The Dirty Ones

Kiera, still behind me, reaches around my upper body and loosens my tie until the knot falls apart and she pulls it through my collar with that soft whoosh of friction on fabric. Sofia continues kissing me, one hand lifting up her dress and slipping between her legs, the other working the buckle on my belt.

Kiera is unbuttoning my shirt. Her face pressed into the side of my neck. Her mouth right next to my ear, whispering something dirty about Sofia’s pussy.

God, I’ve missed them. Thirty seconds in and I’m rock hard and ready to fucking blow.

This is why, I think to myself. This is why we went to the tower each month that year. And this is why, two months in, we didn’t need the tower anymore. We fucked everywhere. In our rooms. In classrooms. The library, hallways, the women’s locker rooms, the pool, the chapel, and my parents’ house. That night of their anniversary party.

We had no right. No right to feel the way we did that year. And I still carry that guilt with me ten years later.

Sofia has my pants open and she’s pulling out my cock. Pressing it up against the soft silk covering her belly, rubbing it back and forth.

“Stop,” I say. “I’m gonna—”

“Shhh,” Kiera hushes me again. “Just one last time.” She echoes Sofia’s earlier plea as she kisses my neck, pressing her breasts up against my back as Sofia lifts her hips up, knees pressing deep into the mattress, and positions herself over my tip.

I moan when she lowers herself down and the tight lips of her pussy hug the tip of my cock. I slide in easily. She’s so ready and slick.

And then Kiera, still with her tantalizing mouth up against my ear, is whispering just like she used to. Whispering the words she’ll write down later in the book.

“What the fuck are we—”

But Sofia is kissing my protests away before I can finish. And Kiera is dictating, “She’s so wet for him. And he’s ready for her too. His cock thick and engorged with blood as he slides up inside her pussy.”

I don’t think I can take it. And it’s not fair. Because they know the two of them together make me powerless.

I grab Sofia’s hips and rock her back and forth in my lap. Trying to find the spot that drives her wild. She’s panting hard now, breathing into our kiss as I begin to rock her harder. Thrusting her forward and back, my cock so deep inside her she squeaks out a small cry of pain.

“She feels him,” Kiera says. “In her belly. Because he’s deep inside. Deep enough to touch her soul.” Her words pure sex.

Sofia’s knees grip my hips as she breaks away from our kiss and throws her head back, exposing her throat.

Kiera picks up my hand and places it there, pressing against her neck. My thumb finds that shallow dip in the top of her breastbone and my fingers squeeze into her soft flesh.

“His claim of ownership fills her up—”

Sofia is moaning. Too loud. Because Hayes, and Camille, and Bennett are on the other side of the door and now they’re gonna know.

She goes still, stiff. And I know she’s close when she holds in her breath, like she’s trying to hold in her climax, and then the explosion of pleasure comes out as a whimpering whine as she bites her lip.

I kiss her so she doesn’t draw blood and leave a tell-tale mark of what we’re doing. I kiss her hard as Kiera continues to narrate, and just before I come, Kiera pushes Sofia off me with a show of force, takes my cock in her hand, cupping her palm over my slick, wet tip covered in Sofia’s come, and captures me.

“Fuck,” I whisper, trying to be quiet. Always trying to be quiet because everything we did was a secret. “Fuck,” I say again. Because Kiera is massaging my semen up and down the shaft of my cock.

I am there again. In that place. In our dorm rooms. In the hallways, and the classrooms, and my parent’s house that night of the party…

A hard knock at the door jolts me out of the past.

“One second,” Sofia calls, voice throaty and sexy with lust.

“Jesus Christ,” Camille says from the other side of the door. She tries the doorknob, but it just jiggles back and forth because I locked it on my way in.

I knew.

There is no escape from the past.

“Come on,” Camille yells. “We’re fucking hungry.”

Sofia has a towel from the bathroom and she delicately and slowly cleans herself, then cleans me too.

What am I doing?

Kiera is buttoning up my shirt, whispering, “They like the danger. They like the idea of getting caught, and when they don’t—”

I laugh.

“When they don’t, it just makes them want to try harder.”