Flock (The Ravenhood)

“You are so…” I run my hands through his hair, “different.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” He nudges me on his lap and traces his lip ring with his tongue. “Whatever it is you want to do, do it right now.”

I lean down and mimic the movement of his tongue along the metal, and he exhales audibly and grips my neck, bringing our foreheads together.

“If you’re ever wondering what to do, that’s what you do. Whatever you fucking want, whenever you want, and you don’t apologize for it, not ever.”

“This is insane.”

“Welcome to my world,” he murmurs, before sealing me insid

e it with his kiss.

It’s been days of nothing but texts from Sean and not a word from Dominic, not that I expected any different. He’s practically a stranger.

However, now, an intimate one.

I cringe at the thought as I mentally crack a whip on my back.

I’ve been in a state of “what in the hell did I do?” and “please, my lords, may I have seconds?” for days and hiding in my house for the majority of it. I’ve been passing on Sean’s invitations, reading, swimming, talking on the phone with Christy—who I did not disclose the details of that day to. It’s my Sunday Brunch smile secret to keep—if I want to.

The more I question if I should tell her what happened, the more I try to think of words to explain it, how it felt…right, how letting myself go felt better than anything I’d ever come close to in the past. The longer I think about it, the more I know she wouldn’t understand.

‘Behind closed doors,’ ‘in the privacy of my home,’ there’s a reason people keep a lid on their sexual escapades, and I’ve never had one worthy of keeping despite our act being out in the open, until now. Scraping myself out of bed, I stare out the window into the dark forest beyond and the flickering lights of the cell tower wondering where the two men who have consumed my thoughts are. Have they thought about me?

Did they fist bump when they met back up?

Shuddering at the thought, I close the balcony doors and press my forehead against them. “Christmas came early, Cecelia, and guess what? You’re a ho,” I bang my head against the door with each word. “Ho,” bang, “Ho,” bang. Face burning, I send out another mental lash of the whip. My back should be nothing but lacerated and bleeding flesh with the number of imaginary whippings I’ve given myself. Still, the only thing reddening is my face as I blush and again relive every second on the float. My dreams of them the past few nights are vivid and downright sinful in nature. They’ve invaded me in both my waking and sleeping hours and I haven’t lived a single moment past those minutes I shared with them on the lake.

Sean’s texts are vague, they always are, but he sends them often. He’s been helping his parents at the restaurant this week, and because of my slut-shaming, I again missed the opportunity to meet them.

What in the hell am I going to say?

‘Hi, I’m Cecelia. So nice to finally meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Roberts. Why, yes, I am the tramp ass ho having wild, animalistic sex with your son amongst the trees. Why, just the other day we tossed his best friend in the mix, it was quite delightful. And your green bean casserole is delish.’

With every text, I can tell Sean’s making an effort to let me know he’s not going anywhere. He doesn’t want my head to get the best of me.

And I love him for that.

But what of love?

Thinking of this situation long term would be beyond foolish. But Sean hinted heavily, more than once, if I wanted to commit to him, he wouldn’t be opposed to it.

Maybe it was a one-time thing.

The idea of belonging solely to Sean appeals to me greatly. He’s more than enough. But did that act set me up to be greedy for more? I’ve bitten into the forbidden fruit, and with that knowledge comes the unrelenting urge to sink my teeth in again.

Sean knew it was a possibility, and he’d alluded to as much.

Do I really want to let the static chemistry with Dominic go if I don’t have to?

And being with the two of them and watching their reactions, I’ve never been so turned on in my life.

But how many more lashings can I handle? It’s only been days, and I’ve all but burned myself at the stake.

I’m not that girl.

I’m not that girl.