Chapter 23
Edie
“What the hell is going on? You’re as jumpy as a jackrabbit in heat,” Henrietta exclaims, eyeing me as I wear a path into her rug. She looks at me like I might spontaneously combust, and honestly, I feel like I could. After all, I just slept with a fucking vampire.
“I’m going to hell,” I shout.
“What?” she yells back, her curls bouncing around her face as she stares at me.
“This is all a horrible, terrible nightmare. In a moment, I’m going to wake up in bed,” I mumble, pressing my eyes shut, willing myself to do exactly that.
Only when I open my eyes, Henrietta is still staring at me, and I’m still standing in my pyjamas in her living room, my car keys gripped in my hand.
“Edie, listen. You need to take a breath and tell me what’s wrong,” she says. “Just take a deep breath, okay?”
I nod, matching her breaths, in and out, in and out. But my heart refuses to calm down. Any second now, it might just hurl itself out of my chest and splatter across her pristine new rug. I wouldn’t blame it either. If I could detach myself from my stupid, lustful body, I would do it too.
“I think I’m going to throw up again,” I moan, gagging as bile burns the back of my throat.
“Please don’t tell me you’ve got that stomach bug all the kids seem to have gone down with recently. I do not need to get sick, too,” she says, backing away from me and covering her nose and mouth with her hand.
“I’m not sick,” I cry, gagging again.
She waves her hand at me. “You’re about to upchuck all over my rug,” she yells, grabbing my arm and dragging me to her downstairs bathroom. She pushes me inside and points to the toilet. “Throw up in there.”
“I’m not bloody sick, Henrietta,” I insist, dropping my keys on her vanity unit and reaching for the tap, turning it on. I splash my face with cold water and grab the hand towel, shoving it over my face.
“Then what’s wrong? Maybe it’s the HRT you’re taking. Perhaps you’re allergic or something?” she rattles on. “If you want, I can call the doctor to get you an emergency appointment?”
“I don’t need a doctor. I need… Henrietta, I slept with Dorian,” I cry, scrunching the hand towel between my fingers.
“Wait, you fucked Dorian?” Her eyes widen, then after a beat, a grin spreads across her face. “You fucked him, and now you’re having a conniption. This is…”
“A nightmare.”
“Bloody amazing,” she says at the same moment. “I knew he’d be incredible in bed. Look at you, you’re shaking all over. You can’t even string a proper sentence together. He fucked you so good…” Her voice trails off as I shake my head furiously. “It wasn’t good?”
“It wasn’t—”
“Please don’t tell me he was a disappointment. I don’t think I can stand it,” she says, grimacing as I glare at her.
“He was incredible, but that’s not… that isn’t why… Oh, Jesus. I think I’m going to pass out again.”
My head swims, and I stumble towards the toilet, sitting down on it with a thump.
“He was so incredible, you passed out?” Henrietta whistles, then she does this happy little dance, grinning inanely whilst clapping her hands. “I want all the details. Every single, sinfully delicious second of them.”
“You do not,” I snap.
“Oh yes, girl, I do.”
She seizes my hand and drags me back to the living room.
“Sit. Stay. We need alcohol for this,” she commands, spinning away.
My legs give way and I drop onto the sofa.
Moments later, she’s back, slamming down two glasses and popping the cork on a bottle of champagne she’d been saving for a special occasion.
The cork explodes like a gunshot, ricocheting off the ceiling, and I nearly leap out of my skin.
“It’s not even midday yet,” I say, willing myself to calm the hell down.
“It’s after five somewhere in the world,” she says, waving away my argument. “Besides, you’ve had an orgasm during sex, and we need to celebrate.”
“I’m not sure celebrating is what we should be doing,” I reply, taking the glass from her, anyway.
“Listen, if you’re feeling some type of way about those men he killed—”
“Murdered, Edie. He murdered them.”
“Then I give you permission not to feel guilty,” she continues. “He got rid of two deviant bastards, and frankly deserves a medal, or at least some kind of award.”
“That’s… That’s not what I’m...”
“Then what is it? Did he turn into an arsehole again as soon as he had his wicked way with you?” she scowls then, and I shake my head.
“No. I… He… Fuck.”
Plopping on the sofa next to me, she grins. “Well, spill it. How many times did you come?”
“Several,” I mutter, swallowing down the sharp taste of champagne, the bubbles bursting over my tongue as I swallow.
“Several?” She swoons, placing the back of her hand on her forehead and falling back against the sofa. “Edie, this is the universe’s way of paying you back for all those years you spent dissatisfied with Robert. I told you Dorian would be amazing in bed.”
“Well, if it is, the universe has a terrible sense of humour,” I bite back, taking another sip of champagne.
“What’s that supposed to mean? You came several times. The universe has got your back, or should I say, vagina.”
“The sex was amazing,” I admit, exhaling slowly. “But that isn’t the issue here.”
“Then what is? Was it the aftercare?” she asks, sitting forward and reaching for my hand. “Did he leave without saying goodbye?”
She searches my face, her delight quickly turning to concern as I shudder, fear and confusion overtaking every other emotion I’m feeling right now. “He couldn’t leave. He’s currently curled up in my walk-in-wardrobe.”
Henrietta’s brows furrow. “Why is he in your wardrobe?” She pauses, cocking her head. “Is this why you’re still in your pyjamas? Wait, did you role-play and something went wrong?”
“I’m not sure you can call this role play…”
My voice trails off as I get a flashback of Dorian sinking his fangs into my neck. I shudder, not just from fear, but from the sudden spike of lust that shoots through my veins and pools between my legs. It’s so overwhelming that I let out a stuttered moan, then slam my mouth shut.
“Jesus, Edie, I knew he’d be kinky, but I think, maybe, he should’ve eased you in gently. What the hell happened?”
“He climbed through my window, and I was going to stab him with my knife—”
“Wait, what?” she exclaims.
“After I called him and questioned him about those men he murdered,” I remind her and myself. “He admitted he’d broken into my home last week and watched me sleep.”
Henrietta’s mouth pops open, and she stares at me with round eyes. “What the kinky-fuckery? He watched you sleep?”
I nod, ploughing on before I lose my nerve. “I refused to let him in, so he climbed up onto my extension and came through my bedroom window. Then he stripped down to his boxers. That’s when I threatened to cut off his cock.”
“And he just took his clothes off with you brandishing a knife at him?”
“It was raining. He was wet,” I say, reaching up and rubbing my temples and the headache beginning to bloom there.
“Then what happened?”
“He said that he wouldn’t hurt me, then he grabbed my wrist and pressed the knife against his throat. I think he did that to make me feel safe.”
“He did what?” Henrietta shakes her head, then downs her whole glass of champagne, promptly filling it up again.
“He told me how much he wanted me, and I accidentally cut him.”
“You cut him with the knife?”
“It just happened. When I realised what I’d done. I dropped the knife and I…” I pause, taking another fortifying sip of champagne.
“Yes?”
“I kissed his cut better. I tasted his blood, Henrietta, and it was… Fuck, it tasted so good, like the most delicious glass of Merlot.”
“Jesus Christ, you’ve got a blood kink. Who would’ve thought it?” Henrietta muses.
“It’s not me who has a blood kink,” I mutter, swiping a hand over my face. I’m pretty sure Henrietta didn’t hear me, so I continue. “Anyway, we made out, then I stripped naked and tied his hands to my bed.”
“You tied him up? Edie, you dark horse.”
I nod. “I tied him up, then sat on his face, and he ate me out until I came. I came so hard, Henrietta. It was… It was the single hottest thing I’ve ever done in my life. At least it was until he chased me naked into the garden,” I blurt out.
Henrietta blinks at me, her mouth opening and closing before she slowly rests her glass of champagne on the table. One minute she’s sitting still as a statue, the next she’s on her feet, jumping up and down and squealing with delight.
“This is the best thing I’ve ever heard. Then what happened?”
“Then he fucked me. He picked me up in his arms and fucked me at the bottom of the garden, and I have never felt more alive in my life.”
“Could it be magic nowwwww,” Henrietta warbles, dancing around her living room, singing her favourite Take That song. I watch her, trying and failing to find the words to tell what happened next because, honestly, I still can’t wrap my head around it all.
Eventually, she sings herself out and drops back down on the sofa next to me, her face flush, her chest heaving with excitement and exertion. When I groan, she snaps her head around and stares at me.
“It’s okay. It’s all okay,” she soothes, gripping my hand in hers.
“You’re overwhelmed, and I can see why. You’ve gone from vanilla sex without an orgasm for years, and all of a sudden you’re role-playing and having several orgasms all at once.
Your body, brain and nervous system can’t quite cope with it. ”
“That isn’t why I’m so worked up,” I whisper, peeking over at her.
“Is this to do with him being in your wardrobe?” she asks, tipping her head to her side. “Why is he in your wardrobe? Did something go wrong?”
“You could say that,” I mutter, finishing off my champagne and placing it onto the coffee table with a shaky hand.
“When we were in the garden fucking, he erm… He…”
“He what?” she asks, her voice soft, cajoling. It’s the same voice she uses when speaking to a distressed student whilst trying to get them to tell her which playground bully hurt them.