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Page 16 of Enemy of Ours #1

IRIS

I feel like I’m drifting in water. Why can’t I open my eyes?

Everything is black behind my eyelids, an endless dark sea in every direction.

Am I dreaming or awake? It has always been difficult to determine that since I lost most of my sight.

I twitch my fingers, feeling the cotton of my bedsheet under them, and turn my head where my bedroom windows would be.

The faint light reaches my eyes, allowing me to see the blurry outline of my bedframe and the French doors that lead out to the small courtyard balcony.

I groan out loud as I stretch my arms above my head, feeling a pleasant but deep ache between my thighs. Immediately, I pull my nightshirt up and feel around my exposed pussy. At once, my fingers touch the stickiness around my entrance and the dryness of my cum on my thighs.

“What. The. Actual. Fuck.” I wheeze out, scrambling out of bed in a panic and stumbling towards my bedroom door, but I’m interrupted from my freak-out as the door swings open.

Sofia lets out a faint, joyful bark and pads over to me, leaning against me in greeting before she starts sniffing loudly with her nose to the ground as she roams around my room, eventually curling up with a satisfied groan she always makes when she’s in her dog bed.

“Good morning, Lass!” Inga speaks in an overly cheerful voice from behind me in my doorway, causing me to whirl around with a gasp and press my hand over my racing heartbeat.

“Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that.” I exhale and turn towards her blurry figure as she flutters around my room, ignoring me as she hums under her breath, which is very unlike her.

I’m usually arguing with her, in the most loving way possible, before I’m even out of bed. But instead, she’s opening my drawers, pulling items out, and humming louder when I step in her direction.

“Inga… Is everything alright? Did something happen with your sister?” I ask worriedly, wondering about her strange behavior.

She’s never treated me any differently, even when I suddenly came home injured and practically blind. Something isn’t right. This is the weirdest morning. My head is pounding from my hangover, the very lucid dream of him, and now this.

She pauses, clearing her throat, and keeps her back turned towards me as she nervously arranges items on the top of my dresser. I can only see her outline in the bright morning light, but her shoulders are basically up to her ears like she’s guilty of something.

“Oh, everything is just fine. We have a busy day, lots to do,” she stutters, her tone nervous, making me step closer to her as my head tilts to the side curiously.

“Are you sure?” I ask again, starting to wonder if she’s hiding something as she steps away from the dresser when she notices me approaching her.

“Yes, Lass. I’ll get the shower going for you and add one of those relaxing, calming steam scents to start your day off well.” She clears her throat again and hurries away, leaving me gaping like a fish fresh out of water at her retreating figure heading into the master bathroom suite.

I shake my head, instantly regretting the movement.

It makes the pounding behind my eyes worse.

Maybe she has the right idea of letting the shower steamer relax my muscles and hangover, along with a hair-of-the-dog drink if I can get Inga to make me one.

I move cautiously towards the bathroom, feeling a throbbing pain on my upper inner thigh like a rug burn.

Right at my pussy entrance, it aches like I lost my virginity.

What the hell did I do last night? I stand outside the bathroom door, listening to Inga turn the shower on and open a wrapper of one of the steamers, so I discreetly raise the fingers of my right hand to my nose and take a deep inhale.

I quickly drop my hand, fighting a blush crawling up my chest towards my cheeks as the musky smell of my orgasm fills my nostrils.

Well, that explains the soreness between my legs.

Just how hard did I finger myself, and for how long?

I shift, feeling the dry stickiness on my thighs, along with an ache, and pray to God my bed doesn’t show my masturbation celebration from last night.

I hate myself a little for thinking of him while touching myself, remembering his strong fingers and his intoxicating scent that always drove me crazy with lust whenever we met in passing.

As an artist, I used to study his hands and long, strong fingers, wondering what they would feel like stroking along my body.

My imagination is crazy vivid; I can almost feel the ghost of his touch on my skin but quickly shake that thought away.

I haven’t been in contact with Romeo for nearly three years and plan on keeping it that way.

I’m never drinking again. Those memories and desires only come out when the alcohol is flowing through my body. That’s a bold-faced lie I tell myself. I think about him all the time and hate that he never leaves my mind.

“All set. I’ll lay out clothes for you; it’s a lovely day.

I figured we could take a stroll and see from there.

I’m going to go make you a hearty breakfast and a stronger drink.

” She chuckles to herself as she walks out, probably seeing my grateful expression just before I step into the steam-filled bathroom.

I slip off my cotton nightshirt and step into the shower, a sigh of bliss leaving my lips.

I grab my honey and vanilla body wash, cleaning in slow glides over my skin.

Everything feels more sensitive; I’m hyperaware of the heaviness of my breasts and the tightness of my nipples as the water soaks my body.

I can’t help pulling on one with a moan, my body arching into it before slipping down my stomach and over the tight ache below my belly button.

I gasp as my fingertips drift over my swollen clit; it’s almost painful, like it’s been used and abused.

I must have masturbated for a long time and came too many times, which is unusual because I can’t come more than once, and it takes me a while to get there.

My mouth drops in shock when I feel small bumps on my upper inner thigh, accompanied by a burning sensation as my soapy hands glide over the soreness.

I hiss from the burning sensation, and it’s hot to the touch.

What the fuck?

My mind races, and I snatch my hand away to quickly finish my shower because I suddenly want out of here. I need fresh air to clear my pounding head so I can think clearly.

He wasn’t here. You just fingerbanged yourself to thoughts of him. Nothing more .

I repeat that to myself, rushing through my shower and stumbling out, almost slipping on the wet marble flooring in my haste to leave.

I tie my hair up in a messy knot on top of my head since I didn’t wash it and walk nude out into my bedroom without bothering to dry my body.

As I pat at the sheets so I can hide the evidence from last night, my fingers graze a soft material.

It’s a sundress laid out for me by Inga.

I blush in embarrassment upon noticing that my bedsheets are wrinkle-free and that the comforter is tucked into the bedframe corner; then I plop down at the end of my mattress to slip my dress over my head.

I wear a long-sleeved cotton dress with a high neckline and buttons running all the way down the front, ending at my ankles. The outfit exudes comfort, ensuring that nothing can touch me and enveloping me in a cocoon of safety.

“What in the world is going on?” I mutter to myself, wondering why Inga picked this exact outfit today for me. I grab my red ribbon and begin tying it behind my head to cover my eyes.

She even laid out a pair of my favorite Converse sneakers to pair with the dress. I don’t like secrets or surprises, so I’m determined to find out just what’s bothering her and why she’s trying to comfort me by dressing me in the softest clothing, like a perfect shield to wrap myself up in.

“Come on, girl. Go give Inga some puppy dog eyes to distract her; she won’t be able to resist you.” I chuckle as Sofia trots over to me from her bed and leans heavily on my thigh for behind-the-ear scratches.

I start to leave my bedroom, Sofia running ahead of me with a bark, but I stop in the doorway as I suddenly feel like I’m being watched.

I turn my head slightly towards the windows, the curtains wide open to let in natural sunlight.

I stare in that direction for a long moment, feeling seen, and goosebumps cover the back of my neck.

They start to fade away after a minute as I continue to look in that direction.

Maybe I’m finally losing it. Life has thrown too much shit at me, and I might be going paranoid.

I shiver and wrap my arms around my chest as I leave my room, still feeling the odd sensation that someone was watching me. But that’s just crazy. Right?

“What do you say we head over to the art museum, and you can listen in the headphones to how the art is displayed with its history and the techniques of the brushstrokes?” Inga suddenly asks me out of the blue, her voice so high-pitched that it makes my sensitive ears ring for a second, causing me to wince.

I stop walking in the middle of the sidewalk, feeling strangers grumble in annoyance as they step around me to go about their day. Sofia lets out a low growl next to me as a person bumps into my shoulder, but I just keep a tight fist around her leash and give Inga all my attention.