by Sonya Jesus
I clench my teeth, narrow my eyes and keep my mouth shut.
“Though you can’t really call what you have with either of them a relationship.” He throws the bear onto the comforter and makes himself comfortable on my bed, near me. “I heard about your open relationship.”
“You’re well informed.”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “I was shocked. I didn’t peg you as the type. But, I bet that open thing has to do with your best friend.”
“Now you are just making assumptions.”
“It’s pretty obvious. You and Chris are different this year. Have you two…?” He studies me for a moment. “No, I don’t think you have. Or you wouldn’t have let me kiss you in the hallway.”
“You are really chatty for someone who’s barely ever spoken to me,” I chime in before he can add his two cents in.
“That’s what friends do. They enlighten.”
“When did you get the impression we were the ‘enlightening’ kind of friends?”
He puts a hand on his heart playfully, feigning offense. “I have a feeling I can enlighten you on a lot of things, Amelia.”
Oh no. He better not go there again.
“Can I share my theory with you?” He doesn’t give me time to answer. “Neither of them are good for you.”
“What?” The audacity coming off this cheeky bastard amazes me.
“Trust me, Princess. Guys talk, and I, being me, hear things. Connor isn’t exactly the most faithful guy, and neither is Christopher. The only difference between Christopher and Connor is that Chris loves you enough to tell you the truth and Connor likes you enough to lie. In the end, it doesn’t change the fact that someone like you deserves better.”
Even the fucking Soccer God has a say in my love life. “Thanks for the fucking advice-”
“You curse a lot,” he states the obvious, cutting me off.
“Only when people piss me off,” I clip sarcastically. “Which has been a whole lot lately. So look, you picked the wrong time to stir up a conversation.” I shiver, feeling cold when only a while ago he was warming me up so much I thought I was going to pass out. I take another swig of water, rolling it around in my mouth, waiting for him to go.
He smiles, enjoying our little argument and stands again. Just as I think he’s about to leave, he turns to me and says, “You complicate things for me.”
I let out a sigh of frustration. He complicates my already complicated existence! “Look Aiden, let me make this easy for you.” I move closer to him. Moving made me sick, but I swallow down whatever just came up in my throat. I get up close and personal, so he can hear me clearly. My closeness causes him to shift his weight from one foot to another. “I’m not interested,” I declare slowly so he can hear every word. “Does that un-complicate things for you?”
“What you say and what you think are completely different. Or what? You don’t think I noticed?” he jeers and I raise my eyebrows, tilting my head to the side asking him to elaborate on what exactly he noticed. “You’ve wanted me since that day, haven’t you?”
This is what I have been missing? An actual Soccer God with a God complex. Why am I surprised?
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Conceited jackass.
“Will you think about the proposition? One date?”
“Aiden. You are relentless.” My Angel warns me I’m heading down a dangerous road, so I add. “No.”
“You’ll think about it.” He pulls out a black sharpie and leans over my desk.
“What are you doing? There’s computer paper right there!” I order him to stop writing on my desk.
He keeps writing. “This way you can’t lose it.”
“You’re out of your mind.” I try to rub off the sharpie with my fingers when he steps back.
He smirks at my insufficient attempt. Turning his back on me, he opens the door. His voice is barely audible over the sound of loud music and drunkenness. I think he says, “Think about it. We both know you want to say yes.”
He is something else. I can´t help but stare at his perfect backside as he walks out, leaving my door wide open.
I slide my books over the area of my defaced desk. “Out of sight, out of mind.”
Chapter 19: All the Wrong Things
Hawk
Before the Frisbee game, I snuck into her room while she slept. As I sat in her computer chair, watching her hug her pillow, snoring lightly, the phone on her desk buzzed with a message, beckoning me to check it. It was a blurry picture of her alone, laying down on one of the wooden benches at Lovers’ Well. Almost immediately, another message came in, “Careful I’m watching.” I sent the messages to myself, deleted all evidence of them and bolted out of her room. I showed up at the party tonight and rigged the whole suite with the cameras.
I heard Haley mention something about a prankster calling her, and I investigated reports for the night of the pep rally. I found a non-official report from Public Safety, confirming Haley’s statement and assigning it as a harmless prank.
Nothing threatening my Queen is harmless.
I’ve been too busy worrying about the insignificant men in her life to notice someone pranking her or stalking her.
Watching Amelia is my job, I do not take any threat to her person lightly. Prank or not, I won’t let anyone harm my Amelia. Through some digging, I discovered the pranking originated a few weeks ago with some phone calls and a picture snow globe. The idea that someone is going around, snapping pictures to taunt her boils my blood. I might teach the prankster a lesson, but first I have to find him.
A knock on the door resonates through the vacant rooms of the empty house. I open the door. “Lacey?” The surprise in my voice eminent. “What are you doing here?” I position myself in the door frame. “How do you know where I live?”
She grabs my belt in a brazen move, pushing herself into me. “The boys canceled tonight. Dylan told me where to find you. Said he helped bring your stuff here.” She pushes her breasts into me and puts her lips on my neck; her Lolita perfume intoxicates me. “I thought I’d surprise you.” My body tenses, cueing her to stop.
“I was just on my way out, Lacey,” I say, trying to get her to go. Because no one was home, tonight was the only night I could get over to Connor’s place and install a camera. On my way back from the party, I noticed they left the window ajar. I couldn’t miss this opportunity. “Can we reschedule? I don’t want anyone seeing you here.”
She laughs hysterically. “You could slaughter a pig in here and no one would hear. You’re isolated. No one wants to come all the way back here by the cemetery. Is this even considered on campus?”
Technically it wasn’t. Even though the cemetery was part of the castle, it didn’t belong to the campus. Since Westbrook didn’t use the grounds, they didn’t object to my father purchasing it for me. I was to fix it up and create a house for myself and my friends.
“Besides, I came through that abandoned cemetery to get here. If you’re worried about Harper, rest assured, no one saw me.” I didn’t doubt that. I only took that way when I needed to get in and out of campus quickly. It beats getting in my car and driving the ten minutes to campus.
“You should have called me, Lacey,” I advise while picking my brain for a good excuse, so she doesn’t come in.
She steps back on the porch. “That would ruin the surprise.” She undoes the buckle on her trench and drops it to the ground, revealing a very naked Lacey Pierce. “Surprise.” She takes my momentary distraction to push her way past me and into the house.
Shit. I didn’t lock the room. I grab her trench coat and check the exterior area for an audience. Once clear, I shut and lock the door behind me. Handing her the jacket, I insist, “Lacey put this back on. I really have to go. We can reschedule this for another time.”
She glances at the coat, ignores my outstretched hand and sits on my leather couch. I tilt my head up to the heavens and roll my eyes. Clenching my teeth, I allow the breath to slowly bounce off the inside
of my cheeks as it escapes my lips. She had to choose today to come over? And it had to be the exact moment I was watching Aiden and Amelia in her room. Glancing down the hall, I can vaguely hear the noise from Amelia TV.
Fuck. If I can keep her in the living room, I can lock the door and shut down the devices. Until then, I need to distract her.
The sham commences. My eyes scan her toned naked body, lingering on her perfectly tanned skin, almost golden in the warm light of the ample room. Nipples perk as a result of the cool air and the arousal my gaze instigates. “You really should have called Lacey. I was about to leave.”
“Come on… Whatever or whoever it is can wait.” She opens her legs, revealing a very clean shaven entrance. “Don’t you miss me?” She’s drunk, and a fountain of concupiscence tonight. She isn’t going anywhere until she gets what she came for.
Throwing the coat on an empty chair as her answer, I head over to the dock and play some music in order to drown out the noise coming from my bedroom. I lean against the wall, watching as she curiously fingers herself to activate a response. I lick my lips. She removes her fingers from her saturated center, the evidence of her excitement dripping on her fingers.
“Maybe I’ve thought of you once or twice.” Carefully choosing every action and words, I set the ploy. I adjust my jeans, though I have plenty of room, and hook my fingers through my belt buckle, drawing her attention downward. “Continue.” I lower my voice, just as she lowers her eyes.
I harbor no desire to sleep with Lacey. In fact, the thought of her naked body repulses me, especially when my Queen is in danger. However, if necessary, I will pleasure her and send her on her way.
Her eyes become heavy with need, and she widens herself even more, giving me full access to every tawdry action of her solo performance. She caresses her button with her index finger, gently pressing and wiggling in response to the pleasure.
There’s only one way to give Lacey the response she’s looking for: I picture Amelia’s face on Lacey’s body, and the King twitches instantly. Instead of blonde straight locks, I replace them with my Queen’s long red tresses and picture them brushing against her breasts as she kneads them with her free hand.
If they were Amelia’s, I’d gently run my teeth over the tips of her breasts before swirling my tongue around them teasingly. She’d squeal in delight. I’d prolong the delicious torment by skillfully working my way down and giving her fingers a rest.
I’d taste her, drink her in as my tongue separated her folds. My lips would connect with her Vixen’s lips, kissing her in a different way. Our conversation would be pleas in the form of moans and approving grunts. As I’d learn every spot in her body, she’d beg me to love her like no one ever had. I’d graciously oblige.
“That’s more like it,” her heady voice pierces through my bubble, bursting my illusion. Dreaming with my eyes open is the only way I can get myself to perform. Amelia’s face has been plastered on the bodies of many women. I’d feel guilty for it, but she’s the wet dream that crosses into my reality.
“Come over here and touch me before I finish it myself,” Lacey demands, noting the bulge in my pants.
Before it depresses, I do as I am told. Instead of touching her where she requests, I plant a kiss on her upper lips. “Let me get us a drink first?”
She nods happily, but only because I take my t-shirt off, feeding her eager eyes. She ogles the tattoos on my chest. I slide the shirt over her body as she pouts. I chuckle.
“Come on, Lacey! You should know by now that I like to do the undressing.” I grab one of her nipples through the shirt and twist it. She whimpers in pleasure. “Now keep that on,” I mandate authoritatively, then lower my voice, curling my lips. “So I can rip it off later.”
I go towards the bar and pour myself a drink, desperately needing one. The uncomfortable pressure in my groin is no joke. I pour Lacey’s, adding some crushed zolpidem and mix it. The sleeping pills should give me enough time to lock the door, take care of the camera and get back here way before she wakes up. I’ll get into bed naked and snuggle with her. When she doesn’t remember the sex, I’ll play it off as her being drunk.
I hand her the drink. She takes a sip, licking the rim when some of it drips down the glass. I assume she thinks she’s being seductive. “You’re a demimonde.” I use the derogatory term my father called women like her.
“What does that mean?” she purrs, grabbing my hand and pushing me towards her on the couch. She’s vapid. She wouldn’t know the word if it came with a dictionary attached to it.
“It means half my world,” I amuse myself with the clever lie. “You’re half my world,” I whisper in her ear. She coos as my breath tickles her neck. “Do you like that?” I run my lips down her neck softly.
She nods approvingly and then takes a gulp of her drink.
“No one has ever said anything so romantic to me before.” I stifle my amusement; the word is an insult, not romantic, but my explanation was. “Keep saying stuff like that to me and I might fall for you.”
“What if I keep doing things like this?” I say, right before I force her legs open. She takes a breath, turned on by the force. I become gentle again, running my fingers along her inner thigh, stopping just short of her apex. I add soft kisses to her shoulder, and she shudders in response.
She doesn’t answer me though; she’s scared to tell me how she really feels. In this aspect, I think her and Amelia are very much alike. When it comes down to intimacy, they shy away. For Lacey Pierce, I offer her a level of intimacy that no other man has. The illusion of respect is very powerful. It implements a level of comfort and stultifies the instincts.
“Hawk,” she pleads for more.
I kiss her, feeling the taste of whiskey on her tongue. I pull away quickly. “You like when I set the pace don’t you? Let me worship your body, Lacey Pierce. Every perfect inch of it.”
She falls back on the couch. I notice the cup is half empty. “But I want my lady to finish her drink first.”
She opens her eyes as I stop touching her. Grunting in frustration, she eyes me cautiously.
“What kind of gentleman will I be if I don’t even let you finish.”
“A horny gentleman.” She laughs, grabs the whiskey, chugs it, and waves the empty cup in front of me. “Now show me how ungentlemanly you can be.” I take the glass from her and smile.
“Rushing me, Love?”
She gasps. I need to buy time for the meds to kick in.
“Did you just call me ´Love’?” she sounds surprised. As she should be.
“I’m sorry,” I act defensively. I adjust my glasses, feigning nervousness and drink some of my own beverage. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with the word.”
“I love that you called me that.” She slaps her mouth when the words come out. I force a smile, a very pleased smile. “Shit, I’m sorry I don’t know why I just said that.”
“Do you not love the things I do to you then?” I wrap my arms around her, pushing her closer. She giggles as she slides across the couch. She blushes, weary of her comment, so I encourage her. “Maybe I liked hearing you say it.” With the amount of the sleeping drug I put in her glass, she has to be feeling it.
“I thought you were crushing on someone else.” She sounds so sad. “Just Like Aiden is.” Ahh! And there is the reason for her courage tonight. “I can’t lose you both to her.”
“You’re not going to lose me.” It’s impossible to lose something you never had. My assurance gives her confidence, but the medicine is starting to take its effect. So I don’t let her finish. Instead, I begin to kiss her passionately. She moans into my mouth, souring my stomach. I have to do this, so the last thing she remembers is us being some kind of intimate. I slip her onto my lap and slide my fingers into her. She pumps them greedily. Needing to slow the moment, I open conversation. “Tell me how you feel, Lacey.” I remove them, and run my fingers down her center, and she gasps in excitement.
She watches me,
her eyes half with sleep, but she answers me, “I like you, and I really love when you do that.” I reposition us so that she is laying on the couch and I am on top of her. I egg her on. “You like me?”
She nods yes.
“I had no clue.” I knew.
“Because you’re an idiot,” she says, laughing and yawning at the same time. “Who doesn’t want you?” She places a kiss on my lips. “Like I said before, you are different.”
I chuckle. “You have no idea.”
She starts to doze off then wakes up again. “What do you mean?” I kiss her softly until her lips stop moving and she falls asleep.
I wait a few moments, drinking my whiskey, and after about fifteen pass, I rush to my room, shut down my computer, secure it, and grab the key to lock the door of Amelia’s secret room.
I hear a noise from the living room. Hastily running out, I find Lacey on the floor. I inspect for any bruises, verifying she didn’t hit anything in the fall then pick her up and take her to my bed. After I undress her, I rip the t-shirt I gave her down the center and leave it on the floor. Tucking her under the covers, I ruffle the bed, so it appeared as if we got frisky in the sheets.
My phone vibrates: Harper is calling me for the seventh time.
I close the door to my room with my jacket and keys in hand. As soon as I am outside, I answer, “Hello, sweetheart.”
“Where are you?” Was every woman connected to me drunk tonight?
“Something came up.” I check my jacket pocket for the camera and walk out the door. “Duty calls.”
She laughs, gratefully understanding. “Are you still coming back?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. I have a few things left to do and some paperwork. The party was kind of loud. I don’t want to get caught and get reprimanded.”
“Oh! That makes sense. Maybe we can see each other tomorrow?”
“Absolutely. I got to run. Don’t party too hard without me.”
She giggles. “I might just head to bed soon.”
