“Fuck you, Avery,” Piers mumbles, his face close to mine. “Fuck you with your—your long hair and your—your waist and—your ass.”
“My what?”
And then he kisses me.
I’m stunned. I’m angry. But I know, deep down, that this is what I’ve wanted for a long time. I reach up and grab his hair, pulling him closer.
One of his hands swings around to cup that same ass, but he barely gets a good feel before a hand on my arm yanks me away from Piers. Bennett is staring at me.
“Avery,” he says, looking into my face … and then he kisses me, too.
Another hand, another yank, and Owen pulls me to him and kisses me deeply, his hands running up my back.
There’s a third hand on me, and it runs back down to my ass. I lean my head back to find Piers standing close behind me, his breath hot against my cold neck. I fall into his chest and kiss him, my own hands still on Owen. Bennett steps close and wraps his arms around me, and I’m in the middle of all three of them, warm even in the winter night.
Someone’s hands grab at my breasts. I moan softly. Someone else’s hands snake between my legs. I don’t know who’s doing what, and I don’t care. I reach behind me and find a bulge through pants. It must be Piers. I rub teasingly against it until hear him moan in my ear.
“Avery,” Owen says in front of me, a pleading look on his face. I take my other hand and run it down his chest to his bulge. Bennett leans into me and I kiss him, my tongue slipping between my lips to touch his.
It’s here, making out with Bennett with my hands on Owen and Piers, that I realize how fucked up this is. We’re outside. Anyone could see us. But for good measure, I switch to Owen, kissing him deeply, then switch to Piers. There’s so many hands on me in so many places that I can’t keep track.
It isn’t until the door to the tavern swings open
with a crash, and not far off, before I sober up enough to snap back to reality. I push Piers off and bat away all their hands. Feeling much more sober, I step back from them, panting while I adjust my clothes. I didn’t even realize that my coat had come unzipped, or my pants unbuttoned.
“Okay,” I say. “That’s enough.”
“What now?” Owen asks. His face is flushed red, and his excitement still throbs in his jeans for anyone to see.
Piers shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, locking eyes with me. His serious expression is a little undercut by him zipping up his fly. “This changes nothing.”
I nod. “Right. This changes nothing. I’m going back to the school.”
Bennett nods and walks straight back into the tavern. After a moment, Piers and Owen follow, but not before Owen casts a longing look over his shoulder at me. I can’t help but return it. Which one do I want more? Does it matter?
I turn my back on the warm tavern, on the trampled snow where just a few moments ago we all stood, and begin my long walk back to the school.
Maybe the cold air will clear my head.
What was I thinking? Clearly, I wasn’t.
The thought doesn’t stop the ache between my thighs.
The main road is blissfully clean of snow, so I make my way there and follow along it. The ground still feels tilted and uneven beneath me. I blink, but my vision is still blurry. I lurch my way along the road, stopping occasionally to let out a small belch.
It’s taking a lot longer to get back up to the school than it did to get down here in the first place.
Eventually I hear a car coming, so I shuffle over to the side to let it pass. It doesn’t pass however, but slows down and the driver’s side window rolls down.
“Black?”
I look over. Professor Helsing stares at me in disbelief. I stop and the car brakes beside me. He sighs and jerks his head at the passenger’s seat.
“Get in,” he growls.
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. It’s a relief to sink into Professor Helsing’s warm car. I snap the door shut, Helsing rolls up the window, and the car continues along down the road.
“Why is it I’m always running into you when something’s going wrong?” he snarls at me.