Begging for Bad Boys

by Willow Winters

  And she's wearing a Mockingjay pin.

  Exactly like the one attached to my backpack.

  That's nothing. Lots of people like The Hunger Games. Even Brendon.

  There's no way he's looking at me like this.

  My heartbeat picks up.

  My breath flees my body at an alarming rate.

  I shouldn't turn the page, but I can't stop myself.

  It's that same pinup, only her cardigan is unbuttoned. Her breasts are exposed.

  In the next picture, she's lying on her back, her arms over her head, her cardigan binding her wrists.

  This is private.

  It's not for my eyes.

  But my hands refuse to cooperate. They turn the page.

  There's no denying it.

  That's the four-poster bed in Brendon's room.

  And the woman bound to it, wearing nothing but a thong—

  That's me.

  Footsteps move closer.

  I snap the book shut and jump off the stool.

  Emma laughs. "Oooh, the angel is spying?" She slides her arm around my shoulder. "You find anything good?"

  "Just tattoo mockups. Doodles." I press my lips together. I must be imagining things. Brendon is a smoking hot tattoo artist who mows through women like it's going out of style.

  Is he really having fantasies about me?

  That shouldn't be possible.

  It defies logic.

  "Figures. I'm not sure there's much in his head besides tattoos and hot babes." She pulls out her phone and glances at the screen. "You bringing Daniel on this double date?"

  "I don't know." All of a sudden, our classmate, Daniel, doesn't hold any appeal. He's a nice enough guy, but he's not Brendon.

  A thud echoes through the room as Brendon drops Emma's textbooks on the counter. He shoots her a knowing look. "Who's Daniel?"

  She winks at me. "Only Kay's latest conquest. You should hear the way she talks about all the perverse things she's going to do to him."

  "Should I?" Brendon raises a brow.

  She nods, attempting to keep a straight face. It only lasts a minute then she's laughing so hard she has to hold her stomach. "Sorry, Kay. I love you, but the thought of you dirty-talking a guy. And the guy being Daniel…"

  I don't mind the teasing. It's our thing. Emma teases me about being uptight. I tease her about having… relaxed standards and frequent overnight guests. Neither one of us really cares about the other's sexual habits beyond no way is my best friend ending up with a loser.

  "He's nice," I say.

  "Does he have any other attributes?" Brendon's expression gets incredulous.

  "He's funny. Smart. Great on trombone." I'm not sure why I'm trying to prove this point. I'm not attached to Daniel. We haven't even been on a date.

  I know I'm not the hottie who gets the bad boy.

  But I do have standards.

  I'm not going to have Brendon thinking otherwise.

  Even if he's thinking…

  My head spins. Does Brendon really want me?

  "He's a band geek," Emma says.

  "Don't be a snob." Brendon turns to me. "Do you like this guy?"

  "It's only a double date." I swallow hard. I like him fine. Not the way I like Brendon. But maybe that's for the best. Right now, with Brendon staring at me like he’s staring into my soul, I feel like my heart is about to burst out of my chest.

  My tongue is tripping over itself.

  My entire body is buzzing with desire.

  I can barely think, much less speak. I can't live like this 24/7.

  He looks to Emma. "Is he good enough for her?"

  "Of course not." Emma's voice is half teasing, half sincere. We're both always vetoing potential boyfriends as not good enough.

  "You like him, Kaylee?" he asks.

  "He's fine," I say.

  Brendon cocks a brow. "Don't waste your time with a guy who's fine."

  It's none of his business. Even if it's good advice.

  "How about this? We go. If we aren't having fun, give me the signal and we'll ditch the guys," Emma says.

  "Okay," I say.

  Brendon turns to me. "You'll make sure she gets home okay?"

  "I'm nineteen! I'm an adult!" Emma folds her arms. She always protests when Brendon gets protective. Which means she protests a lot. Their parents died a few years ago. He stepped in to pick up all the slack. Which means he's the one issuing orders and making rules.

  But those pictures…

  Does he issue orders when he's getting naked with someone?

  Will he issue me orders?

  After a set of goodbyes, Emma grabs her textbooks and my hands and leads me back to my car. Then we're driving back to her place.

  It's practically my place. I spend most of my time here, especially since my roommate got a particularly loud boyfriend.

  My parents just sold the house and moved back to New Jersey to be closer to Grandma. They're three thousand miles away.

  Emma and Brendon are the only people here I can count on.

  I need to get over the brooding tattoo artist if I want to survive staying in Southern California for college.

  I need him as a friend.

  That's not worth risking.

  Not for anything.

  Chapter 2

  After Emma puts her textbooks away, we crash on her bed and watch The Little Mermaid for the millionth time.

  Of course, away is a relative term. Calling Emma's room a mess is being charitable. She's a slob. I love her to pieces, but there's no denying her lack of appreciation for cleanliness.

  Even after all these years, I'm not used to it. I throw dirty clothes into her hamper and wipe up crumbs.

  "Leave it," she says. "I like it like this."

  "How?"

  "It inspires my creativity."

  "That's bullshit."

  "It's my room." She motions to the door down the hall. "The guest room is yours whenever you want it. As long as you want. The place is half mine."

  "I can't stay here just because my roommate is annoying. I don't want to impose."

  "On who?"

  "Whom."

  She laughs. "You're my favorite grammar geek." She pats the bed. "Stop cleaning and watch Ariel try to impress Prince Eric."

  "I'll feel better when it's clean."

  She shoots me a serene smile as she kicks another dirty t-shirt onto the floor. "I can make a mess faster than you can clean." She pats her bed again. "Sit. Relax."

  "Relax?"

  "You are capable."

  "School starts in two weeks."

  "And you're going to kick ass again." She shifts off the bed, wraps her arms around me, and attempts to wrestle me onto the comforter.

  "I want to clean."

  "Let's compromise. We'll both clean for five minutes, then you'll sit."

  "No deal," I say.

  "Fine." She goes to the closet and starts flipping through her cocktail dresses. "You want to borrow something?"

  "Aren't we going to Panera?"

  "Well…" She makes that I have a change of plans hrmmm noise. "Stan invited us to his place. For a sort of party."

  "Sort of party?"

  She nods. "Okay. You're nineteen too. I don't have to spell it out."

  "Em-"

  "It's only if you want." She bites her lip. "Just, you know last time… I know you don't want to go back to college a virgin."

  My cheeks turn red. God, this is embarrassing.

  But she's right. I'm tired of being the weird girl who hasn't had sex.

  But sleeping with this guy I only sort of like…

  That doesn't feel right.

  "Only if it's what you want." She nods to the dress. "I'd love to head to Panera looking classy as fuck."

  The mental image of us in cocktail dresses and heels at the fast casual sandwich shop makes me laugh. "Then we can class up The Coffee Bean."

  "Fuck yes." She pulls a short purple dress from the closet and tosses it on her
bed. "I'm not saying you should sleep with Daniel tonight. But if you want to lose it, he's not a bad choice. He's a nice guy. He'll be courteous, but it won't be fantastic. Which means you won't get attached."

  I bite my lip. I don't know if I want that. And I don't know that I want to hang out with Daniel while Emma goes off to screw Stan. It's awkward trying to make conversation while your friend is screaming I'm coming. "Do you have condoms?"

  "Yeah. Put some in your purse. Just in case."

  "Yeah. That's a good idea. Smart. I mean… I don't want to be a virgin anymore. So, I should get the condoms."

  Em cocks her head. "Relax, sweetie. It's not a race."

  "I'm, um… well, you're right. I don't want to be a virgin anymore."

  "No fucking way." Brendon's voice flows in through the open bedroom door. He shoots Emma a protective glare.

  Then he's looking at me with a caring expression.

  God, he looks good standing in the door frame wearing only his jeans.

  He's on his way to the shower.

  I guess he just got home. I didn't hear him come in.

  I try to meet his gaze, but my eyes refuse to cooperate. That chest piece, the sleeve tattoo, the ink on his shoulders. His body is sculpted perfection and it's covered in ink.

  He's so yummy it's ridiculous.

  He's so yummy I'm panting.

  I don't want to sleep with Daniel.

  I want to sleep with Brendon.

  Does he want me bound?

  Submitting?

  I want to know.

  I want to be tied to that bed, waiting for his instruction.

  Thankfully, Emma jumps in to defend me. "Mind your own business." She shoots her brother a death glare. "You can't talk about sleeping around."

  "Don't you want the best for our angel?" He teases me by calling me by my old nickname.

  I'm the angel and Emma is the devil. Together, we're the perfect balance of sugar and spice. I keep her from getting into too much trouble. She makes sure I have fun. It works well, even if it means I'm stuck being the responsible one.

  "Put on clothes." Her eyes narrow in a get off my back glare.

  He motions come here. "Let's talk, Kaylee."

  "So you can lecture her about safe sex? You think I'm going to let her go bareback with some guy she barely knows?" Emma folds her arms.

  Brendon's eyes meet mine. Understanding passes between us. I'm not sure what he's after, but I know I want to find out.

  "Give me a minute," I say.

  "If you're sure." Emma shoots her brother another stern look.

  I take a deep breath and follow him into the hallway. All the way to the end of the hallway, out of earshot of Emma.

  He leans against the wall. The orange light of sunset casts him in an angelic glow. But Brendon is much closer to a devil than an angel.

  I want him being the yang to my yin.

  I want him corrupting me.

  I want him. Period.

  His dark eyes fix on me. "Do you really want to sleep with some random asshole to lose your virginity?"

  "He's not an asshole."

  "Do you want to fuck him?"

  "I don't know. I haven't decided."

  He leans closer. His fingers brush my neck, then it's his palm, then he's rubbing my shoulder.

  "It's really none of your business."

  "And my sketchbook?"

  "You… how did you know?" My face flames. My chest follows. Heat travels through my torso, collecting between my legs.

  He's right. I was snooping.

  I invaded his privacy.

  Does he know how much I saw?

  "The look on your face." He brushes hair from my eyes.

  "Are you mad?"

  "No."

  But he still stares at me with that stern expression.

  I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. I just… I won't look again."

  "You should."

  I'm hot everywhere. "You want me looking at those drawings?"

  "You know what I want."

  He can't mean…

  I swallow hard. I want that too. How can I want it as badly as I do?

  He gives me a long once-over. "Do you really want to sleep with this guy?"

  "I don't want to wait forever."

  "You really want to fuck someone?"

  His voice is classic Brendon. It's even, calm, like everything is going to be okay if only I listen to him.

  "Kaylee." He runs his fingers over my upper arm. "Look me in the eyes."

  I do.

  "There's no shame in fucking your way out of your pain if that's what you want."

  "I know. But I'm not—"

  "You miss your parents."

  "Yes."

  "You're lonely. It's natural to want to find a fix."

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Yes, you do."

  I clear my throat. How can he see into my head that easily? I miss my parents so much. It's been almost a month now. Ever since I finished summer school, the days have felt long and empty. Emma goes to her internship. Brendon is at work. When I'm not at my part-time job, I feel alone.

  His eyes fix on me. "You're a sweet girl. Casual sex won't make you happy."

  "How do you know?"

  "I've known you since you were five. I know you."

  I shake my head, but I can't argue. Brendon does know me. The only person who knows me better is Emma.

  "Do you want to fuck a stranger?" he asks.

  "Maybe. I'm still thinking. If you know me that well, you know it takes me a while to make up my mind."

  He moves closer. He moves close enough to kiss me.

  He doesn't.

  Instead, he leans in, brings his lips to my ear, and whispers, "You deserve better than a sloppy fuck. You deserve sex with a man fixed on your pleasure. You deserve to scream a guy's name as you rake your nails across his back, because in that moment, he's your entire universe and you're his."

  "That's a very romantic sentiment."

  He shakes his head. "That's good sex." He runs his fingers down my arm and over the back of my hand. "I'm not going to watch you fuck some guy who will throw you away in the morning."

  "I wasn't planning on inviting you."

  He pulls back enough to look me in the eyes. "You want to enjoy your first time?"

  I nod.

  "Then fuck me."

  Chapter 3

  I exhale every bit of breath in my body at once.

  Then fuck me.

  I take a slow inhale, but it does nothing to clear my head. It certainly isn't helping with the heat running down my limbs.

  Brendon is offering to have sex with me.

  I try to stare back at him but my gaze refuses to budge from his tattooed chest. Fuck, my cheeks are burning. My chest is burning.

  This has to be a joke.

  Brendon doesn't want to have sex with me.

  Brendon is nearly ten years older than me.

  He's my friend. My second closest friend.

  There's no way…

  "I don't need your pity sex," I say.

  "You really think I offer anyone anything out of pity?"

  No, I don't. "Then why are you offering?"

  "Because I want to fuck you, Kaylee." He drags his fingertips back up my arm. "I want to show you what good sex feels like."

  I swallow hard. I very much want him to show me what good sex feels like.

  But he's my friend.

  He's Emma's brother.

  And Emma will flip if she finds out.

  This could lose me the two most important people in my life.

  My body screams yes, now, stop making excuses.

  My head is more apprehensive.

  I swallow hard.

  Emma's door opens. Her bouncy steps move through the hallway. "Your boobs are bigger than mine, but I think you'll still fit into this dress. As long as you skip the bra."

  Brendon takes a ste
p backwards. I expect the nerves in my chest to subside. They don't. If anything, they're crashing into each other.

  His eye meet mine. His voice is still that even tone. "It's up to you, Kaylee."

  Emma bounces into the kitchen, holding up a sparkly silver dress like it's a trophy. "Perfect, huh?"

  Short, tight, and low-cut, so, yes, perfect for her aim of getting laid. "Perfect. Are we going to Stan's place or to a… another place?"

  She motions to Brendon with a not so much about those details look.

  He stares. "If I find a fake ID, I'm cutting it in half."

  "Got it." Emma grabs my hand and pulls me towards the stairs. She nods goodbye to her brother. "We'll be home late."

  "Don't you have your internship tomorrow?" he asks.

  Emma groans. "Shit. I have to be there at eight." She turns to me. "Okay, we'll be out until Kaylee… until Kaylee is satisfied with the evening."

  Brendon shoots me a knowing look as he heads for the shower. "Think about what I said."

  "I will." In fact, I'm pretty sure it's all I'm going to think about.

  "What did he say?" Emma asks.

  "The usual."

  She nods. "He can be really overprotective."

  And I'm starting to see how that can be appealing.

  The date is awful. Stanley is boring. Daniel is handsy. The apartment smells like pot and dog hair.

  I want to be gone, immediately.

  Thankfully, Emma understands my let's get out of here hand gesture.

  Tragically, she insists on stopping by a bar, to find another cute guy.

  Two hours later, we're nestled in a Venice Beach dive bar. She's on her fifth rum and coke. I'm on my third.

  "Oh, this is perfect." Emma puts on "Go Your Own Way" and sings along with Fleetwood Mac. She motions come here. When I don't, she throws her arms over her head, dancing with herself.

  A group of tourists in the corner take notice. I'm not sure who looks more out of place—them, in their Disneyland t-shirts and fanny packs, or us in our club dresses and sky high heels. A quick glance around the dark, locals-only bar assures me that it's us.

  "Kaylee, baby, come on." Emma grabs my hands and pulls me onto the floor with her.

  It's not a dance floor, really, but I want to dance. Moving might move my thoughts. At the moment, they're all stuck together.

  Does Brendon really want me?

  Will he want me to submit to him?