The Dirty Ones

“Where’s Sofia? Is she alone?”

“She’s with Hayes. She’s fine.”

I let out a long exhale of breath and it feels like relief.

“I just wanted you to myself for a little bit, that’s all.”

I think about that for a few seconds.

“Is that OK?”

I nod, knowing he can’t really see me. But also knowing that Connor Arlington doesn’t need to see me to understand me.

“There were butterflies, right? Those were real, weren’t they?”

“What?” He laughs.

“At your parents’ anniversary party. Did they have butterflies?”

“Yes,” he whispers, kissing my neck, his hand exploring my breast. “Millions of them.”

I close my eyes, relieved that some things I remember are real, enjoying his touch. And soon he’s lifting up my lacy, Victorian nightshirt, dragging his fingertips up and down the line of my belly.

I want him to keep doing that forever. I want to stay in this bed with him forever.

But that book. And the whole reason we’re here. And Emily, somewhere out there. Lurking. She’s probably found a weapon by now. I’m pretty sure this mansion has one of those rooms where old families keep old weapons. Swords displayed on walls. Fanned out in pretty designs like this mansion was once a castle that needed defending and had an army of soldiers living inside the walls and now it’s just a shadow of its former self and everything that once was is a relic to look at and not be used.

Something is wrong. Bennett was right.

I picture her climbing up a wall, balancing precariously on stacked furniture to reach a sword on display. Or maybe she found an old revolver in a glass case. I’m pretty sure there’s cases and cases of dangerous things under glass in this museum. Clubs, or whips, or knives that were used in some long-forgotten battle over crops, or taxes, or some farmer’s daughter’s virtue—

“Do you want me to stop?” Connor asks, kissing the corners of my lips, his fingers pulling aside my underwear so they can slip inside me.

I’m wet for him. I used to be so embarrassed by that when we first met. How easy it was for him to turn me on with just a few kisses and the touch of a fingertip in just the right place.

All his fingers are in the right place now.

He’s got at least two inside me. Pushing forward, then drawing them back out, slick with my desire. He goes slow. I’ve always liked that about Connor. How careful he is with his lovemaking.

He can be rough too. I like that as well. But it’s the careful that touches my soul and makes me think I love him.

“No,” I say. “Don’t stop.”

The sex we’ve had hasn’t been exclusive. I don’t have much experience in being Connor’s sole focus in bed. Only these past two days and that one last time up in the tower. There was always someone else there. Always Sofia. Sometimes Bennett, Camille, and Hayes if we were all out together at the parties.

So even though we’ve had sex dozens of times in the past, this still feels new to me. This time with him. His body and my body. With no other bodies to interfere.

Connor’s other hand plays with the nipple of one breast, pinching it up into a peak as he kisses me. First my lips, which makes me open in response—both my mouth and my legs. He mumbles, “Yes,” into the kiss and inserts another finger inside me. Stretching the walls of my vagina the way his hard cock does.

I picture sex with him and Sofia. Feeling all the ways in which this is different. We weren’t into each other much, but we were into him. Making him feel good. Letting him watch us kiss. Letting him tell us to do things like finger each other, or lick each other, or… whatever.

I liked that part. The part he played. The part she played with me.

The jealousy I felt in my dream comes back, but not as a real thing. Just something that was always sorta there, and sorta not.

Right now it’s sorta not.

Because Connor is only looking at me. Only feeling me. Only has time for me.

I sorta miss her, actually. Things were less awkward with three, if that makes sense. Now I’m wondering, Is this right? as I reach for him and begin to massage my hand up and down the long, hard shaft of his cock. Does he like it? Or would she do it better?

He withdraws his fingers from my pussy and places his hand over mine, guiding me as I continue the up-and-down motion. His whole hand is wet. We jerk him off together and just thinking those words turns me on more.

Because Sofia and I used to do this too. And occasionally our eyes would meet and we’d move forward, towards each other, like we were being pulled together by some unseen force, and kiss.