Flock (The Ravenhood #1)(62)

“What if someone gets hurt?”

“Chance we have to take.”

“Why do I have a feeling that someone will be me?”

“I don’t want to… The way I feel about you, hurting you is the last thing I want. But if you’re debating on a choice, on choosing, I’m telling you right now you don’t have to. Unless you want to, and in that case, I hope it’s me.”

I blow out an exasperated breath, which only makes his smile grow.

“There’s a beauty to keeping a secret, Cecelia. But it can only remain one if you choose to guard it. Years from now, when you’re toasting with your friends during Sunday brunch, before the bitching commences, this secret can be the subtle smile that tilts those beautiful lips before you take your first sip of champagne. Everyone has them, but not many can keep them.”

He brushes my hair behind my shoulder before trailing his knuckles along my jaw. “It was beautiful watching you come undone, giving in to what you wanted. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dom so wrapped up in any woman.”

“Don’t…don’t say that.”

“Why?”

“Because if he feels anything…I want him to tell me himself.”

Sean nods, as if in perfect understanding.

“This is really okay with you?”

“You’re in my lap, looking at me like you want me, why the hell wouldn’t I be okay with that?”

“I don’t want to lose you,” I manage, my breath hitching, eyes watering.

“Cecelia, I swear to you, you will never lose me over this. Put that thought out of your mind. What happened doesn’t make my feelings for you any less real. I’m so fucking crazy about you.” A soft kiss, then another. “You gave me your trust today, and I need it.” He swallows. “There’s very little you could do at this point to get rid of me.”

“You are so…” I run my hands through his hair, “different.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” He nudges me on his lap and traces his lip ring with his tongue. “Whatever it is you want to do, do it right now.”

I lean down and mimic the movement of his tongue along the metal, and he exhales audibly and grips my neck, bringing our foreheads together.

“If you’re ever wondering what to do, that’s what you do. Whatever you fucking want, whenever you want, and you don’t apologize for it, not ever.”

“This is insane.”

“Welcome to my world,” he murmurs, before sealing me inside it with his kiss.





It’s been days of nothing but texts from Sean and not a word from Dominic, not that I expected any different. He’s practically a stranger.

However, now, an intimate one.

I cringe at the thought as I mentally crack a whip on my back.

I’ve been in a state of “what in the hell did I do?” and “please, my lords, may I have seconds?” for days and hiding in my house for the majority of it. I’ve been passing on Sean’s invitations, reading, swimming, talking on the phone with Christy—who I did not disclose the details of that day to. It’s my Sunday Brunch smile secret to keep—if I want to.

The more I question if I should tell her what happened, the more I try to think of words to explain it, how it felt…right, how letting myself go felt better than anything I’d ever come close to in the past. The longer I think about it, the more I know she wouldn’t understand.

‘Behind closed doors,’ ‘in the privacy of my home,’ there’s a reason people keep a lid on their sexual escapades, and I’ve never had one worthy of keeping despite our act being out in the open, until now. Scraping myself out of bed, I stare out the window into the dark forest beyond and the flickering lights of the cell tower wondering where the two men who have consumed my thoughts are. Have they thought about me?

Did they fist bump when they met back up?

Shuddering at the thought, I close the balcony doors and press my forehead against them. “Christmas came early, Cecelia, and guess what? You’re a ho,” I bang my head against the door with each word. “Ho,” bang, “Ho,” bang. Face burning, I send out another mental lash of the whip. My back should be nothing but lacerated and bleeding flesh with the number of imaginary whippings I’ve given myself. Still, the only thing reddening is my face as I blush and again relive every second on the float. My dreams of them the past few nights are vivid and downright sinful in nature. They’ve invaded me in both my waking and sleeping hours and I haven’t lived a single moment past those minutes I shared with them on the lake.

Sean’s texts are vague, they always are, but he sends them often. He’s been helping his parents at the restaurant this week, and because of my slut-shaming, I again missed the opportunity to meet them.

What in the hell am I going to say?

‘Hi, I’m Cecelia. So nice to finally meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Roberts. Why, yes, I am the tramp ass ho having wild, animalistic sex with your son amongst the trees. Why, just the other day we tossed his best friend in the mix, it was quite delightful. And your green bean casserole is delish.’

With every text, I can tell Sean’s making an effort to let me know he’s not going anywhere. He doesn’t want my head to get the best of me.