I bet you could, my mind snarls.

Christ, I don’t want to think like an arsehole. It’s bad enough to see my mates showing each other naked pictures of their girlfriends. The idea of being someone like that makes my skin crawl.

Kiki plays with a lock of her hair and—shocker—purrs, “Long week. Lots of finals.”

“No offense, but I’d rather be alone tonight. Tell you what, I’ll give you a bottle and we’ll take a rain check. I’ll make shite company, anyway.”

This may or may not be the understatement of the millennium. I grab one bottle and head straight to my car. I rev up the engine, but it’s coughing. That’s just grand. A trip to the mechanic is exactly what my overdraft has ordered. I see Kath inching toward my car through the window, waving the second bottle in the air, and I slam my foot against the gas pedal, trying to start the car.

Come on, come on, come on.

Her hand is on the door handle. It’s like in a horror film. Will he or won’t he? I twist the keys back and forth in the ignition as she opens the door and slips in.

“Me again,” she sing-songs, tucking the bottle between her bare legs for balance.

I punch the wheel, staring forward.

“I said I—”

“I don’t care,” she snaps. “I know you’re going to be a miserable sod. I want to be there for you, anyway.”

At my house, I open one bottle and we pass it between us at my dining table, filling our tea mugs to the brim. It’s pissing outside, and suddenly, I hate Tolka, and Ireland, and myself. No wonder Rory doesn’t want anything to do with us. All of us. She’s better off not knowing what kind of person her da was. Let’s just say there’s a reason Kathleen wasn’t particularly heartbroken when he died.

Stop making excuses for Rory. She’s a world-class cunt who didn’t even tell you before aborting your child.

Her body, her choices, I remind myself. A heads-up would’ve been nice, though. I could’ve pleaded my case. Weighed our options. Popped the question.

Whoa, time to put the liquor down.

“You look like you need another one. Let me take care of that.” Kathleen pats my arm, filling my mug for the third time, the vodka sloshing over.

I notice she doesn’t drink hers. Hardly a surprise. Kiki has never been much of a drinker. I stop and wonder why she said she needed a drink in the first place, then decide I’m too busy drowning in self-pity and alcohol to decode her behavior.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?” I growl into my already half-empty mug. I polished off my first two servings like they were water.

She sits across from me, shaking her head.

“I think I know what it’s about, and it’d only gut me to learn more. I’m exercising self-control.”

“Glad one of us can,” I mutter, thinking about the stupid letters.

I’ll never live them down. Now I truly know I’ll never sell a song. The risk of becoming known and having her leak those letters is simply one I cannot take.

“You don’t deserve this.” Kiki leans forward and rubs my shoulder.

“Trust me, I do.” I laugh to the ceiling. “I made a fool of myself. That’s on me.”

“You could never be a fool, Mal. You’re the smartest, most talented man I’ve ever met.”

“You should change your social circle then, milady.” I raise the mug in the air, tossing its remaining contents into my mouth in one go.

Everything is spinning—white and slow and sluggish. The air is heavy, stuffy, suffocating. I feel like I’m at the bottom of a murky pool.

At first, I don’t notice when Kath slides onto my lap. It’s only when her arms circle my neck, heavy as a noose, that I blink and rear my head back, away from her mouth.

“Kiki,” I groan. “No.”

“Shhh, Mal. Let me take care of you.”

She grabs the back of my neck and squeezes my face to her chest, pushing her tits together. It’s nice. She has big tits. Bigger than Rory’s. They’re soft and warm against my nose and mouth. They smell of a flowery perfume and a bit of sweat.

Kath runs her fingers through my hair, kissing the top of my head. My ear. My cheek.

“Your sister. I love her,” I grunt into her rack.

Her cleavage is wide open for me. I dip my tongue in the crack between her tits, tasting her salty skin, how wrong it is in my mouth, and it reminds me why I haven’t bedded anyone since Rory left.

Kathleen doesn’t say a word. She pops one of her tits free of her bra and moves her pebbled nipple across my cheek.

“I don’t want to fuck you,” I say bluntly, pulling my head back.

It’s the truth, but I’m still hard. Because she’s here, and she is soft, and she is wanting—something Princess Aurora of New Jersey isn’t. Every part of Kathleen is hot, not cold like Rory is, but it’s easy to ignore that when you’re bollocksed. Especially as there’s a part of Kathleen that’s Rory, too—a chunk of DNA and genes that Rory could never take away from this village. From me. Kiki is right here, in Tolka, ready for me to screw her to death. And I’m hard, so fecking hard I’m straining against my Dickie’s.

Oh, how I wish I were more like Daniel or Sean or Jake or any of my mates who could just sleep with Kiki because she is here.

“Get off,” I huff, shaking my head. “Please, darlin’. You’re better than what you’re doing right now.”

But Kathleen’s hands are everywhere. They’re on my chest and shoulders and back and face. They cup my jaw, and she dips down and kisses me, deep and punishing and cruel. With tongue and hatred and frustration. She kisses me like I did something horrible to her, and now I need to pay.

My head spins like a broken roundabout. I mumble, “Stop. Stop. Stop.”

She presses her palm against my hard-on and squeezes. “If you didn’t want it, you wouldn’t be hard.”

“Younedda stop,” I slur.

She unbuckles my belt, ignoring my command. My mind is a gray fog of floating thoughts, but I still manage to put things together. Her new fondness for short skirts and dresses makes for easy access. She planned this all along. And she always brings something to eat and alcohol when she is over. Coincidence? I think not.

I feel her warm, wet cunt descending over my throbbing cock.

“Kathleen, I don’t want to fuck you,” I repeat, as coherently as I possibly can.

The thought of this happening makes me sick. Because I know Rory would never take me if she knew I slept with her sister. Selfishly, that is the first reason, with the second being I don’t want to hurt or delude Kiki.

“You are fucking me,” she hisses, licking the length of my neck. “And you’re going to continue until you come.”

She slides up, then down, building friction, and my balls tighten.

“No.”

“Yes. Mal, I’m so wet for you,” she says.

And it is true. She is the wettest I’ve ever had, I think.

Fuck Rory.

Fuck Rory who fucked me over, thinking we were only just a fuck.

I’m shagging her sister now, and they say revenge tastes sweet, but the bitterness that explodes on my tongue is so tangible, I want to puke.

Kathleen’s cunt, however, is not at all bitter. She is straddling me fully now, moving slowly and deliciously up and down my shaft. I hear the slap of our thighs together. Feel the slick of her wetness, her juices dampening my pubic hair. She moans into my mouth, her lips sweet and sharp. She bites my lip and makes me bleed as she clenches around me.