30

T he hand at the small of my back lowered until it fully cupped my backside, fingers pressing deeply and pulling my hips against his thigh. His other hand moved over the swell of my breast, his palm grazing my nipple and causing it to rise under the thin fabric. My breath escaped in a shocked sigh and his lips moved down my jawline to my ear, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His teeth grazed the hollow of my neck and every nerve ending I had stood on end. His practiced fingers slid into the low neckline and dropped it off my shoulder to reveal my breast.

“I shouldn’t be reading this,” I grumbled under my breath, unable to stop as the arousal built between my legs. It was just so… Florence. I shook out the tension in my shoulders and adjusted in the chair, looking over at the chaise. I could see her there, laid across it with her hair pouring over the back, her lips parted. Completely undone in her dream.

The cool air sent a shiver through me for a moment before his mouth was on me, hot and wet. His tongue danced circles around my hardened peak, and my head fell back without my control. His teeth pulled softly, and it elicited a noise from deep in my throat that sounded more animal than I’ve ever heard myself. His hand was snaking high up my thigh, and the heat of wanting him ached within me. I felt simultaneously sharp and hollow, an emptiness that was somehow both pain and pleasure and…

I woke up with a start. The book had fallen from where it was resting on my chest as I slept and tumbled loudly to the floor. I relaxed back against the chaise, my heart racing. I could feel my pulse in my throat. My fingers touched my neck and I could almost feel the ghost of the teeth that grazed beneath my ear. My breasts heaved and I was still struggling to catch my breath, the pebbled flesh pressed tenderly against my chemise. It hadn’t been real, but my response to it had been more real than anything I had ever experienced. I could feel the evidence of it slippery and aching between my thighs.

The room was a dull glow from the lamplight; the night outside was black, and the windows now bare my reflection. My long hair was fanned loosely around my pale round face, eyes wide and excited. I could see the chemise had ridden up significantly in my sleep, and my stockinged legs were bare from the knee to my hips, and what of me that was covered by it was doing little to disguise the soft curves of my breasts and stomach. The ache in my core pulsed softly, and without truly thinking, I watched as my reflection reached down and touched the wet center.

My grip tightened on the book as my eyes flickered to where she would be. Her long legs and full thighs would feel better than the leather between my fingers, and it drove me to the edge. My breathing grew shallow with every word she penned. The idea of her taking control of her own pleasure was unexpected and torturous.

I leaned back in the chair further, letting my head fall back between my shoulders with a huff of frustration. Knowing how wrong it would be to use her words, her newly explored pleasure, to bring myself relief. But my cock pressed painfully against my pants at the thought of my fingers buried between her thighs and her lips on mine. To feel her breasts in my palm, to sink into the wetness of her… I closed my eyes and could almost hear the sounds that left her, breathless and begging for more.

“Jesus,” I growled and continued reading, my restraint waning with every word.

Warm and slippery, my fingers explored a part of myself I never had before. The memory of gentle hands slipping up my thighs spurred my exploration deeper. I slid a finger through my folds until I struck a nerve that felt as though I’d been shocked. My back arched in response and my hand moved instinctively, searching for that feeling again. My mind wandered back to the man as my hands picked up where my dream had left off; pinching at the swollen flesh of my breasts and stroking the tender flesh between my thighs as my hips rocked, until eventually, I succumbed. Exhausted and ecstatic all at once, the walls inside me shuddered and released, and I was undone.

“What are you doin’?” Koen’s voice startled me upward, smacking my erection on the heavy wood table and buckling over against it with the book beneath my palm.

“Reading,” I groaned as the pain rippled through me down to my toes, sharp enough to make my eyes water. I tugged off my glasses and wiped the tears from the corners with a knuckle before tossing them on the table.

“ Reading… ” Koen wandered into the library, his blond hair tucked under a backward hat and his arms exposed in a sleeveless David Bowie band shirt. “I’ve seen you get pretty worked up reading, but I’ve never heard you moan like that before,” he said with a smug look on his face as he crossed his arms.

I inhaled through the next aftershock of impaling myself.

Karma .

“Shut up, Koen,” I groaned and loosened my hold on the journal.

“What is it?” He pointed to the book, reaching across the table to take it from me, but I slid it backward away from him.

“It's a journal,” I said, finally able to stand up straight.

Until I knew that Florence had left it out on purpose, I didn’t want anyone else tearing through her personal thoughts. I shouldn’t have even succumbed to my impulses without her consent.

“Who’s Agatha?” He pointed to the scribbled note next to my laptop.

“Florence mentioned a letter written to her from someone named Agatha,” I said, staring at the note, my mind still waffling between the image of Florence touching herself and reality.

“Are you all right, big boy?” Koen’s green eyes flickered over me. “You look…flushed.”

“I’m fine.” I shook my head. “Do you think we’re being ridiculous?” I asked him.

He shrugged, a funny little scowl forming on his face as he leaned against the table to study my expression. “About Florence? You aren’t going to go all Wesley on me, are you?” He asked.

“Should I?” I countered.

“He thinks I’m losing my mind. I’m not.” Koen shook his head. “I know that he’s all family traditions and violence. You’re all research and logic, but…”

Koen was emotional and had gut feelings. I knew that. He knew it. Everything that had transpired since our arrival at Orchid Manor had put Wes in a mean state. He slipped in and out of them when he felt like he was losing control of a situation, but taking it out on Koen wasn’t necessarily fair. And Koen would let Wes use him as a punching bag because it was what they always did.

I didn’t agree with it but arguing the point had gotten old, fast with Wes so I turned to make sure that Koen felt protected during those periods of emotional upheaval. It didn’t happen often; Wes was his number one protector, but when it did it was always a balancing act.

“I’m sorry you feel like we don’t believe you,” I said, and he looked up from the table where his eyes had settled.

“I just know whatever is going on in this house, it isn’t her fault, Clay,” he said with conviction. “I’ve never been so sure about something.”

“Alright, well, one time you said that about a Hugh Grant movie and were horribly wrong, so…” I teased him, but he didn’t laugh. I leaned over the table and patted his cheek with the palm of my hand. “I believe you,” I said.

“Mmm.” That was the only response from him.

“I wouldn’t be in here, reading hundreds of books with a dead laptop if I didn’t,” I said, and he looked up at me with trust in his eyes and a small nod. His brows furrowed at the end of my sentence.

“What do you mean it’s dead?” That sparked his interest, the tension floating away from us as the conversation eased back to normal.

“I had the hot spot box for the Wi-Fi… but I haven’t seen it in a few days,” I said, looking around at the messy table. It was shortly after I found the articles on the Manor about the incidents. It was there, and then it just wasn’t.

“I didn’t notice,” he said. I’ve been a little preoccupied, hung unsaid in the air between us. “I’ll keep my eye out for it?” He said, standing up straight. He paused with a quizzical look on his face. “Actually, now that you mention it, I haven’t been able to find my charging bank for my phone either. Weird.” He shrugged it off and pointed to the mess of notes on the table. “Do you need any help in here?”

“Not unless you want to read through a bunch of books on ancient civilizations that believed the moon was a real person who took the form of a river,” I said quickly, wiggling the journal at him, and Koen stared at me in confusion. “Transfiguration,” I said, like the word would make any sense to him.

“Right, have fun with that,” Koen said, backing out of the library.

When the door closed, I looked back down at the journal, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth as I tried to figure out my next move.