RIOT HOUSE (Crooked Sinners #1) - Callie Hart Page 0,10

She knew she was cornered and there was no way out. No sooner had she realized her situation than she accepted it, though. Her breath quickened further, this time from excitement. There was something to be said about relinquishing control of oneself to a monster in a black top hat, and now that he was fast approaching with such a look of menace in his eyes, the governess discovered that she wasn’t as afraid of her undeniable fate as she had first thought. She witnessed the threatening bulge of his staff, pressing against the front of his trousers. She saw the way he groped at himself, squeezing himself in the most lurid way, and surprised as she was, she knew that she was wet between her legs, her cunny slick with want as…”

Doctor Fitzpatrick cuts off, dropping his hands to his sides. Exasperated, he shakes his head. “Honestly, I have to say I’m impressed with the prose. Great use of the word lurid. And cunny? You must have had to look that one up, Jacobi.”

All eyes turn to Wren.

Of course he wrote it. I am the most unsurprised person in the world. It totally tracks that this devil in a black t-shirt handed in Victorian porn as his English assignment. He doesn’t look the slightest bit remorseful as he levels his steady gaze on the doc. “I did,” he says. “The Internet’s a remarkable place. All kinds of weird shit, if you know what you’re looking for.”

“You do realize that this piece was supposed to be on the Victorian sense of morality, right?” Doctor Fitzpatrick asks.

Wren shrugs. “I do. And they had none. The Victorians were just as horny, depraved and dirty as we are. They were just better at hiding it. There were just as many filthy books about fucking back then as there were books about sweet, subjugated women who lived by strict rules of propriety. They just didn’t get the same kind of press.”

“So, you’re saying woman were painted as weak, subjugated creatures in a lot of Victorian literature?”

Wren sighs wearily, like he shouldn’t have to explain any of this. “I’m not saying it. It’s what happened. Austin made out like women back then were virtuous, good, wholesome creatures who never once thought about getting laid. It was all a lie, Fitz. Women have liked to get fucked since the dawn of time, just like guys. The fact that the Victorians used to guard that little tidbit like it was some huge fucking secret makes them even kinkier than us.”

Doctor Fitzpatrick’s eyebrows inch up. I think he’s unimpressed by Wren’s argument, but also grudgingly impressed by it, too. Tossing the paper at Wren, the doc sends the sheaf of paper fluttering down to the boy’s feet. “Do it again. Forty-eight hours, Jacobi. Stick to the assignment brief or you’ll find yourself doing it over for a third time. This will be your Groundhog Day of essays until you do it right. And no curse words. You should know by now that shock tactics won’t work with me.”

Wren leaves his assignment on the thin Persian rug at his feet. Most guys would be irritated by the fact that they had to rewrite an essay from the beginning, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s taking the whole thing completely in stride. “Shock tactics work on everyone. I just haven’t found the right level of shocking for you yet, Fitz. I’m nothing if not persistent. Leave it with me. I’ll figure it out before the end of term.”

God, this guy’s a pro at concocting statements that sound like thinly disguised threats. I wonder if he speaks this way to his parents. My father would knock my head off my shoulders if I dared speak to him or any of my teachers that way. Wren might have army personnel for folks, but we must have had a very different upbringing if he knows he can get away with this shit.

Doctor Fitzpatrick smiles wide, pinching his tongue between his teeth as he turns away from Wren Jacobi, inhales deeply, and faces the rest of the class. “All right, kids. We’re starting a new game today. Who wants to volunteer?” His gaze alights on me, and he comically slaps his hand to his forehead. “Ah shit. We have a newcomer in our midst. I totally forgot. Fuck, I made cookies, too. Elllloiiiise, right?” he says, wincing at me.

Eloise is a common one. I’ve had all sorts, though. Emily. Evelyn. Elena. Apparently, my