Page 3 of Lessons in Touch

They treat me like royalty.

And somewhere high above the city, I start to wonder what I’ve just stepped into.

The flight passes faster than I expected.

Somewhere after the second glass of champagne, sleep catches up with me. I curl into the wide seat, wrapped in a blanket that smells faintly of lavender and starch.

When I open my eyes, the sky outside is pale and unfamiliar.

We land in New York without a jolt. I don’t even feel the wheels touch the ground.

A car is already waiting at the foot of the stairs. The same driver opens the door without a word.

We move through the city—tall buildings, wide avenues, clean sidewalks. It feels colder here, sharper somehow, even inside the car.

At the hotel, someone else is waiting with a room key and a folder in hand.

They call me Miss Devereaux.

A concierge guides me to a suite. It is, of course, luxurious. Dark emerald drapes frame the towering windows, a four-poster bed swathed in cotton sheets dominates the bedroom, and roses in a crystal vase fill the air with their heavy sweetness. This is the Devereaux world, lavish and daunting—a stark shift from our flat’s worn comforts.

There is an envelope on the desk, sealed with wax. My name is written on it. I open it with shaking hands, and I read the letter from Mr. Harrow, the family lawyer.

Miss Devereaux,

Welcome to New York. As agreed, you will receive your inheritance upon completing your training at Wolfswood Institute.

It is imperative that you uphold the reputation of the Devereaux family. I cannot stress this enough: do not, under any circumstances, bring shame or scandal to the name you now carry.

Meet the required standard, and the inheritance will be released to you.

“The required standard...”

The phrase circles in my mind, and my heart starts pounding.

I move through the suite, letting my hand pass over the cold marble, the silk pillows, the glossy wood.

The sheer luxury makes me light-headed.

How do I convince my body—and whatever part of me still resists—that this is my life now?

In the bathroom, I run a bath and let the tub fill with steaming water. A small bottle of patchouli oil waits on the counter; I add a few drops, and the scent rises slowly. I undress and step in, the heat wrapping around me. My body softens, and my thoughts begin to drift.

Everything is new, and the sensation is unlike anything I’ve known. Joy flickers at the edges, but it’s threaded with fear that lingers somewhere in the background. Excitement moves through me too, quick and electric, like I’m standing on the edge of something vast.

I sink deeper into the water, trying to hold it all—what I’ve left behind, what’s coming, and the strange stillness in between.

The water wraps around me. I close my eyes, lathering myself. My hand slides between my thighs, goes down—and it’s just what I need right now. My clit responds immediately, and I can feel the pleasure radiating through my body.

I stroke myself slowly. My fingers glide over my clit, circling faster. I pinch one of my nipples with my free hand and pull it slightly, creating even more pleasure.

I spread my legs wider, and the sharp pleasure spikes through me. Slowly, I insert my fingers into my pussy, finding the sweet spot and teasing it. I sink a little deeper into the warmwater, allowing it to caress my skin. The sweet smell of the bath oil is intoxicating. I drift on the feeling of my pleasure.

My fingers plunge into my pussy harder, two at first, then three. My thumb rubs my clit in steady circles. I moan, and my fingers pump faster.

My clit pulses under my fingers, my pussy tightens, and I cum hard. My squirt is lost in the warmth of the bath water, and my cries echo against the marble bathroom walls. Waves of pleasure crash through me. My pussy throbs with aftershocks, my fingers are slowing, and I sink deep into the water, fearing, but at the same time longing for Wolfswood, where new life and power await.

Tomorrow, I’ll take my rightful place in the world of wealth, power, and mysteries. I wonder if love will find me there—or if I’ll lose myself in everything that’s about to begin.