Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Carter
“All I’m saying is, you have two whole weeks. Plenty of time for another party.”
It’s getting harder to laugh off Preston’s constant party talk. “I’m starting to think you only hang around me for the parties.” I slowly swim past him, splashing him once I’m close enough.
“That’s pretty low,” he rumbles, running his fingers through his hair to comb it back from his forehead. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.”
“Don’t get all bitchy on me.” I glance over at his twin, hanging out on one of the lounge chairs, and he only shakes his head slowly.
“He just wants to live through you since we can’t get away with the same shit you do,” Easton explains. “Your dad gives you more room than ours.”
“Which is totally fucking backward when you think about what he does for a living.” Preston starts floating on his back, slowly paddling his way down the length of the pool.
“After all the work it took to clean up from the last party, I’m not trying to go through that again so soon.” I’m tired of talking about this. It’s easy for the people who wouldn’t end up with no car for a week or two if they got caught to complain. He’s not really complaining, though. He’s bored. Easton is bored. I’m bored. Which is why we’re hanging out at the pool on a Monday afternoon, bullshitting and sharing a 12-pack of beer.
For some reason, nothing is satisfying me today. I spent the morning trying to settle on something to do, something to pass the time since today was a holiday and classes were canceled. I’m restless and not in the best mood. Why I thought having friends over would be a good idea, I don’t remember. I’m not good company.
And I know exactly why.
Why can’t I stop thinking about her for just one damn day? I haven’t even seen her, and I’m not complaining. Every time I think about her running away from me yesterday, bitter heat swells in me, and I want nothing more than to break down her door and drag her out of that room by her hair. Why can’t she let me be nice to her? That’s all I was trying to do. She threw it in my face.
“You should at least invite some girls over,” Easton suggests while his brother nods hard. “Things don’t have to get crazy, but it would be fun to hang out, maybe order some pizza or whatever. It’s a holiday. We should be celebrating.”
“Who do you have in mind?” Do I want to do that? I want nothing less than to play host today. Having a couple of friends over is one thing, but expanding the guest list? Still, I feel like I have to play along. Maybe it would help my mood in the end.
“Definitely not Tiana and her crew.” Preston rolls his eyes once he finishes his lazy backstroke and pushes himself up until he’s perched on the edge of the pool with his legs dangling. “She’s not worth the energy. I heard what they did to your sister’s bathroom.”
I don’t know what bothers me more: remembering the mess she made or hearing Elliana referred to as my sister. “Stepsister,” I mutter before I wave a hand. “Yeah, I warned her not to pull that shit again. She’s not invited over here anymore.”
“I don’t know, though.” Easton strokes his chin, smirking. “She does have some hot friends.”
“Not worth it,” I mutter, narrowing my eyes as I think back on how surprised she had the nerve to seem when I challenged her. “So get rid of that idea. We know plenty of hot girls.”
“All I know is, I wouldn’t mind seeing some tits today.” Easton even sighs like it’s some mystical goal.
“What, you forget porn exists?” I ask with a smirk.
Preston blurts out a laugh. “Him? It would be like asking if he forgot oxygen exists.”
“I don’t need porn. I can get pussy whenever I want.”
I’m getting tired of this conversation. “Anyway, I’m still recovering from the fucking wedding. It’s a shame you guys weren’t there. There were a ton of girls around. Daughters of the women Irene wants to be friends with.” It’s immature, but I can’t help gagging when I say her name.
“And I bet all those old ladies wanted you to hook up with their daughters,” Preston teases with a laugh. “God, weddings are the best for getting laid. It’s a shame you couldn’t score invites for us.”
“I know Dad would’ve liked it if some of my friends could’ve made it—anything to get me in a better mood about the day. But he already had to shell out a fortune to get all of Irene’s guest list in there.” Not like she knew a lot of the people. The whole thing is still too sad and pathetic.
Easton sits up a little straighter and cranes his neck, and I’m about to ask what called his attention when I notice movement out of the corner of my eye. Inside the kitchen, just on the other side of the floor to ceiling bay windows.
There goes that hot, bitter sensation. She’s using the blender, making a smoothie. Instead of a sweater today, she’s wearing a sweatshirt, and it’s big enough that it hangs halfway down her thighs. The rest of her legs are covered in jeans, and her hair hangs down around her face as usual, but she can’t hide the way she peers out from behind those limp locks from the corner of her eye.
Oh, the sneaky little bitch. Probably figured she could get away with coming down to the kitchen since I’m out here with the guys. Hiding, as always, shoulders up around her ears.
And she’s the one who walked off on me yesterday. What does that say about me? My jaw is aching from all the teeth grinding I’m doing.
“Tell me she wore something better than that for the wedding,” Easton groans.
“I noticed her at your party,” Preston muses. Like his brother, he’s staring into the kitchen. Neither of them bother hiding their interest. I’m sure it’s making her skin crawl. “She’s got a great body under all that shit she wears.”
“Don’t say that.” Fuck me. Where did that come from? The two of them look at me with their mouths hanging open, telling me they’re just as surprised as I am. “She’s fucking gross. I thought you had better taste than that.”
“We have different definitions of gross if she’s yours,” Preston tells me with a laugh. “She’s got a great ass. Nice legs, too—a shame she always hides them.”
Am I in hell? What did I do to deserve this? “You both need medication or something if that’s your idea of remotely fuckable.” And now I don’t even want to swim anymore. There’s no reason for me to feel this uncomfortable. Nothing that makes any sense, anyway. I only know I don’t want to be around these two anymore.
I’m trying to come up with an excuse to get rid of them as I push myself up out of the pool, but there’s really nothing I can say that they won’t question. So instead, I settle on telling the truth. “I’m not really feeling this. I don’t feel great in general.”
“You don’t seem like you feel right.” There’s no judgment from Preston, or from Easton, when he grunts in agreement. “It’s cool. Go jerk off or something. It’ll make you feel more relaxed.”
“Not everything is about that.” Though right now, it seems like this is about that—at least a little. There’s this unreal tension tearing at me. I don’t know what to do about it, what to do about her. Can I have a single day when I don’t have to talk about her or acknowledge she exists?
Not like it matters, since she’s always on my mind. Especially today. I should’ve known better than to try to be nice to her. Who the hell does she think she is, acting like she’s better than me?
Instead of going to the house, the guys walk around the outside to reach the car they left in the driveway. I can hear the engine as they pull out of the drive while I open the sliding glass door leading into the kitchen.
“I’m just cleaning up after myself. I’m not trying to get in the way or anything.” She won’t look at me as she washes out the blender.
“You already did.”
She slows down until the sponge is barely moving inside the glass carafe. “What are you saying? I didn’t do anything.”
“Right. Keep telling yourself that.”
For some reason, she has this idea now that she can show me her temper whenever she feels like it. Her hands slap the counter before she spins around, eyes narrowed behind those ugly glasses. “Do me a favor, please. Stop blaming me for everything that goes wrong in your life. It’s starting to get boring.”
“The only thing that went wrong in my life today is the way you paraded yourself around in front of the window to get Preston and Easton’s attention.”
“What?” She blurts out a laugh before covering her mouth with her hand, and the gesture only pisses me off worse than ever. Who the fuck is she laughing at—me? “Is that really what you think I was doing? You need help, seriously.”
She has forgotten who is in charge around here, and that’s on me. I’ve made life too easy for her lately. I’ve been too nice, trying to relate to her for some stupid reason. She’s not worth the effort.
She barely has time for her eyes to widen before I’m on her, pinning her against the counter and leaning in until she has to bend backward. That arrogant gleam in her eye is extinguished like a candle flame in a sudden breeze. She’s pretty tough when she thinks she can get away with shit, isn’t she? Call her bluff, and she’s a trembling, whimpering little nothing. The way I’ve always known she is.
But even now, she can’t let go of this fake defiance. “Tell me exactly how I was showing myself off when I’m wearing a sweatshirt that covers half my body.” It doesn’t matter that her chin trembles when she lifts it. She lifts it in the first place, which is enough of a problem. I have let things go too far. “Tell me. What was I doing wrong? I wouldn’t want to do it again.”
“Keep it up,” I warn, leaning in close enough that I can see her pulse fluttering in her neck. “See how far it gets you?”
This isn’t enough. Having her this close, watching fear darken her brown eyes until they’re almost black. All it does is make me want more of her fear. I need her trembling. I crave the satisfaction of her submission once she understands she can’t fight me.
“You know what?” Reaching down, I take hold of my dick through my swim shorts. I’m thickening, twitching a little more with every flutter in her throat. “I’m feeling a little stressed. I need you to help me relax.”
Her face was flushed, but now the color drains from it, which only adds fuel to the fire. “You know what always relaxes me?” Taking a step back, I look down at myself—stiffer by the second, looking for something warm and wet. “And you did so good the last time. Get on your knees.”
“I don’t want to,” she whispers, folding her arms and trembling.
“Remind me when I asked whether you want to or not. Get on your fucking knees, or everybody is gonna have a lot to say about your photo shoot when we go back to school tomorrow.”
“You’re disgusting,” she spits out, teeth bared. “What was that all about yesterday, trying to be friends? Why do that if you’re going to treat me this way today?”
You ruined it first . I almost have to bite off my tongue to keep from throwing that in her face. She can’t know how she offended me. I can’t act like some whiny little bitch.
She hisses in what sounds like pain when I use my free hand to take her by the back of the neck and force her down until she gets on her knees with a grunt. “That’s right. Show me your attitude,” I mutter, reaching into my shorts to pull my dick free. “Give me more of a reason to fuck your face.”
The thought of that brings me the closest thing to peace I have felt in days, and it’s what makes me run my swollen head over her mouth once I’m out of my shorts. She can try all she wants to turn away, but it’s no use.
All it takes is a little extra pressure on her neck to remind her how pointless it is to fight. She finally opens her mouth and as soon as her lips are parted, I shove my way inside.
I don’t know what’s better: the warmth all around me or her miserable groan when I hit the back of her throat. Maybe it’s a blend of both. My eyes close slowly as I adjust to the sensation, buried deep. “Fuck, that’s good,” I whisper, and her disgusted grunt makes me smile to myself before I pull back a few inches, then drive myself forward again with no warning. She finds my thighs with both hands and slaps at them, but that’s easy to ignore, especially when it feels so damn good to use her.
“I’m glad I found something you’re good for,” I mutter before hunger takes over. I’m not interested in taking it slow, drawing out the experience. Fuck that.
Her choked whimper is music to my ears. I want more of it. That’s what makes me take her head in my hands and hold it still so I can pummel her with deep, hard strokes that make her gag and groan pitifully. When I look down and find her face going red, eyes watering, it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Her misery is exquisite. And I want more. So much more.
“This is what you were looking for?” My hips move fast, invading her again and again, and now her fingers curl into claws, which she drags over my legs like that’s going to do anything to stop me. If her high-pitched whimpers don’t do it, why would a few scratches?
“Take it,” I grunt between ragged breaths. “This is what you wanted. Walking around here. Making sure you’re noticed. This is what you get.”
I drive deep, staying buried, with her nose pressed against the base of my cock. Now she’s shrieking with her mouth full, almost slicing me open with those nails, but I savor the feeling of being completely wrapped in heat and in charge of whether she breathes or passes out.
Finally, I take mercy, pulling my hips back, letting her breathe through her nose again. “I’m not finished,” I mutter when her body starts to relax. Is it saliva that’s dripping onto my balls or is it her tears? Both, I hope. Nobody rejects me when I’m trying to be nice. I won’t make that mistake again.
And then she does it. She looks up at me; her glasses crooked, her eyes swimming with tears, and the sight takes the tension that was already building and makes it explode all at once.
“Here it comes!” I manage to gasp before slamming deep again and filling her throat while she gags on me. “Swallow it. Swallow every fucking drop or you’ll lick it off the floor,” I warn, while waves of bliss roll through me. The satisfaction is unreal, so intense it makes my knees shake.
When I’m finished, balls drained, I pull out with a regretful sigh. “I’m sorry that’s over,” I tell her as I back away so I can gaze down at her tearful face, still red. Her chin is coated with spit, eyes watery.
She gets up right away and turns toward the sink, taking off her glasses to rinse her face and her mouth. “So is that it?” she asks after spitting out a mouthful of water.
“Is what it?” Still, there’s defiance in her voice. What do I have to do to break that defiance?
She turns her head, meeting my gaze, her reddened eyes narrowed. “Is that the price of living in this house while our parents are gone?”
“You know what? I like the sound of that.” I wait just long enough to watch her face fall when she realizes she gave me an idea, then leave the kitchen, whistling softly. I started this day in a shit mood, but suddenly, things have improved.