“Fine. I concede your point. But grumpy or not, I’m on to something here. If your father is intent on staying away from you, perhaps we should attempt to track down the old man? You said he treated you as a special helper in the shop when you were a kid. Perhaps it was his way of trying to protect you. At the very least, Morrie can look into his life, see which retirement home he’s holed up in.” Heathcliff shrugged. “If we can find him, Mr. Simson might tell us more about this supposed danger.”
“You’re right. We will do that as soon as we get back. Maybe sooner, if I get sick of wearing these clothes and decide to bail early.”
“Please do. Mina?” Heathcliff leaned closer. His deep voice rumbled in my chest. I loved when he said my name.
“Yeah?” An electric charge leaped from my body to his.
“I’ve been thinking about the other night, in the time-travel bedroom.”
My heart thudded. I’d been thinking about it too, non-stop, all the time. How if Victoria Bainbridge hadn’t interrupted us, and Morrie hadn’t been such a wanker, we might’ve… things could have…
I might have slept with all three of them.
At once.
I gulped. Why did the idea of it make my body flush with desire and quiver with fear at the same time?
I’d already been with Morrie and Quoth together, and with Heathcliff on the same night. But that was a one-off threesome while I was tied up and then this was… another thing entirely.
There was the way Heathcliff unleashed himself when we were together, as though being with me kept him teetered on the edge of insanity. There was Quoth’s impossible kindness and his desperate, silent plea to be loved, and Morrie’s battle to control his emotions and conceal his dual nature. There was the way the three of them made me feel like I was invincible, like I could do anything. When I was with them, I wasn’t poor friendless Mina, the sad girl who was going blind. I was a goddess. And by Astarte that felt good.
I could never choose one of them. I needed them all, as I’d come to suspect they needed me. But did that mean all four of us, in bed, together? Would that even work?
“What were you thinking?” I managed to choke out.
Another guy might’ve turned away from such a proposal, but this wasHeathcliff. His eyes blazed, boring into mine like they intended to flush out a bit of my soul. “I’ve already texted Quoth to tell him to head straight to Baddesley Hall after he closes the shop. If you want to finish what we started, you should wait until Lydia is asleep and sneak into our room tonight.”
“Okay,” I whispered, my heart in my throat.
Behind Heathcliff, the ballroom doors burst open. Attendees spilled out, chatting and laughing, demonstrating their dance moves to each other. Waiters swept in to offer refreshments, and maids ducked into the ballroom to clean up after the session. The noise swirled around us, bouncing off the high roof. All I saw was Heathcliff’s dark eyes boring into mine, devouring me. Heat pooled between my legs as I accepted the promise of what I would receive tonight from my three fictional men.
Chapter Thirteen
“A couple just left the shop. The wife wore her Regency finery and informed me they were in the village for the festival. She trotted around the shop, exclaiming over every little thing, and ended up buying that complete set of Folio Society Austen from your display for £150. The husband dragged his feet after her, weighed down by shopping bags. He leaned over the counter with a look of utter despair and asked if we any books in the craft section about how to build a gun, as he wished to shoot himself in the head. On a positive note, absolutely no one has quoted ‘The Raven’ today, and I look forward with rare and radiant anticipation to seeing you later this evening.”
After speaking with Heathcliff, I found Quoth’s text on my phone. It only increased the maelstrom of excitement and nerves swirling around inside my stomach.
I barely heard a word the rest of the day. I sat through two more lectures with Heathcliff’s invitation blaring inside my skull. Every time Morrie brushed past me in the hall, his hand grazed the small of my back.
Our VIP tickets included dinner. I was tempted to skip it, but Heathcliff pointed out that if we skipped out on Lydia, she’d likely drag us back by our ears or worse, sit by herself and blab all our secrets.
As we took our seats, Heathcliff’s hand brushed my thigh under the table, and my breath hitched.
Morrie, not to be outdone, dropped his fork on the floor. “Whoops, I’m such a butterfingers.” His eyes sparkled as he slid under the table, his body hidden from the others by the floor-length tablecloth. As I reached for the bread basket, hands frantically flung up my skirt and shoved aside my underwear. I yelped as Morrie buried his face between my legs.
“Something wrong?” Cynthia looked at me in concern.
“Nothing, nothing.” I held up my wine glass. “The wine was just er… warmer than I expected.”
I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t…
Morrie’s tongue twirled over my clit, like a ballerina taking the stage for a breathtakingfouetté. The sheer audacity of what he was doing combined with that relentless rhythm sent my head spinning and my body pulsing with an ache that needed to be sated. I tried to pick up my knife to butter my bread, but Morrie pounded the flat of his tongue against me and ended up swiping the butter across the front of Heathcliff’s jacket.
Oh Isis oh Isis his tongue…
“…Grey likes to joke that I’m his Lady Catherine de Bourgh, but I really do think my personality is more in tune with the kind-hearted and quiet nature of Anne Elliot, do you agree, Mina?”
“Um…” I gasped, gripping the edge of the table as heat pooled in my stomach. Morrie fed the growing ache inside me, driving me closer… closer…
