Chapter 28
The glass of champagne in my hand grew warm as I stared at Sinclair from behind my sunglasses. He was across the garden party my mother had forced me to attend, flirting it up with Veda.
He’d had me sprawled on the hood of his car three nights ago, fucked me senseless, and come all over my bare skin, knowing full well he was going to run back to her the next day. Anger flared inside me, but it was heavily outweighed by an annoying dose of hurt. And I didn’t want Sinclair or his actions to have the power to hurt me.
Yet here I was, standing under a tree at the country club garden party, watching my stepbrother live his best life with some other girl at his side.
“Fuck,” I muttered, turning away. I was a damn fool for letting myself get tangled up with these boys. It wasn’t going to end well for any of us, but least of all me.
“You look like you could use this,” Presley said, appearing at my side and handing me another chilled glass of champagne.
He looked so incredibly handsome in his fitted navy checked suit with the matching tie. The pants cut off at the ankles, showing off his dark tanned leather dress shoes. Sunglasses covered the usual mischief dancing in his eyes and his caramel-colored hair was mussed like he’d been running his hands through it.
“Thanks, I can,” I said, downing the last of my warm glass and discarding it in favor of his.
“He’ll never leave her, you know.” Presley nodded in Sinclair’s direction.
I shrugged, shaking my head slowly. “Not sure why you think I’d care.”
Pres tilted his head at me. “I don’t know, maybe the moans coming from the garage the other night.”
He took a sip of his drink, fighting a smile at the surprise plastered on my face.
“You’re loud when you’re having a good time, Sass.” He moved closer. As close as we could get away with, given we were very much in public. “And I fucking love it.”
I shiver ran through my body at the memory of Presley and I in the shower together. And against his bedroom door.
If we didn’t have to be at this damn garden party right now, I’d drag him home and beg him to do it again.
“Whatever. He made his choice. It has nothing to do with me.” I tried to inject more confidence into my voice than I felt.
“How about we hit the bar and drown our sorrows?”
Presley offered me his arm and I took it.
“What do you have to feel sorry about?” I asked, shifting sideways as we moved around people to make our way towards the bar.
He grinned, dropping his voice. “Nothing. I’m just hoping if I get you drunk, you’ll let me do a whole lot of kinky shit to you when we get home.”
We stopped at the bar, ordering two vodka shots, along with two vodka sodas with lime for good measure.
“Why wait until we get home?”
Two hours later, Presley and I were totally plastered and giggling like school girls as we fumbled to undress each other inside what I think was some kind of gardener’s shack on the grounds of the country club.
We’d wandered away from the party hoping to find a secluded spot in the garden to grind on each other without the watchful eyes of the society matrons, ready to pounce on any bit of gossip or scandal they could get on the Astons. Instead, we’d found this place, with its fogged windows, dirty floor, and the strong stench of fertilizer.
“This is crazy romantic, Presley.” Sarcasm laced my tone as I drunkenly fumbled with the buttons of his white linen shirt, while he sucked on my neck and pawed at my ass like it held the secrets to all his problems. “No guy has ever wanted to get it on with me amongst rakes and brooms. Kinky.”
He pulled back, grinning down at me. “Wait until I fire up that thing.” He nodded to the ride-on mower at the other end of the small shed. “I’d have you moaning my name in about eight seconds with that vibrating under you.”
I raised a brow. I didn’t hate that idea one bit, but… “No time to find the keys. I want you now.”
His eyes flared with heat, and he swatted my useless hands away from his buttons, grabbing both sides of his shirt and pulling it open. Buttons tinkled to the floor.
“Wow, someone’s excited.” My eyes snagged on his impressive torso, stealing my train of thought. “My god, your body is incredible.”
I ran my fingers over his pecs and abs, and he leaned his head back against the shelves behind him, letting out a long sigh.
“You know, I could die happy with your hands on me.”
I let out a small laugh. “Nobody’s dying today, big guy.”
His head snapped up, eyes popping open. “It does things for my ego when you call me that,” he said with a sly smile.
“Glad I could help with that, given your ego is in such dire need of stroking.”
His smile widened to light up his entire face. Goddamn it, he was beautiful.
They were all hot as fuck. But Presley… he was gorgeous in that boy-next-door kind of way. If the boy next door was a male model with abs you could cut diamonds on and a smile that left you breathless.
“I can think of more important things that need stroking. Now pull up your dress and take off your panties.”
I snaked my hands around his neck and into his hair, our bodies flushing together. “I’m not wearing panties,” I said, our mouths achingly close. “Why would I bother wearing them around any of you at this point?”
He groaned, his mouth crashing with mine. His tongue was fevered and sloppy compared to his usual finesse, thanks to the alcohol, but it was so damn hot. He didn’t care about technique, he wanted me. Desperately. And knowing that only spurred me on.
I wrapped myself around him like a damn pretzel, our bodies fully entwined.
He slid a hand between us under my dress, playing with my clit.
“Fuck, you’re so ready.”
“I was ready the moment I laid eyes on you at this stupid party. There isn’t a time I’m not ready to take you.” I closed my mouth over his, kissing him with all the drunken desperate need I had for him in this moment, and he groaned against my mouth.
“Peach is my new favorite flavor.” He licked at my lips, tasting my lip gloss.
With one hand wrapped around my waist, he used the other to tug at his pants, managing to get the button and zipper undone and dropping them to his ankles.
“Climb aboard, Sass. I’m ready to hear you scream.”
I clung to his shoulders, and he grasped both my hips, lifting me until my legs were wrapped around his waist, the tip of his hard cock lined up at my entrance.
He didn’t hesitate, thrusting in. I tipped my head back on a cry, exposing my throat.
“That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.” His mouth closed over my throat, sucking and nipping at me, his hips thrusting in a lazy rhythm.
Sex with Presley was always an experience. But languid, drunken Presley was something else.
He deepened his thrusts, clamping his hands tighter at my waist to hold me down on his cock, hitting just the right spot inside me to make me see stars.
“Fuck, Presley,” I panted, tilting my hips to welcome him with every thrust.
He leaned forward, biting down on my neck, and I cried out so loud the sound rang in my ears.
“Never forget who makes you moan the loudest, Sass.”
Right now, I couldn’t see anything or anyone but him and the way he was making my body vibrate with pleasure. Faster than ever, I was coming, my walls clenching around him inside me.
He groaned at the feel of it, spilling into me, then held me tight, his head dropping to my shoulder. We were quiet for a long moment, clinging to each other.
Presley put me back on my feet, gripping my chin and planting a sweet kiss on my mouth. “You’re so fucking sexy, Sass.”
I smiled up at him just as the door to the shed burst open, Sinclair striding in.
“What the fuck is wrong with you two? I could hear Dempsey crying out from halfway across the grounds.” His expression was pinched with anger.
“I fucked her like I meant it. Can’t help it if she had a good time, that’s the whole point.”
Sinclair marched for his brother, getting in his face. “Do you want to get fucking caught? Do you want to get sent the fuck away and see this family ruined because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants in public?”
Presley sobered, but Sinclair wasn’t done.
“You know how badly this will end if anyone finds out about her and any of us, Pres.”
Presley sighed, long and low. “Alright, I get it. We weren’t thinking.”
Sinclair scoffed, taking a step back. “Because you’re drunk again.”
Presley went to protest, to defend himself, but I cut in. “And you think you’re the moral fucking compass of this family?”
Sinclair rounded on me, his perfect, emotionless mask falling back into place. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, drunken rage boiling inside me that I was struggling to tamp down. “I don’t know, Sinclair. Maybe that you want to lecture him about fucking me in public, when you fucked me on the hood of your car three nights ago and you still seem to be with your cute little girlfriend.”
Something flickered behind his eyes, then was gone. He slowly closed the space between us, leaning down so we were eye to eye. Or face to face, given his mouth was only inches from mine.
“You know, jealousy really suits you, Princess.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth, lingering there and making my breath hitch.
Then he pulled back, standing tall. He opened his mouth to speak, when the door opened again and a gardener strolled in, surprise slackening his expression.
I glanced at Presley, whose shirt was still torn open and his pants undone at his hips.
Well, shit.
“I have five hundred dollars in my pocket,” Sinclair said in a commanding voice. “All of it is yours if you keep whatever you think you’re seeing to yourself.”
The man nodded wordlessly, and Sinclair pulled a wad of cash from his pocket, handing it over. The gardener didn’t hesitate, taking it and backing out of the shed, closing the door behind him.
Sinclair pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck.” He turned to face us. “Pull yourselves together and get your asses back to the party, separately.”
He stalked out, slamming the door behind him.
Pres and I glanced at each other, bursting into laughter.
“I love my brother, but fuck, he has a stick up his ass.”
I grimaced, reaching for a packet of paper towels on a shelf to clean myself up. When I was done, he reached for me, tugging me against him. “I thought railing you the other night might have dislodged it, but no luck.”
Screwing up my nose, I pushed up on my toes and kissed him hard. “I’ll see you back there, big guy.”
He grinned back at me as I slipped out of the shed, wandering across the grass as though I hadn’t just let my smoking hot stepbrother nail me in a maintenance shed.
When I made it back to the party, I stopped by the bar for a glass of champagne, making my way through the crowd to Arena’s side.
“And where have you been?” she asked with a knowing smile.
“Just out for a walk in the grounds.”
“A walk? That’s what you’re going with?”
I was going to reply with something innocent, when Presley reappeared, strolling into the party with his sunglasses covering his eyes and his shirt still open. He’d busted all the buttons, he had no way of closing it up again. Clearly he was happy to roll with it.
“Bitch, you have got to be kidding me,” Arena snorted, unable to contain her laughter.
I swatted her on the arm. “I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”
“So you had nothing to do with the fact Presley’s incredible body is out for all to see right now?”
I shook my head, taking a sip of my drink. “Nope. I don’t know anything about it.”
“Hmmm,” Arena said in a tone that showed just how much she didn’t believe me. “I wonder why broody brother number one keeps glaring at you like he doesn’t know if he wants to murder you or make you moan.”
My head snapped in Sinclair’s direction, and sure enough, his hard gaze was trained on me, his jaw ticking. We both turned back to Presley, as Byron marched over, his expression livid.
“Oh shit, hold this for me.” I thrust my glass at Arena and threaded through the crowd, reaching Presley and Byron at the same time Dacre did.
Byron’s hard voice was pitched low, tearing into Presley.
“Woah, Byron, ease up.” Dacre slipped between his father and his brother, putting space between them.
“Your brother is drunk again,” Byron snapped. “And making foolish decisions again.”
Presley laughed. “What foolish decision have I made this time?”
Byron’s eyes narrowed on him. “It’s clear from the tattered state of your clothes, you’ve been nailing some dumb slut.”
Presley’s expression hardened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sinclair appeared at his father’s side. “Let’s dial this down, there’s no reason to cause a scene. So, he had a few drinks? He’s fine, Byron.”
Presley stood tall despite being half dressed, his hands in his pockets, anger radiating off him at Byron’s unknowing slight against me.
“Get out of here before you embarrass this family any further.” Byron turned to me. “And you, young lady…”
I blanched in surprise at being on the receiving end of his outrage.
“Your mother told me you had far too many drinks today. So maybe you and I need to have another discussion about what it means to be part of this family and the standards you’re expected to live up to.”
He didn’t wait for a response, stalking off back in the direction of his friends.
“You’re really one of us now,” Dacre said, shaking his head. “You’ve managed to piss off Byron Aston. Isn’t it fun?”
Presley swiped a drink from a passing tray, downing it in one go. “It’s a fucking blast.”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Sinclair said, taking the glass from Presley and discarding it on a nearby table. “We’re leaving before you can enrage Byron any more than you already have.”
Presley sighed. “Whatever. These parties are mind-numbing anyway.”
We all headed for the exit, Dacre slapping Presley on the shoulder as we walked.
“I think that might be the seventeen tequilas you downed, bro.”