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July 14 - July 15, 2024
Brothers, born on the same day, in the same hour, at the same minute to different women. The high-priced courtesan. The seamstress. The soldier’s widow. Born on the same day, in the same hour, at the same minute to the same man.
Oh?
“Ah, so you haven’t given up on a husband.” “Hope springs eternal,” she said. He nearly laughed at the dry words. Nearly.
Lmaooooo
“If I were going to take advantage of you, I would approach from the front, Felicity Faircloth. In full view, so you would have the joy of expecting me,” he said.
HELLOOOOO
“I saw him with a lock of it in his filthy paw. I heard him describe it. Like silk. And I heard you cry out when he pulled it.” He paused, his throat working to keep words back. Words that came anyway. “He touched it. And I haven’t.”
SQUEALINGGGGG
“Placing her under our protection?” That bit had been unexpected. Born of his own fury at the idea that she might have been hurt on their streets, and his frustration that he couldn’t carry her to his bed and keep her there for a night. Or two. Or more.
Oh he's gone for her
There had been shoes and stockings and gloves and undergarments—she blushed at the memory of them, each piece edged with ribbons in a pink so vibrant it seemed scandalous. I like pink, she’d told him earlier in the week.
INSANE.
“My apologies. I’m sure we should not be discussing . . . those.” “Never apologize for discussing those.” Another pause, and then he said, wicked and soft, “Are they pink?” Her mouth dropped open. “I don’t think I should tell you that.” He did not seem to care. “You like pink.” She’d never been so grateful for the shadows in her life. “I do.” “And so? Are they?” “Yes.” She could barely hear the whispered word. “Good.”
GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE
“I said it was a gift from my acquaintance Sesily. She’s quite scandalous.”
AYYYYY bombshell easter egg!
She barely turned her head. “I suppose this looks rather damning.” He was grateful for the darkness, as it hid the twitch at his lips.
I love them your honour
“You think you can help us?” He gave a little, humorless laugh. “What will you do, pick their locks?” Her back went stick-straight, and he hated the thread of guilt that came with the hurt in her eyes. “You’re no kind of help. You think this is a game; you think the darkness a shining new toy. Well, here is your most important lesson—the darkness isn’t for princesses. It is time for you to return to your storybook tower. Don’t come back.”
BRUH....
“Tell me, Devil, what shall you do to keep me away? Lock the doors?” What in . . . Was she provoking him? Did she have any idea who he was? What kind of man he was? He moved to dismount. To approach her and— Christ. He wanted to kiss her senseless.
LMFAOOOO THIS IS SCRUMPTIOUS
“It’s strange. All those times we’ve met in darkness, and I’ve only ever seen you in sunlight.”
AAAAAAA!!!!!
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful blush?” Red crept to her cheeks. “No.” “You do—it makes me think of summer berries and sweet cream.” She looked down at her lap. “You shouldn’t—” “It makes me wonder what I can’t see that has gone pink. It makes me wonder if all that pink tastes as sweet as it looks.” “You shouldn’t—” “I know your lips are sweet—your nipples, too. Did you know they are the same color? That pretty pink perfection.”
HELLO!?!?!?!?!??!
“Marwick isn’t my moth.” “Who, then?” “You,” she whispered. He was already moving toward her, fire already consuming him, knowing he’d never survive it.
LET'S GOOOOO
She arched toward him as his fingers retreated. “Devil, please.” “Devon.” She met his gaze, clear and beautiful and full of something she did not quite recognize. “What?” “Call me Devon.”
SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP
“Devon?” He shook his head, barely glancing at her. “I shouldn’t have told you that.” “Why not?” “Because it’s not for you.”
NOW WHY'D HE HAVE TO RUIN IT
She laughed when she came. He’d never known a woman to give herself over to pleasure like that. So fully, so completely that her pleasure poured from her in pure, unadulterated joy. For the rest of his life, he would remember the sound of her laughter in that garden, shared with him and the setting sun and the trees and nothing else. For the rest of his life, he would dream of the taste of her pleasure and the sound of it. He was ruined by her.
GODDDDDD
They did not have to crane when she let her hand fly, nor did they have to strain to hear the wicked crack of her palm against his cheek.
GOOD.
“Tell me,” she said, letting the words come, angry and forceful. “Tell me something true, you liar.” So he did the only thing he could do. He cut her loose from this world that did not deserve her. He set her free. He lied. “You were the perfect revenge.”
NAURRRRRR
And his love, his beautiful, spinster, wallflower lockpick, she did not cry. Instead she lifted her chin and said, calm as a queen, “You deserve the darkness.” And she left him to it.
YEOWCH!!!!!
The money was one thing. But the lockpicks were everything.
AHHHHHH!!!!!
