A shutter quakes through me so violently, my eyes snap shut and my back arcs on instinct. My body’s natural response is to let my legs drop open to give him access, but this damn pencil skirt won’t let me.

Then he continues, his voice deep and hungry. “I want to go up there and kill my brother with love while the taste of your pussy is still on my tongue.”

Jane Austen’s ghost!

Nipple-clamp! Nipple-clamp! Nipple-clamp!

TWENTY-SIX

WINTER

Looking Richard and Mildred Fox in the eye at dinner, knowing I just had an orgasm in their home gym while they sat upstairs waiting for us, is going to be hard, but not impossible. I imagine it will be kin to returning to lunch at the resort with soaking wet panties, looking all my friends in the eye after having just been fucked against a wall because Aleck needed to remind me who I belonged to.

The difference between the former and the latter? All my friends knew exactly what we had been up to. I hope to god Richard and Midge don’t recognize my post-orgasm glow. And Hayden, well, I hope the ground opened up and sucked him back to his home in Hell.

As Aleck and I exit the hallway, hand in hand, I’m made aware that my prayers have gone unanswered. Aleck’s family has moved from the deck into the house and are now sitting around the dining table. And Hayden (who unfortunately didn’t get sucked back to hell) sits to Richard’s right, twisting slightly as we approach the table. Midge sits at the head of the table, opposite Richard, leaving Aleck and me to sit across from Hayden.

“My apologies for that outburst. It was rude and ungrateful. Mother.” Aleck leans down and kisses her cheek as we pass. “I appreciate everything you’ve put together here. Let’s have a nice dinner.”

Aleck pulls my chair out and I sit, feeling my skin itch under Hayden’s provoking glare. Can he hear what I’m thinking? I wouldn’t put it past him. He seems like a good candidate for demon-like capabilities.

“Hayden, can you hear me?” I think, looking him dead in the eye. He can, if his facial expression is anything to go by, because he narrows his eyes, matching my glare. “You’re a jackass,” I think, amused with myself as I lay my napkin over my lap.

Aleck sits beside me, wasting no time extending his hand across the table. “Brother…”

Hayden stares at Aleck’s outreached hand, then gives a curt nod before shaking it in return.

“Very nice,” Richard says. “Let’s eat, shall we? Boy’s, thank your mother for dinner.”

“Thank you for dinner,” Aleck says, lifting the dish of lasagna and scooping a square onto my plate. “This looks delicious.”

“Midge, this smells wonderful. Thank you for dinner,” I say.

“It was my absolute pleasure, dear.”

“Yes, thank you,” Hayden adds. “As always, you’ve outdone yourself. I should have paid ten-grand for one of your plates, not that slop at the Lib.”