Page 91 of Their Dark Rose

A cold and unsettling sensation whispers across my spine. My chest heats, as if there are eyes on it. As if someone’s gaze bores into me. Traveling along the thin nightgown I’m wearing, dripping lower even though our window only reaches down to my breasts.

“Mallie can’t come in, silly,” I chide myself. “No one can come in without at least one cop storming in to save you.”

Talking to myself is a habit I picked up a while after moving in here. Well, not really a while. Five years, to be exact. On a night very similar to tonight.

As I speed walk up to my bedroom, the unease in the pit of my stomach intensifies. My skin prickles, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

Strangely enough, the feeling isn’t creepy. It’s sensual. Erotic almost.

The feeling I get when either Mase, Falk, or Finn are within twenty feet of me.

Except they aren’t here now.

They can’t be. If they were here, they wouldn’t have been able to stop themselves from touching me. Whenever I’m around, there are always fingers caressing my thigh. Lips trailing up my neck. Hands running along the curve of my spine.

They’re always on me. Teasing. Hurting. Coaxing one orgasm after the other.

What I’m feeling at the moment isn’t their presence. My overstimulated brain is working overtime. Because I miss them.

I’m a horny eighteen-year-old who recently discovered sex—the best ever—and I’m pumped on fear and adrenaline. I’m worked up.

That is all.

Instead of going to my bed, I head into Falk’s and slip under the covers. We’ve been sleeping in a different bed each night, and tonight I want to surprise them here.

For no other reason than just because.

In my mind’s eye, I see them walking in here later. I see them searching the rooms, looking for me. Desperate to have me after a long day at the office.

My skin grows hot, my thighs clenching on their own.

If I touch myself, if I make myself come, they’ll smell it on me. They’ll be mad. The bed would dip under their weight; the covers would be ripped from my body.

The scent of the wet spot right under my ass would reach them, turning them fucking ravenous.

My hand slithers down my body. I lift the hem of my nightgown and stop.

I can’t touch myself. Mason ordered me not to. He strictly forbade me from having an orgasm when one of them wasn’t around.

“Your orgasms are ours,” he said over coffee at breakfast a week ago.

Casual, disinterested.

But I knew his eyes. Knew the look of pure desire.

Testing me to say no, so he’d bend me over the kitchen counter and spank me raw.

Which I did. Of course, I did.

“My body, my choi—”

My hair was yanked, hard and demanding. A woodsy scent surrounded me. Day-old stubble grazed my cheek.

“That’s where you’re wrong, princess.” Falk flattened his palm on my belly, pulling me to him.

“Your body…” Finn pushed off the window, his teeth playing with his lip ring. When he reached me, he tugged at my nightgown’s collar, baring one of my breasts. “Our choice.”

“Argh,” I groan, flinging my forearm over my eyes.

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