Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
SINCLAIR
T he food is delicious. August ordered an Aperol spritz for me and the server brought it without question, not bothering to card me. It was the perfect drink to accompany the truffle frites and fried artichokes, which were both amazing. The alcohol also calmed my nerves and steadied my shaky breaths. It’s like I can’t breathe when he looks at me. As if he’s trying to see through my clothes, my skin, into the very heart of me. Not that August cares about my heart.
Does he?
But now I’m three spritzes in and feeling as loose as a freaking goose while I nosh on yet another piece of their delicious table bread, praying it soaks up all the alcohol I’ve consumed.
I glance over at August to find him already watching me, his thigh pressed intimately against mine. Like he needs to keep it there so we’re in constant contact. It’s hot. He’s hot. It’s baffling to me how I’ve become the exception. Me . The girl he used to bully and taunt and humiliate. I still don’t get how this happened.
“Tell me about your family.” He slouches against the back of the red leather booth, the epitome of a relaxed, confident man who’s just finished a meal and is now looking at his date as if she has somehow also become a continuation of his meal that he can’t wait to devour. My entire body tingles in anticipation until his question truly sinks in.
Talking about my family is the last thing I want to do.
“I’d rather not.” I rest my hands in my lap and try to put on a demure act, but the gleam in his eyes tells me he’s not buying it. “It’s a boring story.”
“I don’t think anything you say can possibly be what you call a boring story.”
He should not say those sorts of things while looking at me that way. Ugh. He’s infuriating—with a hint of sweet. “You’d hate them.”
“Who?”
“My parents.” I mock shiver like I’m disgusted. “They’re…kind of awful.”
“As awful as I am?” He arches a brow, as sexy as ever.
“You’re awful in a different way.” In a, I want to rub myself all over his body , sort of way. Not that I’d say that out loud. “My father had a startup business that took off and they made a bunch of money in a short amount of time. Then he sold it and made even more money and now they just spend it on the tackiest stuff ever and do all the things that they think they should be doing, but really? They just look like they’re trying too hard and it’s embarrassing.”
“What kind of startup?”
Oh, he would ask that. And that makes this conversation even more embarrassing.
“Um, it involved…athletic gear.” I press my lips together, not wanting to go any further, but I can tell from the look on August’s face he wants to know more.
“Athletic gear? I’m not into sports by any means, but what exactly are you referring to? ”
“Well, it’s not actually gear. It was an—anti-itch cream. For the—” I gesture toward his lap. “—area.”
Realization dawns all over his gorgeous face. “Wait a minute. You’re not talking about Jock Rot, are you?”
I cover my face with my hands, hating that my parents made their fortune on something called Jock Rot. “Maybe?”
“Maybe.” He snickers, reaching toward me and slowly peeling one of my hands away from my face. My cheeks are as hot as an oven, I’m so embarrassed. “Your dad is the guy who invented Jock Rot. I can’t believe it.”
Ignoring his snarky tone, I give him the condensed version of how Jock Rot came to be. “I have a much older brother who played a lot of sports and was always sweaty. And while there are plenty of products on the market, my dad wanted to make something specific for younger athletes, like middle school and high school. He wanted to give it a funny name that would appeal to them, and one day he overheard my brother say to one of his friends that he thought he had jock rot. And my father thought that would be the perfect name to call it.”
August nods, absorbing my explanation. “You’d think they’d call it something else because it sounds like the cream is what’s giving them the rot.”
“But see, the name is what gained the product all the attention. Teenage boys loved saying it, and they were the market he wanted to appeal to. My dad was right when he said he wanted to give it a funny name. It totally worked.
“The company that bought my parents’ business said exactly that. It got famous on social media because of the name but the moment the corporation that bought Jock Rot acquired it, they changed the name almost immediately and sales tanked. My father thinks it’s hilarious,” I explain.
“Your father is probably correct.” August frowns. “Why would they change it? ”
“Because the big box stores refused to have something on their shelves called Jock Rot. It sounds and looks awful.”
August is smiling. Laughing and shaking his head. “How much did dear old Dad get for selling his jock rot?”
“Fifty million or something like that?”
He whistles low, shaking his head. “That’s a lot of money for some crotch anti-itch cream.”
Just hearing him say that out loud is embarrassing. “Do you see why I don’t want to talk about my family?”
“I don’t know. Isn’t your dad proud of the fact that he made that much money?”
“I suppose, but the way they manage their wealth is so over the top. They’re very…” I try to think of a nice word to describe how they are, but nothing comes to mind.
“Nouveau riche?” he offers.
“Yes. That’s it.” A sigh leaves me. “They’re just so obvious. My mom wears every expensive label she can find and is always waving her hands around so people can see how many diamond rings she’s wearing on her fingers. Her wrists. Around her neck. They joined a country club and spend all of their time there. Bought a hideous mansion that’s just obscene and he drives a bright red Porsche.”
“I own a Porsche.”
“You’re twenty-two. He’s like, fifty-five and acting like he’s in college again. I’m surprised he’s not here with me trying to get into the frat parties.” I mock shudder at the thought.
“Sometimes people can act…vulgar when they come into money,” August observes.
“Something you’ve probably never dealt with considering you were born into it?” I don’t fault him for that. He can’t help who his parents are or what family he was born to. I’m sure plenty of people think he’s lucky to have that much wealth. Money solves a lot of problems, but it also creates new ones.
Like how my father can’t keep it in his pants and my mother chooses to look the other way because no way is she leaving him now. She’s earned this. She’s told me that more than once.
“I have my own problems I deal with.” That’s all he says, Mr. Mysterious. And while I’d love to pry more, I remain quiet, staring at my mostly empty dinner plate, my head swimming thanks to the spritzes. And August’s cologne. The press of his hard thigh against mine and how his hand just settled on my leg, warm and heavy. Like a brand on my skin, sizzling into my flesh and marking his territory.
“I feel like I just trauma dumped on you,” I admit, hiding the hiccup that rises up. No more spritzes for me.
“I don’t mind.” He sounds like he means it and when he squeezes my thigh, I sort of want to melt into the booth seat. “I have a confession.”
I’m frowning, my entire body growing tense. I really hope he doesn’t drop a bomb on me. “What is it?”
“I thought this date would be boring. That the most exciting thing that could happen was me staring at your pretty face all night.” He gives me another thigh squeeze, his fingers sliding up higher, and I swear he’s so close to my pussy I’m tempted to spread my legs and allow him access. “But it hasn’t been boring. At all.”
“I’m glad I can entertain you.” My voice has an edge of sarcasm, like I can’t help myself.
“I am too.” He lifts his gaze to mine. “Want to get the hell out of here so I can fuck you in the back seat of the town car?”
I blink at him, my mouth falling open. “August…”
“Yeah, yeah. I know what you said about first date etiquette or whatever the fuck.” He removes his hand from my leg and I immediately miss his touch. “We could make out instead. I could feel you up. Finger you. You could give me a hand job. Or is that moving too fast for a first date?”
My mouth is dry at the images his words conjure up. “Did you pay the check yet? ”
“Already taken care of.” The smug look on his face is practically criminal. He’s so pleased with himself. “Ready to go?”
All I can do is nod my response.
We sit in the back of the car for at least the first fifteen minutes of our drive in complete silence. He’s focused on his phone, texting someone, I don’t know who and I’m too afraid to ask. I read over my notifications, but I’ve got nothing. A few social media things. A text from Elise reminding me that she’s going home for the weekend. Meaning I’ll be in my dorm for the next three days, all alone.
Glancing up, I check on August to find he’s not staring at his phone anymore. No, he’s staring at me with a lazy expression on his face. His eyes are hooded and he’s sprawled across his side of the back seat, taking up every inch of available space. Devastatingly handsome as per usual and I’m fairly certain he undid a couple of the buttons of his shirt, offering me a better view of his glorious chest.
“You should probably stop looking at me like that,” he warns, his voice low. “Unless you want me to attack you.”
Any other man would use the term “attack you” and I’d freak out. With August? I’m ready for it. Dying for it even.
“I don’t know.” I sink my teeth into my lower lip, wondering where I come up with these moves. Pretty sure he brings it out of me. “You don’t want to ruin the dress, do you?”
“I don’t give a fuck.” He starts moving toward me across the seat.
“August.” My voice sharpens. “The dress was over six thousand dollars!”
“So?” He reaches for me, his hands landing on my hips, tugging me closer to him. “Worth every fucking dollar to see you wearing it tonight. ”
“It wasn’t too much?”
“The cost? No. I already told you.” His fingers curl into the dress fabric.
“No. I mean…how it looked on me?” I’m whispering, worried over his answer. It felt like too much. Like I was putting on some sort of show for an audience of one—August. “Did I pass the test?”
He frowns, his grip easing on my waist. “Did you believe I was putting you through some sort of test?”
“I wasn’t sure.” I shrug, wishing I never said anything in the first place. “You can be a little intimidating, August.”
His gaze roves over my face as if he’s trying to memorize every little feature and my entire body grows warm. “It never seemed to bother you before. You’ve had zero problems standing up to me.”
“Things have changed between us. After everything you admitted and I made you ask me on a date.” I’m gnawing on my lower lip again, feeling like a fool. “Do you regret it? You spent a lot of money on me tonight. Do you want the bag back?”
I thrust the bag at him, and he literally tosses it over his shoulder like it’s trash. “Keep the bag. Keep the dress and the shoes but these?” He runs his hand under my dress, fingers skimming over the nylon tights I’m wearing. “I’m afraid I’m going to destroy these.”
His words are a warning and I hold my breath as his hand slides up. Over my hip, shifting to my front, his fingers curling into the waistband of my tights. He tugs with all his might, ripping the thin fabric to shreds with a few jerks and I gasp, my core clenching when he exposes me completely.
“Fucking nuisance,” he mutters as he tears the stockings off my body, removing them completely. He shoves my dress up until it’s bunched at my waist. All of those beautiful sequins bent and misshapen, but I can’t worry about that now. I’m breathing hard, my chest aching, my heart hammering, my skin tingling. The spot between my legs throbs incessantly and when he spreads my legs, he stares at my pussy, licking his lips like he’s already imagining how I taste. “Still bare for me?”
I nod, pressing my lips together, trying to calm the quaking that’s slowly taking over my body. I’ve kept up on the waxing in the hopes that a moment like this might happen again and here we are.
“You have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs, rising up so he’s sitting beside me again, his fingers sliding in between my thighs. “Pink and smooth and so fucking wet.”
I can’t speak. Too overwhelmed with how close he is. He dips his head, his soft lips finding mine, his rough fingers thrusting inside of me at the same time and I cry out, his hungry mouth swallowing the sound. It’s such a juxtaposition, his tender mouth and delicate tongue and those long, rough fingers pushing inside my welcoming body.
His mouth leaves mine, lips drifting downward to kiss my jaw. My neck. His fingers still busily stroking my pussy, the wet sounds of my flesh filling the confines of the car. He’s fully dressed, my lower half completely exposed and it feels dirty, what we’re doing in the back of the car. The partition is up, the driver unaware of what we’re doing, but I bet he has an idea. I should be mortified. I should push August away but I can’t. More than anything…
I don’t want to.
“Is this proper first date etiquette, Sin?” He drifts his mouth along the length of my neck, fingers pinching at my clit and making me squeal.
“N-no.” I shake my head. “Probably not.”
“Want me to stop?” His gaze lifts, those intense blue eyes meeting mine just as his fingers go completely still, cupping my pussy like he owns it.
I shake my head over and over, my entire body trembling with anticipation. “NO! ”
He smiles at my shout, leaning in to kiss me once more as his fingers work their magic on my sensitive flesh. Without thought I reach for him, my hand landing on the bulge beneath his pants, stroking once. Fumbling, really. It’s awkward in the back seat of the car but he makes it seem like it’s easy, his skilled fingers circling over my clit again and again. Tighter and tighter. I suck in a breath, my fingers finding the button of his pants and undoing it so I can shove my hand beneath the fabric and cup his incredibly hard dick.
He ends the kiss, his eyes opening and he pauses, watching me carefully. I don’t remove my hand from his cock. I even try and slip my fingers beneath his boxer briefs so I can touch his bare flesh and he laughs, the bastard. “Greedy little whore.”
There’s a fresh flood of wetness between my legs when he says it and I suppose I should feel ashamed at how I respond to the insult, but I don’t. I like it when he calls me that. When he seems so pleased with my responses and the naughty things I might do. It’s empowering, his approval. Makes me want to earn more of it. To always please him and give him what he wants.
Give myself to him completely.
He removes his fingers from my slick flesh. He stops touching me completely and I open my eyes, fighting the disappointment washing over me. “What are you doing?”
His back is to me as he reaches for the bag he tossed, opening it to peer inside. Within seconds, he’s got my lipstick and he holds it out to me. “Last time I saw one of these, you were throwing it at me.”
I recall the moment with fondness. “You were such a jerk.”
“I told you that lipstick belonged to our housemother.” He twirls the tube of lipstick in between his fingers.
“I find that very hard to believe,” I sigh, gasping when he presses the lipstick against my swollen clit. “What are you doing? ”
“Hmm, toying with you.” His gaze is fixated on my spread legs as he circles my clit with the lipstick. The tube is shaped almost like a bullet, with a narrow lid and he runs it along my slick flesh, pausing at my entrance before he slowly pushes it inside. “Fucking you with the lipstick.”
Oh God. The words. His voice. The lipstick inside my body. It’s not big enough to give me the friction I crave, but it’s still incredibly hot, what he’s doing. He pushes it in and pulls it out, his rhythm slow. As if he has all the time in the world to play with me. I’m whimpering, lifting my hips, wanting more but he’s not focused on me. Well, more like he’s only focused on what he’s doing to my pussy.
Eventually he pulls the tube all the way out, pressing it against my clit once again, circling. Teasing. Playing with me, as he just said.
“You are always so fucking responsive.” His heavy gaze lifts to mine and I go breathless at all the heat I see swirling in the blue depths. “I call you a greedy whore, you’re gushing all over me. I fuck you with a lipstick, and you’re moaning like you’re about to come.”
“I am—about to come,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
He tosses the lipstick away and reaches for me, placing both of his hands on my hips. He pulls me forward until I’m on his lap, my sopping wet pussy nudged against his stiff cock. “Rub against me, baby. Get off on me.”
“Wh-what?” My head is spinning, the scent of my pussy filling the confines of the car. Did he really just ask me to rub against him until I come?
His hands are on my ass, tilting my body forward, his mouth brushing against mine as he speaks. “Use me. Get me wet, Sin. Let me feel your cunt spasm when you come all over me.”
I could come just from his words, they’re so hot. I toss my head back, gripping his shoulders as I begin to do exactly what he told me to do. Grinding against his rigid erection, riding him like a cowgirl and lifting my hips up and down. Mashing my pussy against his thick cock. The fabric of his boxer briefs adds a little friction and oh God, it feels so good . So freaking liberating. I almost scream when he grips my left breast in his hand, his fingers working my nipple while I press against the base of his erection. Within seconds, I’ve lost all control. I grip his shoulders extra tight, a high, keening cry leaving me as the orgasm hovers just on the edge, threatening to sweep over me completely.
“Come on, baby,” he murmurs and those words, his lips brushing against mine, his fingers pinching my nipple until it hurts—the combination of it all sends me straight into orgasmic bliss.
I’m coming, crying out his name, my stomach heaving, my entire body a shuddering mess. My clit throbs so hard I worry I’m going to pass out and when it’s finally over, I collapse against him. My head is spinning and my heart threatens to burst out of my chest, it’s beating so hard.
I think I might’ve died.
But then I feel August’s lips brush against my temple, reminding me that I am very much alive. I play dead slumped against him until he presses me against the seat, giving me no choice but to open my eyes. Oh, he seems pleased with himself, from the look of satisfaction that I see on his gorgeous face.
His lips brush mine, his tongue sneaking out for a lick. “Was that proper first date behavior?”
“No.” I am smiling, and I close my eyes again. Like I’m afraid to look at him.
“Open your eyes, Sin.” I do as he says and he’s right there. All I can see. Like he’s become my entire world and nothing else matters. “I have zero patience. I enjoyed our dinner, but I’m not going to take you on five dates before I can finally fuck you. It feels like I’ve been waiting for this moment for months. My entire fucking life.”
I gape at him, shocked at those last words he uttered. Does he mean what he says? About the impatient part, most definitely.
“I don’t like playing games either. Tell me now if you want to continue this.”
“Continue what?” I ask, in a daze.
“This.” He swallows. “Us.”