was unclear—started it. He’s only my step-uncle, so again: not biologically related. Don’t freak. Anyways, it’s obvious our relationship is taboo, so we decided to talk to a pastor about it.”

Chloe listens like a woman studying for the bar. She nods, blue eyes intent, face slack with the glee of pure gossip. “And?”

“So Pastor Lachlan turned out to be hot,” I say carelessly, like this happens all the time. “We went for some counseling and things got unconventional.”

Chloe’s mouth is a perfect O. “So, like, all three of you⁠—?”

I nod. “Yes. And it’s not a one-time thing. We’ve fucked so many times now that I’m basically completely used up. My pussy and asshole are bruised, girlfriend. Like I have to take Epson salt baths on the reg to soothe my sensitive parts.”

She claps a hand to her chest, as if steadying her heart. “Holy fuck. Is this, like… I don’t know, I guess, a ménage?”

I shrug. “That’s a fancy word, and I don’t know what we are. I’m still learning the rules. Sometimes there are no rules, except that they both get what they want, whenever they want it.” I let that hang, then add: “And, for the record, they want it a lot.”

Her eyes go big, then bigger. “So, like, a free-use arrangement?”

I blink. “What is that?”

Chloe, now a professor at the School of Degeneracy, explains: “It means, like, the guy—or guys—can have sex with you whenever, wherever. Doesn’t matter what you’re doing. Cooking, gardening, even just bingeing the best Netflix series you’ve ever seen. If they want to use your body, they do. It’s a thing online.”

For some reason, the clinical way she says “use you” makes my heart go off-beat. “Yeah,” I say, after a second. “That’s pretty much the setup. I don’t ever get any time to myself. Especially when I’m in the shower. So much semen has swirled down the shower drain at our place, it’s crazy.”

Chloe cackles. “Is it as hot as it sounds?”

I don’t answer right away. I look down at my hands, the way the paper cup shakes a little in them. I shift on the stool, and a bolt of soreness runs up my spine from the tingle in my ass. “It’s better,” I say, honest. “Like, it’s always intense. Sometimes I want to say no, just to see if I could, but then I get this feeling and…” I trail off, trying not to sound desperate.

She picks up on it anyway. “And what?”

I glance up at her, the fluorescent tube overhead buzzing in the silence. “And then I want it, even when I think I don’t.”

Chloe watches me, a smile curling at the corner of her lips. “You’re addicted to two men, huh?”

I snort. “Who wouldn’t be? They’re both insane. I feel like I’m living in a porn series, but it’s romantic, somehow. But also illicit, and so totally hot.”

She throws back her head and laughs, then collects herself. “So—wait—are they into each other, or just you?”

I let out a little breath. “Just me, I think. But sometimes it gets… I don’t know. Competitive.”

She leans in, eyes shining. “Do they ever—like—DP you?” She whispers it, as if we’re in a confessional booth.

The memory is still vivid. “Yes. Yes, they absolutely do. All the time.”

She makes a little sound, almost a squeak, and then covers her face again. “You are living the actual dream, Stella. The dream. Do you know how many women in this city would kill for that? Especially with two good-looking, hung dudes? Who cares if one’s your uncle? Who cares if the other’s your pastor? If you’re having the sex of your wildest dreams, then it’s worth it!”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure anyone would want to trade places with me right at this moment,” I deadpan, shifting again on the stool. “I’m walking funny.”

“Worth it,” she says.

“Absolutely,” I agree.

For a moment, the silence is companionable. Chloe sips her own coffee, then eyes me over the rim. “So. Details. Like, whose is bigger?”