Tell Me Why It's Wrong

by B. Celeste

  And the wait was worth it.

  She moans into the pillow as my tongue swipes a line from her soaked entrance to her clit, then back again. I take my time with her, kneading her hips with my fingers, squeezing her ass, playing with the bundle of nerves, and teasing her entrance with the tip of my tongue like I did with my fingers once before.

  I’d be lying if I said pussy and I weren’t well acquainted—we’re practically best friends. I know how to make a woman writhe and come undone until she’s seeing stars. And Rylee’s is the best I’ve tasted.

  Sweet.

  Needy.

  And when her legs begin shaking I know she’s close. Her body gravitates toward my mouth as I eat her out, demanding more with every flick and stroke. When she gets louder, I reach around her to muffle her orgasm, cupping a hand over her mouth as I finish her off with my finger stroking her entrance before slowly sliding in and my thumb grazing the puckered hole of her ass until she bucks against me with a muffled cry into my palm.

  When she’s sated, her hips drop until she’s flat on her stomach, her breathing hard and body limp in front of me.

  I don’t think about my hard as hell cock.

  I simply readjust myself, pull her shorts back into place, and lay back down beside her. Wanting her close, I haul her body into my side and relax when she settles in.

  I peck a kiss against her temple and close my eyes in hopes of getting a little more sleep.

  When I wake up a while later, Rylee is already gone, and the sheets are cold.

  Checking my phone before subjecting myself to whatever awaits me downstairs, I notice a sling of texts from the guys.

  Manning: Do you think he’s dead?

  Jax: Maybe he’s finally getting laid

  Cal: Good then he won’t be so prickly

  Manning: Or maybe they took him to a pig farm. I hear that’s where they get rid of bodies in rural areas

  Cal: A pig farm????

  Zayne: Ur all morons

  Cal: Don’t be jelly that he got the girl

  Manning: Dude

  Jax: Notice Garrick hasn’t replied yet

  Manning: *pig emoji*

  Jax: Wait are they even farmers??

  Cal: Who cares?

  Jax: How would they get the pigs?

  Manning: Other people could own them and they take his body there for disposal

  Zayne: He’s probably trying to impress the in-laws

  I snort over that, not sure how impressed they’d be over me going down on their daughter in her childhood bedroom like she’s my own personal feast, which I plan to go back to many times again. The thought alone makes my dick ache.

  Palming myself to ease the pressure in my pants, I ignore the slew of texts from the group chat and click on the one from my brother.

  Chase: A pap broke past the gate

  Chase: Mom came by and talked to police with me

  Chase: You there???

  Chase: Bad time to not be on your phone dude. Mom called your manager and they’re getting it taken care of

  Chase: Call me when you see this

  “Fuck.” I bolt up and instantly dial his number, cursing when I see my phone only has 10% battery left.

  “It’s about time, asshole,” is my brother’s greeting. “I tried calling you like five times, and I don’t want to know how many times Mom did.”

  I scrub a hand down my face. “I’m sorry. My phone was on silent so it wouldn’t wake Rylee.”

  There’s a moment of silence. “I want to comment on that but it’s not important right now. They didn’t get to the house, but one of them got into the garage and took pictures of Rylee’s car and the stuff inside it.”

  “I thought you said there was one?”

  “There was two. Knew each other.”

  “Arrested?”

  “Yes.”

  I growl out, “Good.”

  Chase sighs. “Michael said he paid them off to get the pictures and made sure the SD cards were wiped on their cameras. But that doesn’t mean they won’t talk. And Mom thinks it’s best if there’s more security outside your gate until things clear up. She said something about Michael mentioning party photos which is why these guys broke in to confirm something they’d heard through the grapevine.”

  Pinching my nose, I shake my head. “I knew that fucking party wasn’t going to end well. Did anyone elaborate on what was circulating?”

  If they saw her car, which she barely cleaned anything out of, then who knows what they found inside.

  “No clue. Sorry.”

  Fuck me. “I’ll get in touch with Michael and have him fill me in. I don’t want this happening again so we need to handle it early. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. The house is fine. You don’t have to worry about that. Just…yeah. Maybe call your manager sooner rather than later.”

  He sounds like he knows more than he’s letting on, but I don’t press him on it. I grumble but agree, already feeling a small headache form in the back of my skull when I realize how this next call will go down. There’s nothing worse than having someone you dislike saying I told you so.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologizes even though it’s not his fault.

  “Don’t worry about it. Focus on your house and your…situation. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now.”

  I’m about to hang up when he says, “Oh, and your dumbass friends sent something to the house this morning after the police left. It’s a stuffed pig with a note that says “RIP” in bold letters. What exactly does that mean? Who died?”

  Shaking my head, I brush it off. “It’s nothing. They’re being idiots. I’ll check in with you later once I talk to Michael, yeah?”

  Hanging up after we say goodbye, I go through the rest of my notifications that I missed during the night and realize it’s going to be a long day of making phone calls. As much as I want to go with Rylee to meet her friend before we leave, I probably won’t have time to stay. It may be nice for her to spend time one-on-one with her anyway.

  I decide not to bring up what happened when I walk downstairs and see Rylee and her family eating at the table. She won’t meet my eyes, but both her parents do.

  I simply say, “Good morning.”

  They say it back.

  She doesn’t.

  I don’t regret what happened between us.

  But it’s obvious she does.

  25

  Rylee

  Moffie makes a weird squealing sound that makes both me and her husband Eli cringe as she gapes at the man dropping me off at their new place. He opens the door for me and closes it once I’m out, waving at my best friend who clearly forgot to keep her cool like she promised.

  Though, it’s hard to contain my laughter when she blurts, “We have muffins” to the Australian who’s leaning against my mother’s Jeep that she’s letting us borrow while we’re here so we don’t have to use the rental Garrick got us.

  Garrick plays along, trying to contain his wavering smile. “What kind?”

  “Blueberry.”

  Eli and I exchange amused looks at Moffie as she waves her hands frantically at their cute little single family home. “I can make different ones. You once said in People magazine that chocolate chip was your favorite, but I think that was when you were younger, and tastes change all the time because I never used to like sweet potatoes but now I love them and—”

  “Moff. Babe,” Eli chuckles, pulling her back into his chest and wrapping his arms around her waist. “I think you need to breathe and let the man answer before you offer up the deed to our house too.”

  Moffie glares at her husband. “As if he’d even want to live here. It’s small.”

  Eli frowns. “You love this house.”

  “But he,” she says, jabbing her finger at Garrick, “wouldn’t. I mean, he’s got like four houses all over the world and like twenty cars or something. It’d hardly work for him.”

  My eyes bug out over that tidbit of informatio
n that I didn’t know. Who needs twenty cars and four houses? I turn to him with a lifted brow, but he simply shrugs as if to say, you didn’t ask.

  Sighing, I break up her moment. “Garrick said he has stuff to take care of, so you’re stuck with me. I happen to love blueberry muffins.”

  My best friend looks disappointed but nods begrudgingly. “I made them for you anyway,” she murmurs, stretching out her hand toward me.

  I look at the man watching me carefully. We haven’t exchanged many words since he joined us for breakfast, and I still don’t know what to say. Something like ‘thanks for the orgasm’ seems sort of impersonal and it’s hard to sort out the feelings I have over the nights I’ve spent with him.

  There are nerves, uncertainty. He’s been with hundreds of women, has experience I never will in comparison. Not knowing what to say or how to touch him or how to even show him I’m interested makes me shy away from it all.

  I’m sure he knows about my inexperience, but I doubt he realizes I’ve only had sex one time. And since that was over two years ago, I might as well be a virgin.

  Garrick pecks my temple before rounding the Jeep to get into the driver’s seat and waves us all off before pulling away. My fingers raise to the spot his lips touched, the same one they brushed this morning, before I turn to see both Moffie and her husband watching me.

  “Girl,” my best friend breathes, blinking slowly. “First off, that was so sweet. And second, you totally fucked him.”

  Eli chokes. “Jesus, Moffie.”

  I smack her arm. “Did you really need to say that in front of Eli? No offense,” I murmur sheepishly to him. “It’s just not something I like to discuss with everyone in hearing distance.”

  “None taken. I’ll just be…not here.” He disappears into the house, probably the tiny closet-like office they set up for him in the back, but not before I call out, “I didn’t fuck him, though, just to be clear!”

  At the same time I say that, one of my friend’s neighbors walks out with a young toddler in her arms scowling at us. Moffie snorts at my embarrassment as I grab her arm and yank her inside before we can get lectured.

  As soon as the door is locked, I spin on my heels toward her. “I didn’t,” I repeat firmly, face still on fire from the outburst of information her neighbor now knows.

  She hangs her coat up and turns to me with her hands on her hips. “But you totally did something. Remember the first time Eli and I fooled around? You said I was glowing. Hate to break it to you, but you’ve got the O-glow.”

  “The…?” Oh my God. “I need something to drink for this conversation, and I wish it could be alcohol.”

  Rolling her eyes at my dramatics, she walks into the kitchen down the narrow hall and doesn’t bother seeing if I follow. I sit down at the kitchen table and watch her pull out my favorite homemade cherry limeade concoction that I miss her making for me.

  “Spill,” she demands, putting a glass in front of me and serving herself one.

  So, I do. It’s a condensed version with little detail much to her dismay, but I’m not like her when it comes to intimate stuff. She always loved giving me all the details of her experiences, things I wish I didn’t know whenever I have to see Eli, but I’ve never been that open. Ironic, considering when we were younger I was set to lose my virginity and get as much experience as possible before meeting ‘the one’. I guess as soon as I realized I wanted more, I stopped talking about my many failed experiences of the past.

  My best friend leans back in her chair and grips the glass with one hand and glowers. “I can’t believe that’s all I get. I mean, it’s hot. Who better to experience your first downtown experience with?”

  I blush. “He doesn’t know.”

  “Of course he doesn’t.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Ry, you’ve never been good at talking about stuff like that. Do you want to discuss your one and only time doing the deed? You planned it out, let some total random get between your legs, and only told him you were a virgin after it was done. That’s something most guys want to know before they stick it in you.”

  “He didn’t need to know,” I reason, the same thing I tell her every time this comes up. Looking back, I was stupid. I looked at my virginity like it was a burden. Maybe if there wasn’t so much stigma surrounding it, I would have waited until finding someone worthy of having it.

  The man I found to get the job done had freaked out when he saw the blood, which was a lot less than I expected, and practically tripped over his pants trying to leave. Something about not wanting me to get attached, which is ridiculous.

  I see her point, but that doesn’t change anything from the past and won’t change anything now either. “I know you said I could get experience with Garrick, but it’s… I don’t know. Don’t you think that’ll be messy?”

  “Is this because of what that jackass told you about getting attached? Not everybody who fools around with people get clingy. That’s just something people say as an excuse not to stick around or be more.”

  Tipping my head back, I stare at the ceiling. There’s a water stain in the corner and bugs caught in the light fixture. “If I mess around with Garrick, things could get complicated. I don’t know what I’m doing, and even though he’d happily teach me—”

  “Please let him teach you,” she cuts in, in a dreamy tone.

  I glare at her. “—I’m bound to catch feelings eventually. Then it’ll make a divorce ten times harder when the time comes. You’ll have to watch me eat tubs of ice cream and those pickle flavored potato chips you think are gross.”

  “They are gross.”

  “Not the point. I’d be depressed.”

  “That’s only if you catch feels.”

  How could somebody constantly sleeping with another person not feel something for them in some capacity? We’ve only fooled around twice, and I already feel something for the Australian.

  “You’re totally thinking about his dick,” she remarks casually, sipping her drink.

  I blush. “Stop. Eli can probably hear you and I don’t want people knowing about this.”

  “Knowing that you’re thinking about your husband’s dick? Yes, Rylee. How dare you. You’re definitely going to hell.”

  She and Garrick will get along perfectly.

  Leaning forward, she rests her elbow on the table with a palm propping her chin up to look at me. “You’re overthinking this. Take it a day at a time and see where it goes. He’s faced your parents with you, promised to help with all your medical bills, went down on you—” She laughs at me. “Quit making that face! Some guys don’t like doing that and not only did he not think twice, but he also didn’t expect anything in return.”

  I pale. “Do you think he wanted me to return the favor?”

  “From what you said, no. I mean I’m sure he would have loved you paying special attention to little Garrick, but it isn’t like he asked you to suck his dick or make a move to do anything else. See? You’re overthinking.”

  “You would too in my situation,” I accuse, all but groaning. “You’re lucky that you have Elijah. I thought I’d at least be dating someone by now. Getting serious. Talking engagement. Considering kids, even. I’m stressed.”

  “And horny,” she adds, grinning. I don’t bother expressing my irritation over her blatant, but not untrue, statement. “Think of it this way, Ry. You skipped all the real stressful stuff and got a gorgeous ring and simple wedding. I mean, that’s what you wanted anyway. Nothing big or glamorous or showy. You used to hate thinking about all the money people spend on one day of their lives. In a way, you got your dream wedding.”

  “My parents weren’t there.” Grandpa Al. Grandma Birdie.

  “So throw a reception.”

  My mother brought that up at breakfast, trying to guilt trip me into saying yes. If Garrick hadn’t walked downstairs, I would have caved. I know I’m not off the hook yet. She’ll bring it up until I eventually agree, and Dad won’t bother try
ing to help because he knows Mom will get her way no matter what.

  Moffie nudges my foot with hers. “Just have fun. Enjoy what time you do have with Garrick and ignore everyone else. Except me. You need to keep me in the loop. Maybe give me something signed by him.”

  “Moffie!”

  “You’re right. I can just ask him when he comes to pick you up,” she theorizes. “Do you think I made a fool of myself in front of him earlier?”

  I want to lie, but I know Eli will have that handled. So, I say, “Big time.”

  She groans.

  I smile.

  She flips me off.

  Then we gossip about town news like the most exciting thing that happened in our lives is Mrs. Inger leaving her husband for the mayor’s much younger wife.

  Eli looks ashen when he walks into the kitchen a few hours later, grim eyes directed at me. The laughter between me and Moffie fades quickly as I grip my empty glass.

  Moffie asks, “What is it, babe?”

  “You’re not going to like it.” He stretches out his hand, phone in his palm with an article pulled up. As soon as I wrap my fingers around the Android and pull it to me, my stomach drops.

  Moffie instantly comes up behind me, reading over my shoulder with a hand on my back for comfort. “Oh, hell no.”

  Former Boss of Rylee Simmons Speaks Out Against Newlywed

  Whatever Sarina could have said can’t be good if Eli, a total germaphobe, looks like he wants to hug me.

  It’s Moffie who reads out, “‘Sarina Cunningham of the L.A. Free Press breaks silence on former tabloid writer Rylee Simmons, now Rylee Matthews,’—” I frown at the last name like it still hasn’t hit me. “—‘regarding the writer’s conflict of interest following her marriage to Grammy award-winning Australian singer Garrick Matthews.”

  “Conflict of interest?” I repeat in confusion, shaking my head slowly as my friend continues reading.

  “’Cunningham states that Simmons was assigned to Matthews after Violet Wonders made news following reports of a possible breakup, where she involved herself with the singer to get money from the Free Press. In a statement given to Hollywood Exposed, Cunningham states, ‘If Rylee Simmons has any sense, she’ll return the money given to her by the Free Press before she quit. She withheld information by personally involving herself in her work, and this isn’t the first time. I should have fired her years ago when she was sleeping with Zayne Gray from the same band.’”