Page 5

three

It’s after two in the morning when I make it to Gnarled Pine Hollow.

I slip through the side library entrance of our Gothic Tudor manor, tiptoe up the creaking back staircase, and sneak into my bedroom without detection.

By the time I reach my ensuite, I’m naked, and the tension I’d been holding in my shoulders finally loosens as I step into a steamy shower.

Smog, engine grease, and dried cum swirl down the drain as the hot water washes away everything I just did. But the places he touched are seared onto me like a brand, and no amount of scrubbing my skin removes them.

What did I just do ? How could I have been so naive? I feel completely stupid and used .

It’s my family’s fault; my father, brothers, and even my mother, aunts, uncles, and cousins have always protected me, to the point I have zero knowledge of what this supposed real life is like. Perhaps Nico is to blame, too, by leading me on for years .

A horrible realization makes me dry heave, then vomit. Seeing the contents of my insides is not enough to make me feel clean.

What if I was such a lovesick kid that I read too much into everything Nico did over the years? Am I so far gone that I misinterpreted it all? Maybe his rejection is the reason I was so willing to give a blowjob to a stranger.

My back hits the tile wall, and I slip down to sit beneath the rainfall shower head so I can think .

That foreboding figure from the woods won’t leave my mind. When I shut my eyes tight, I still sense his presence lording over me. I’ve never felt this repulsed and turned on at the same time.

Oddly, I find my clit pulsing at the recollection of being on my knees for such a large man, encouraging me with his words of praise.

My fingers slip between my legs to relieve the ache building there as my nipples pebble, remembering the corded thickness of him against my tongue.

The gentle stroke of his thumb over my cheek.

Rugged sounds of his dirty talk, even all the degradation and humiliation.

I’m not sure why it makes me so hot, but it’s enough to weaken my thighs until they shake, quivering around my hand as I rub faster and harder.

I picture the stranger here, observing me from the corner of my shower. His light eyes would capture mine while he wears a smug grin, tilting his head as he scans over my entire body. Everywhere his gaze touches would ignite with tingles.

He’d be pleased I’m touching myself at the vision of his cut naked figure. Imagining it, I tumble over the edge and come with a gasping moan. My pussy squeezes tight inside, needing more, and I wonder what it would have been like if he’d taken other parts of me tonight.

When I finish and take my time to gather my breath, I return to being disgusted with myself. My biggest hope is that I don’t fall asleep thinking about this when I’m fifty years old, cringing with embarrassment at how stupid I was.

After I wash my hair and dry off, I grab fresh panties, an oversized black T-shirt, and cotton shorts from the walk-in closet next to the bathroom. Back in my bedroom, I freeze with my hand on the door frame.

“I’m so sorry, Pip. Come here.” With his head lowered and brow furrowed, my twin brother looks like he’s the reason for my sorrows. His arms open wide, and I rush into them until he hugs me so tight, I think I may be alright.

If Oz could listen to what happened without flipping out, I wouldn’t feel so ashamed. He’s so tall now that his chin rests on the top of my damp head while I press my ear to his chest to focus on his heartbeat.

It’s just like mine.

“Want me to kill him?” he asks. For a moment, I think he’s talking about the man from the woods, then realize he means Nico Griffin. His twin senses must be alerting him to what occurred at The Underpass tonight.

I sniffle a laugh and shake my head. “No.”

The problem is…Nico isn’t the one I’m worried about, for once. Oz is aware of my feelings toward my childhood crush in sordid detail. We share everything openly and freely.

Until now.

If he found out what I did on my knees for a stranger , that it was recorded , he and my father and oldest brother would probably lock me up in a tower, never to see daylight until my appointed ceremony, whenever that will be.

The man has footage of me begging for it.

They can never find out. Not to mention, it could hinder my ability to be assigned to someone decent.

The itch of annoyance at the thought returns, worried I’ll be matched to a Viscount who will force me to become a gingham dress-wearing housewife.

One who bakes and cleans up their dirty handprint smudges on the stainless-steel refrigerator.

A wife forced to clap softly as they accept awards for whatever career they are slated to join.

Is that what I’m destined for? I really hope not.

There has to be more to life than being obedient and ornamented. I don’t want to be someone’s prize—I want to be my own escape plan.

With a squeeze, Oz murmurs against my head. “You know he’s a ho. He’s not good enough for you. I wish you would realize that.” When I tilt my chin up to look at him, he greets me with a soft grin. “I understand. It’s the dimples, but he’s not even my type.”

“That’s because he’s your friend.”

Oz releases me and shrugs, then wanders around the perimeter of my room, taking inventory of things to mess with.

When I slide under my purple-and-black velvet duvet, he lifts the top of my jewelry box, the discordant melody chiming while the ballerina jerks in halting arabesques.

I grab a balled-up sock from underneath my cotton sheets and toss it at the lid until it slams shut, but he’s moved on to pick up my stiletto from the evening.

He casually launches it at my pillow, which I shove off the bed and onto the floor.

“Well. If you want to talk about it, I’ll squat in here with you. Otherwise, I’m going back to Call of Duty .”

I wave him off and shake my head, not wanting him to stay. If he does, I think my guilt at not being able to tell him everything that happened will consume me all night. I’ll never sleep.

“It’s move-in day tomorrow. Are you packed?” I ask.

While his tongue toys with his snakebite piercings, he gives me a wan expression, his eyes pointedly scanning the mess covering my room. “Are you ?”

“Touché. But I bet I’ll be ready before you.”

“Right…”

On his way out the door, he knocks over a pile of clean laundry that tumbles onto the chaotic floor, then flips off the light and flings the door all the way open, yelling, “Goodnight! Love you!”

Maybe Oz was right. Worn out after a restless sleep, my body is tired from dreams so intense, it’s like I had an MMA match last night.

I hurry to the mirror to scan my face. My upturned nose has a dusting of freckles from the summer sun, and my hazel eyes are still in my head. All my teeth are there, too.

In my nightmares, I was beaten so badly, everything was rearranged. Then my molars kept coming out inside my mouth until I’d choke on them.

Evie

itz move in day bytches!

Valencia

I can’t wait to have you all in the house with me. You’ll finally understand how annoying Evie is.

Evie

And how boring V is

Amelia

Im bringing cupcakes!

Evie

Pippi better bring her A game for Massacre Monday – itz up first this year.

Valencia

Do some fucking stretches, P. Literally. Stretches for fucking.

Amelia

I’m not ready…

Evie

ur not ready? At least ur not carrying a v card like miss pure pipsies over there

Valencia

You should have fucked Mitch this summer, Pippi. It’s going to hurt if you get caught.

Me

I’m not getting caught

Evie

that’s my girl

In the back of my mind, I do have a slight bit of concern that I haven’t prepared enough, but those fraternity brothers have nothing on me.

I’ve trained with my father and mother my entire life.

Not only in mixed martial arts, but ballroom and ballet, jazz, and tap, too.

Was on the track team and cross-country team in high school.

If anyone is making it to the finish line untouched, it’s me.

I’ll earn Sigma Lambda Psi the points we need to win the coveted Lunar Chalice.

Gwen

Hey, P! Don’t forget to bring the fairy lights. We’re still doing blue and silver for SLP, right?

Me

Yep! I’ll bring them. Miss you and can’t wait to see you!

Gwen

I have so much to tell you about last night. Luv you beebs.

“Was that Gwen?” My mom waltzes in with empty suitcases and tosses them on my bed.

“Yeah. She was reminding me about the decorations for our room.”

“I got your bedding in the bag downstairs.”

I open my mouth to interrupt, but she continues.

“ And your mini fridge.”

As I stuff clothes into one suitcase, she places her hands on her hips and turns around to face the wall. “Mom?”

When she doesn’t answer, my heart melts.

“Mom…are you crying ?”

Her shoulders shake softly when she faces me with ruddy cheeks and glistening eyes. “I hate when you guys aren’t here.” She gathers me in an embrace and kisses the top of my head, and I squeeze her back before pulling away.

I feel dirty. Like I’ve really disappointed her. We usually share a lot. She knows a little about my feelings toward Nico, but not enough to tell my father, who would go ballistic.

Speaking of, my bear of a father rips through my room and tries to close half empty bags. “Let’s go. Let’s go… We were supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago! I can’t deal with this another year, Penelope. Where’s Oswald?”

Shit. He’s using our full names. “Dad, those aren’t packed yet. I’m almost ready.”

My mom grips his hand and leads him from the room with a mumbled scolding, and he whines back.