The Dirty Ones

“But?”

“But seeing Sofia makes everything complicated for me. This whole day is confusing. The book, us, tonight.”

“You don’t know what you want, Connor. So why not let me tell you, because I know more than you think. Just view this whole night… as a… you know. A thing.”

A thing.

Meaning… meaningless.

“It’s not though,” I say. “I just don’t know how to make that clear.”

“That was always your problem, Connor. Always on the fence. Never willing to commit. You’re gonna be the perfect politician.”

“That’s funny.”

“Why? It’s true. You’re just a figurehead. That’s all a politician is and you fit that bill to perfection. You’re gonna let your father run your life, and call the shots, and one day you’re gonna wake up after he’s dead and realize you had one chance to turn it all around and that one chance was tonight. And you did nothing. Just… did what you normally do and went along.”

I say nothing because he’s right, of course. I am that man. I will be that man.

So I say… “OK. Tell me what to do.”

And he does.

Kiera’s room is dark, so I force myself to be still for a few seconds, allowing my eyes to adjust. When the crack of light leaking in from under the door goes from barely visible to a golden haze rising up from the floor I step forward towards the edge of the four-poster bed, unknotting my tie and pulling it through my collar as I walk.

“Kiera?” I ask, pulling my shirt out of my pants and unbuttoning my shirt. “You awake?”

She moans, rolling over, one of her pale breasts exposed from her top, one long leg bare as it sneaks out from under the covers. Her hair is wild, splayed out on the pillow and half covering her beautiful face.

I want to turn the lights on. Want to see her better. See all of her. Never take my eyes off this woman. I want to make this whole nightmare go away. Give her something better. Leave behind my old life with all its expectations and just steal away with her to some far-away tropical island. Stay naked with her forever and raise babies on the beach.

God, what the fuck is wrong with me? We’ve been back in each other’s lives for less than forty-eight hours and all I can think about is throwing everything away?

You’re in love, Con.

I hear the words in her voice inside my head.

You’re in love.

Maybe I am.

I unbuckle my belt and unfasten my pants. Drag my zipper down, trying to be quiet.

I don’t want to wake her. I want to ease into bed, slip my fingers between her legs, and kiss her mouth as she dreams. Make her come in her sleep.

I am one sick fuck and I don’t care.

When I’m naked I place one knee on the bed and carefully swing my other leg over hers. She twists, flat on her back now. That one exposed breast caught in some stray ray of light that shouldn’t be there, but is. Like a spotlight just for my own sick, hedonistic pleasure.

Thinking back on the party at Camille’s house has turned back time for me. Taken me to the place I was, the person I used to be. The one who fucked her and Sofia—and sometimes Camille too. The one who didn’t mind sharing with Hayes or Bennett because they didn’t mind sharing with me.

It was an orgy. Group sex or whatever.

It was sick, and twisted, and very fucking erotic.

It was heavy breathing, and sweaty, naked bodies, and never enough.

It was never enough that year.

We fucked them all. Together.

It was sensuous, and uninhibited, and lecherous.

How did I ever walk away from these people? How did I ever live a day without them?

I place my hand on her one exposed leg and slowly slide it up to her thigh.

She moans again, mouth parted like she’s waiting for my cock.

I picture those nights long ago. At the parties. How Camille would always be the one to invite us in. And how Hayes would be the first to take her up on those offers. How Sofia was meek, and afraid, and shy. And how she changed. How we all changed.

How Kiera used to whimper and moan as she came.

I want to hear that sound now. Right now.

I lean forward, crawling up her body, my rock-hard cock dragging across the sheets. Aching to be inside her.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – KIERA

In my dream we’re dancing. It’s a party, but not one I was ever at with them. Everyone is here. Hayes, Connor, Bennett all wearing tuxes. Me, Camille, Sofia all wearing gowns. They are the gowns we found in the basement room that first night with Louise.

I stop dancing when I realize that. I’m partnered with Bennett for some reason, which is also confusing. So I look around, searching for Connor, then Hayes. Connor has Sofia pushed up against a wall, his hand hidden beneath the long flowing layers of her elaborate skirt. Her head is tilted upward, mouth slightly open. And he’s whispering something in her ear.