In the Unlikely Event

When they’re finally done sucking each other’s faces, Callum clears his throat. I turn and realize he’s been looking at me the entire time.

“Enjoy the show?” His lips twitch in annoyance.

“More than the company,” I mutter.

I’m so fed up with his passive-aggressive BS. But I also acknowledge it is my fault for not spitting out what happened between Mal and me in Ireland. Though it wasn’t my fault he had to be holed up with a business call. I tried. I couldn’t do it twenty minutes before we left for the party.

Mal and Brandy go back to their places, and I can feel my face heating up, like I did something wrong.

“Rory, your turn,” Callum clips.

I try to ignore his tone as I grab the bottle, look up at the ceiling, and say a silent prayer.

Please don’t let it be Mal.

I’m fine with anyone else. Preferably a girl. Even kissing Ashton would be okay. He is cute, a rock star, and not conscious enough to even remember this tomorrow.

My fingers clench the bottle.

“Are you planning on spinning it, honey pie, or just staring at it, hoping it’ll turn through the power of telepathy?” Ashton inquires, snickering.

I close my eyes and inwardly scold my no-show dad for the very first time since I was born.

Hey. So…we don’t really know each other, but if you’re up there, spare me the awkwardness. It’s the least you can do.

I spin the bottle, suck in a deep breath, and watch. It turns and swirls one, two, three, four times before it lands on…

“Mal,” Callum states with conviction.

“Ashton,” Brandy says at the same time.

Of course, she wouldn’t want me to kiss her crush.

Oh, and by the way, Thanks, Glen.

“I think it landed on Ashton,” I contribute.

Though I have to say, on the off-chance Glen is up there, trying to make amends by pointing the bottle toward Ashton, he is not keeping sober in heaven, because it does seem like the bottle is pointing smack between Ashton and Mal.

“It’s definitely pointing at Mal,” Callum disagrees, tapping his smooth chin.

What the hell is he doing? I’m not stupid enough to actually ask this when we’re with company.

“Guess it can only mean one thing.” British Bombshell cackles like a hyena, staring at Callum with a look pregnant with lust.

Everyone here has a dog in this fight, and hers seems to be the hungriest, most vicious one.

“And what would that be?” Callum turns to her without patience.

“A three-way kiss,” she purrs, twirling a lock of her hair over her finger.

“Yes!” Ashton pumps his fist in the air. “Fuck yes. Sex Slave and Pouty Poet in the same pot. Sign me up.”

“Sex Slave?!” Callum loses his cool.

“Chillax, it’s a pet name.” Ashton laughs out a curling ribbon of smoke.

I swear I will get stoned just from kissing him.

“Works for me,” Malachy says tonelessly.

I feel Callum giving me a shove toward the center of the circle.

“Go on, then,” he says.

“Wait, I don’t know about this,” I mumble.

“We had this conversation!” the British girl cries. “Don’t pussy out on us.”

“Yeah, don’t be a party pooper, Rory,” Callum presses.

I turn toward him, scowling.

He shrugs, a private, secretive smirk on his lips. “You’re not the only one who’s good at sharing. That’s good news, right?”

I walk toward Mal and Ashton, feeling my palms getting clammy.

“How are we going to do this?” I put my hands on my waist. “Do we want to start kissing just two people, and the third one will join in, or is it going to be…”

Without further ado, Ashton grabs the back of my head, pulls me in, and kisses me silly. He shoves his hot, alcohol-soaked tongue into my mouth, and that’s when I realize we’re all kind of drunk—Callum included for once.

Shitty music aside, Ashton Richards can kiss. I’m starting to enjoy it when I feel a second tongue wrestling its way into the mix, and now I have two tongues in my mouth. One of them is Malachy’s, and I know exactly which one’s which.

I can feel my clit swelling, my lower belly tingling in anticipation as we kiss slowly and passionately, Ashton nibbling at the corner of my mouth and Mal Frenching me to oblivion and back. It becomes clear that this is not a three-way kiss as much as it is two guys kissing one girl. They have minimal contact with each other, and they are here to serve me.

Just when I begin to wonder if I’m the only one getting carried away in the situation, Ashton puts a hand on my waist and plasters me to his body. I feel his thick, throbbing erection against my thigh and let out a groan. Mal is having none of it and pulls at my other side, tugging me close. I’m nestled between them, feeling hot, liquid lust slithering down to my panties.