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Now, here we are, 10ish months and one completed book series later and while I am beyond happy to have finished it, I feel as though my tie to them has ended. There goes my reason for distant observation with zero communication. My reason for staring and observing and hypothesizing. Now if I do it, I won’t be able to rationalize my obsession with them.
It was only for the book,I tell myself.Yeah, right Bitch. Whatever you say.
CHAPTER TWO
Hourslater,I’mdolledup and dressed all sorts of slutty per my sister’s demands. I have on my, “I’m ready to party” face like the mask of lies it is. I don’t want to go out at all. I meant it when I said I wanted to drink and read a book. That’s my idea of a good time. I may have been a party girl 7 years ago, before Elliot, but I was also 21 and finally free from our overprotective parents.
I was the perfect daughter all throughout my adolescence, and even throughout college. While they paid for school, I was to live with my parents and stay under their watchful eyes, forever being the perfect, cookie-cutter daughter of Virginia’s Governor, Sterling Duncan.
My sisters Poppy, Lily, and I, Violet, all named after the flowers in mom’s sprawling garden behind our original Colonial Revival, have had a role to play since we were born. Three daughters of the affluent politician, who have always been expected to look and behave in a certain way, under his strict rule. I kept my shit together for the majority of my life, but as soon as I graduated college, I gave them the middle finger and moved out, following Lily to New York. We’ve lived here ever since, and we love it.
I was so fucking tired of being perfect. I was good at being what they wanted on the outside. I was demure, reserved, always put together, well-educated and so damn good at taking orders. At least, that’s what they all believed. But on the inside, I wasfucking dying.
I wanted to scream my head off more than anything. I wanted to punch my arrogant, abusive father in the goddamned balls. I wanted to slap my simpering mother in the face and demand she wake the fuck up and get out of her miserable relationship with my controlling, misogynistic father. I wanted to pack up my sisters and fuck right off to anywhere else.
That’s not what I did though. I bided my time, played the perfect angel, got my inheritance at 21 upon graduating college, and dipped. I considered the payment as a thank you from my dear sweet daddy for all the bullshit I endured.
When I was finally free from them, I used some of the money on an apartment and some of it on partying. I partied so hard and lived so free that I almost forgot who I was.Almost.Then, one night, at a party, I met Elliot. And down the rabbit hole, I went. We were in love almost immediately. He swept me off my feet.
Fresh out of college, in a party stage of his own. Rebelling as I was. We had a whirlwind romance the first two years. He was sweet, caring, doting, and fun. He was playful but knew how to make me feel loved and special. My parents were never big on affection, so getting it from Elliot, my first boyfriend, was a new experience for me. I took everything he had to offer and reveled in it.
Then, we fell out of the party scene and began to grow up together. He chose to work for his father’s Law firm, and I chose to use more of my inheritance to open a coffee shop. Fuck if I was going to be working any type of stuffy corporate or political job like my father wanted. I wanted to follow my dreams, and Elliot supported that.
We were married shortly after my shop opened. Things were wonderful, if not for a little boring between us sometimes, but I was happy. Until I wasn’t. He changed. He became more and more like my father. Apparently, success can really bring the dick out in a man. The more he succeeded at the firm, the more uptight he became. Away went my sweet, funny husband and entered Sterling DuncanJunior. The only difference was that Elliot never raised a hand to me. As much of an asshole as he became to the outside world, he just became indifferent towards me.
A year and a half before we separated, he chose to open his own firm with another lawyer from his father’s firm. He worked more and more, and we became distant. Our sex life, which was once loving and simple, became nonexistent. Our sex life was never what I wanted it to be, but more often than not, I chose to settle for what it was just for the sake of having sex with my husband. I tried everything I could think of to spice things up, but it never worked. He just was not into what I wanted,I thought. Then it got to the point where I stopped trying altogether.
The emotional distance between us was just too much for me to consider being physical with him. The longer we went without it, the more I realized I didn’t want to fuck him anymore. I was just as content to get my rocks off by myself and while I assumed he was jacking himself off on the regular, I also had a feeling someone else was doing it for him as well.
Apparently, I was correct.
So here we are. I’m a 27-year-old divorcee, who’s only ever had sex with the one man I gave it up to. I’ve only ever had vanilla sex, but I read smutty novels and am a closet kink. I have fantasies about getting railed by three men at once.
I was once a silent fixture on the wall, turned party girl, only to become the silent fixture once more. In the past almost year since my separation turned divorce, I have been trying to find a middle ground. I have worked on myself abundantly and have found that in lieu of dropping ecstasy and getting blackout drunk, I enjoy glasses of wine on my couch.
I have discovered that I love to be the social butterfly all day while running my coffee shop, but I also love to be the introvert while in my own little world at home. I went from a safe and boring, loveless, vanilla marriage to drooling over three untouchable, bad boys and dreaming of a gang bang while having been celibate for almost two years.
Yeah, I’m still working on finding that sexual middle ground apparently.
The funniest part is that while I seem like a quiet, proper lady who probably radiates “born with a silver spoon up my ass” vibes, I am secretly depraved. The thoughts in my head both during the day and at night are questionable, to say the least. I don’t know if the sexual desires I have are born from a lifetime of being sheltered in all manners, a lack of sexual experiences, or all the above, but the desires remain in my head just the same.
I am a confident woman, and I am also a proud woman. I know my worth and I know my strength. These are the qualities that are a lucky byproduct of my upbringing. However, no matter how badass I may feel as a woman, I am still not bold enough to walk up to my three wet dreams. So, I wrote about them instead and in my book, they will remain. I may always have to read it one-handed, but hey, girls have needs too.
CHAPTER THREE
“Whywon’tyoutellme where we’re going?” I whine to my sisters once I settle in the backseat of Lily’s black Range Rover.
Poppy and Lily glance at each other and give a conspiratorial look. I’ve been asking in our group text for the last two hours and they refuse to tell me what the plan is for tonight. My sister-in-law Remi is behind the wheel acting as our DD since she can’t drink. She and Lily did their second round of IVF and Remi is currently pregnant with their second child, since my sister carried their first.
They have a little boy, Benji at home and baby girl Everly will be here in four months. Remi and Lily are the sweetest couple in the world. They make me believe in happily ever afters and true love. I know it’s out there, even if I didn’t find it in my ex-husband.
Lily is my older sister by 1 year and she was the first one to leave our hellhole of a nest. She didn’t necessarily leave our family by choice though. When she came out at the age of 16, my parents made her life horrible. My Conservative father all but disowned her after that. She was given the choice to follow the family rules and lifestyles, including marrying an Ivy Leagueboysomeday or get out.
So, when she graduated High School, she fucked right off. I had never looked up to someone more in my entire life than I did her at that moment. But, as much as I hated my life and parents for what they did to her, I chose to stay, and I stayed for both of my sisters.
Lily was cut off after moving out, and her inheritance was threatened. I knew that by staying I could watch out for our little sister Poppy while waiting for mine to kick in so that I could use the money to take care of both Lily and me if need be. Luckily for Lily, my mother did eventually convince my father to allow Lily her inheritance which she gladly took as restitution, as I did.
Poppy was the last to leave, but she was the baby and was treated differently than Lily and me. She was a daddy’s girl. She followed the plan happily. She married an Ivy boy at 19 and is living the doting wife, cookie-cutter lifestyle. She is lucky in the sense that her husband Justin Gilbert is wonderful to her. Though he may be of similar upbringing to us, he seems to have turned out tremendously different than my father.
