“I think it’s hot,” Daisy chimes in. She grins impishly while everyone （except me） groans. “What?” she laughs.
“That’s my brother, and you’re like my little sister,” Lo says with a disgusted look. “Just, no.”
Ryke’s jaw hardens, not saying a word. He just grabs his shirt off the floor and puts it back on.
“Thanks for that strip tease, bro,” Lo says.
Ryke shoots him the middle finger.
But I watch his eyes meet Daisy. Her bright grin has already completely vanished. I didn’t catch the moment when the humor left her, but maybe Lo’s comment did the trick.
Ryke and Daisy stare at each other for a long moment that’s filled with words I can’t hear and things I can’t read. I almost look away, irritated by this lack of knowledge.
Then Daisy mouths, Sorry, to Ryke.
“Just don’t hit my arm, okay?” he tells her. “It still fucking hurts.”
Her lips slowly rise.
“I know how to defend myself,” Lily suddenly makes a giant proclamation. She’s been in Lo’s arms, but she steps out and raises her hand at him, giving him the Vulcan salute from Star Trek. When we went to a comic book convention, Rose didn’t know what it was named, and Lo chastised her when she called it the “Spock thing.”
While Lily continues to part her fingers in a V shape, Lo looks at Lily like he wants to kiss her and block the rest of us out.
No one says a thing, we have our brows raised, standing still like what the hell?
“See,” Lily says. “Everyone’s too confused to attack.”
And then Lo playfully grabs her wrist. He leans down and sticks his tongue through the gap between her fingers, making a crude gesture. With her hand and his mouth.
The cameras veer off Ryke and pin on Lily and Lo.
Lily gasps and punches him in the shoulder. “You just desecrated the Vulcan salute!”
He wraps his arms around her hips with a grin. “Yeah? Who does the Vulcan salute while wearing a Star Wars hat? You ruined it first.” He rubs her head with the furry white cap. And then she stands on the tips of her toes and kisses him. He grins as he kisses her back.
“Shall we get started?” I ask. Daisy just came home thirty minutes ago, and it’s already one in the morning. And she arrived earlier than usual.
“Shhh!” Rose yells, extending her arm over my chest hysterically, her eyes ablaze as she whips her head from side to side.
Everyone frowns and goes quiet for a second.
What is she…
And then I hear a jiggling sound, like bells clinking together on her collar. Sadie emerges from the bottom level stairs, not hesitating to enter the main floor like she owns this part of the house too.
Rose reaches for her pepper spray on the ground, her eyes narrowed at Sadie like she only has bad intentions.
But the worst reaction comes from Lily, who apparently was “haunted” by Sadie last week in her bedroom. She said she’d wake up and Sadie would just be sitting there, watching her sleep. It was so ridiculous that I started crying in laughter when she told me.
“Ohmygodohmygod,” Lily says. I think I heard her say demon once or twice, but she slurs her words together in a frantic state. She starts running in circles around the living room, looking for a place to hide, but we pushed all the couches and chairs against the wall. The space is open for Sadie to find her.
And my cat lets out a low hiss the longer Lily makes jarring, spastic movements.
Daisy tries to reach out and collect Sadie in her arms, but Ryke pulls her away instantly, drawing Daisy to his chest. The last time she attempted to grab my cat, Sadie raked her leg, three long claw marks bled, and her mother had a fit, shouting at me for at least an hour at a Sunday luncheon. I actually sold Sadie after that, but I came home the next day and found that Rose and Daisy went out of their way to buy her back.
For as much as I like my cat, I care about these women more.
Lily sprints around until she finds a solution. She climbs on Lo like a monkey, crawling up his back while he struggles to contain his laughter and keep her from falling. With her furry hat and bugged eyes, she truly looks like some kind of gangly animal.
“I’ll take her downstairs,” I tell everyone.
“If we can’t protect ourselves from a cat, then what hope is there left for us?” Daisy says dramatically, a bright, playful smile spreading back across her face.
“I can defend myself,” Rose refutes, shaking her pepper spray canister.
“Darling,” I warn her, “we really don’t need a call from PETA in the morning.”
“Fuck PETA.”
Shit. “Rose.” I shake my head at her. This is where we’re different. She can’t hold her tongue when it matters.
“Someone’s going to throw a bucket of red paint on you after this episode,” Lo tells her. He has Lily on his shoulders where she seems content, her legs dangling on his chest. She eyes Sadie who saunters around the room with too much pride.
Rose looks slightly regretful, and I leave her side to usher Sadie downstairs. “I love animals,” she says mechanically to make up for it. She smiles icily at the camera, and then adds, “And if anyone ruins one of my fur coats, I’m going to bill you and then rip out your goddamn eyeballs. Because you don’t deserve to look at beautiful clothes, ever again.”
I watch Sadie slink down the stairs while everyone laughs. I smile as I glance over my shoulder, at these people, at my friends.
I wouldn’t want to miss this for Wharton.
I wouldn’t want to miss this for anything.
Right here is where I’m happiest.
CHAPTER 43
ROSE CALLOWAY
I stir to a body rocking against me, my eyes fluttering open in a half-sleep.
I squint at the fuzzy morning light, and my mind starts to collect my position and what’s happening: the fullness between my thighs, the hands on either side of my shoulders, the body that hovers above me with determined thrusts.
I’m still naked from last night’s rough sex, and the collar is firmly snapped around my neck.
My heart quickens as I meet Connor’s eyes. He watches me wake completely, making good on my strange fantasy that I once spilled. I always imagined I’d be aroused right off the bat, but it takes a little while to lead me there.
Connor facilitates my needs, rocking slowly to build up these electric sensations. I grip his biceps that flex with each push inside of me. It’s one of the few times I’ve had use of my hands during sex. When I glance down and watch the way he disappears between my legs, I feel myself start to clench around him.
He bends his head low and kisses me deeply.
I like this.
I can’t believe I like this. But more than that, I can’t believe he was willing to make it happen. I love him for it.
A layer of sweat glistens on our bodies the longer he thrusts. His mouth opens as I squeeze my legs around his waist, tightening the way he fits inside of me.
“Rose…” he groans, his face marbleized in pleasure.
And then he pumps hard, and I turn my head into my pillow and moan, my toes curling. He slowly pulls out while we both catch our breaths. He rolls over and lies beside me, our chests rising and falling together, in unison.
Waking up to a cock thrusting into me—it’s a turn-on that I can now fully admit to.