Chapter Thirty-Nine – Dylan #2
“I feel the same, Dylan. I used to think I knew what love was.” He looks down for a second.
“I was convinced I had it figured out. I thought I loved my ex, but looking back? I was young and foolish. Then after her . . . I thought love was only a secondhand emotion.” His dark eyes soften when he says her name.
“I didn’t know what it actually felt like until Fawn made me feel it.
And it scares me too,” he admits quietly.
“Because once you know what that feels like, you don’t want to lose it. ”
Fuck, so we’re on the same page. I guess the roots go deeper than I thought.
“Do you think it’s too soon?” I ask.
Torin smirks briefly — not sneering, just considering. “Maybe, but it feels right. And that counts for something.” He pauses and continues, “Maybe best we let her say the words first. I don’t want to seem like we’re love bombing her or anything.”
I nod, accepting it without a struggle. It only makes sense. Some things just can’t be rushed, even when you’re as sure as you think you are. There is a silence between us that is calm and heavy but not awkward.
Definitely time to change the subject.
“So . . . did you send that dress to her house?” I ask.
Torin takes his phone out of his pocket and checks the time. “Yep. It should be there any minute. Think she’ll like it?”
For once, the overthinking is showing on his face, not mine. His weight moves from one foot to the other.
“Torin, she’s gonna love it. With the necklace, she’s going to look like a beautiful princess. Our beautiful princess.”
We look at each other, both of us smiling for real this time. Not forced. Just knowing that tonight’s going to be good.
****
Fawn
Two days.
Two fucking days for one chapter.
I used to knock out chapters in a couple of hours. As long as I had coffee and music, I was good. However, now, it feels like I’m extracting each sentence by hand. I keep asking what’s wrong with me, and I think the truth is probably everything.
Nevertheless, I did it, but I’ll give credit where it’s due — Dylan and Torin have been excellent.
They’ve been reaching out without being suffocating, encouraging me to write instead of just going around in circles.
Then, what made me power through was the refusal of dinner if I didn’t finish it — motivation by healthy, annoying blackmail. Very clever.
I’m in mid-self-care mode now, a thick green mask smeared all over my skin, looking like Shrek just ejaculated over my face. That’s when there’s a knock at the door.
Of course there is.
I groan under my breath, already picturing my reflection in the hallway mirror. There’s no time to clean it off, so I yank the door open, bracing myself.
No one’s there. How odd.
With pure relief, I exhale and then look down.
Right on my doorstep is what appears to be a massive white box, sleek and sturdy. There is a small envelope on top of it, with a note.
From your handsome men.
My chest just does this goofy little flutter. I know, under this face mask, I’m blushing.
I carry the box inside, cautious since it weighs more than I expected, and place it carefully on the coffee table. My hands hesitate for a split second before opening the note.
To our special, beautiful Fawn.
Two days or two hours, it makes no difference. But the fact is, you got it done, and we are completely and utterly proud of you.
Tonight is happening, and we can’t wait to celebrate YOU.
Inside, you’ll find something you can wear that we hope will make you feel as incredible as you are. There may even be something a little spicy to wear underneath.
The roses are just a bonus. You deserve those every day.
Love,
Torin & Dylan
I press the note to my chest, green mask and all, blinking a little too hard.
Yeah. Okay. Two days were worth it.
God knows how they will surprise me once I finish the book.
Very slowly, I open the lid, as if I’m afraid the moment will evaporate if I rush. And of course, I notice the pink roses, their delicate petals stacked in the bouquet, radiating a clean, ever-slightly-sweet aroma. My throat squeezes.
Beneath them is a body-con dress.
It’s a deep red, the kind of red that just screams confidence. The fabric looks luxurious and forgiving, not like something that’s going to stick to every bump. I already know this is going to mold to my figure, smooth out against my skin, and make me look hot.
And then, I see what’s underneath.
A black lace underwear set, so fragile and yet so unabashedly sensual. Stockings are folded neatly alongside it, lace so thin, it’s almost a challenge to see. I emit a soft chuckle and shake my head. “Torin . . .” I murmur to the empty room.
I just know he chose this underwear set, no doubt about it. In fact, every time I’m with him, my panties always seem to go missing. I’m going to have to start charging him.
The warmth arrives first, trickling in my body, and the excitement follows.
My gift now feels less than theirs. My gaze roams over the canvas leaning against the wall.
It’s larger than I had intended when I ordered it.
It’s three of us on the dock, caught mid-laugh, sun hitting us, smiling like we know some day, that evening will be significant.
In the corner is a little quote in gold italics: Us three. The three of us. Always.
I already know what they’ll do with it. They’ll hang it up like a prized possession, like it belongs, like they’re proud of it. Proud of us.
I can’t wait to give it to them.
But before I can, it’s time to get ready for my men.
****
A couple of hours later, I’m finally finished.
It has not been an easy process, with my curls refusing to behave.
They kept springing back whenever I attempted to control them.
It’s probably wise I warn Torin not to light a cigarette near me — my hair is full of spray. One naked flame, and I’m going up.
My makeup is simple: eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man, mascara, and a soft pink glow on my cheeks.
And the dress . . .
God.
As I suspected, it is stunning on me. The red is deep and rich, and the fabric lies just right. It caresses my curves as if it were tailored for my body, and it neither reveals nor conceals anything I don’t want it to. I don’t look for flaws. I just look . . . good.
My tits look amazing in the black lace bra — a very good choice from my men.
I actually feel confident. More than that, I feel sexy in a way that’s not performative, like I’m comfortable in my skin again.
The way confidence hums through me instead of nerves, I know they aren’t going to be able to keep their hands off me.
My phone buzzes on my bedside table again, then again and again.
Dylan: Video call us, princess.
Torin: We need to see you in that dress.
Dylan: Please.
Torin: Immediately.
Chuckling, I shake my head. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror — hip propped, shoulder cocked just right, curls sitting on my tits. Taking a picture, I strike a pose without thinking twice.
Then, I send it.
Like they have been waiting, I immediately receive messages.
Torin: FUCK! You look stunning!
Dylan: Has anyone ever told you red is your color? You’re so beautiful.
The sight of Dylan’s message unleashes a memory I thought I’d buried — Jason’s voice. Red’s your color, he’d said once, then laughed at me when I actually wore it.
That little thought flits through my brain with a flash of clarity before I force it back where it belongs: done and finished, no need to hold on, no need to remember, no need to grapple with it at all. I know Dylan and Torin are nothing like him. They don’t build me up just to knock me down.
My phone buzzes again.
Dylan: We’ll be with you soon, princess. You know that dress is missing something. Don’t worry, I’ll fix that. See you soon.
No doubt he’ll turn up, kiss me, and say that’s what my outfit was missing.
I’ve said it once, maybe twice, and I’ll say it again if I have to: it’s the little things.
I smile at myself, touching the material at my hips, feeling my pulse quicken.
My eyes wander back to the canvas, and that rush hits my chest all over again.
They’re going to love it. I know they will, because they don’t ever expect anything from me.
And that’s the thing — it’s not about the size of the canvas or how grand it looks. It’s about what it says without words. This moment mattered. We matter.
Whatever tonight is going to be, I know it’s already better than the past ever was.