by Gemma Weir
My lips part and my mouth falls open as I stare at him. “Arlo, did Susan put vodka in your lemonade, because mine wasn’t laced and now I’m a little disappointed?”
“Nope. I’m as sober as a judge, darling,” he says, that mischievous grin still firmly in place.
“You’re an asshole. This is all just another game and I don’t know the rules. It’s too cruel to play with me again,” I say quietly.
The smile falls from his lips and he moves closer. “I’m not playing a game, little ghost. I’m not that cruel, at least not to you. I took the engagement joke too far. I never considered what could happen to you, and I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am for my part in what your parents did to you. But even though I do feel really fucking guilty, I’m not sorry that you’re here, I’m not sorry that you’re one of us now. I might be an asshole, but at least for the next six months I’m your asshole.”
His lips press to mine and he kisses me fast and hard, taking my mouth like he’s worried I’ll push him away.
A moment later and his lips are gone. As my eyes blink open, he’s looking down at me, all his beautiful lies sparkling in his eyes. “Go get showered and changed, then come watch a movie with our friends.”
Then he’s gone, walking away from me and leaving me breathless once again in his wake.
Eight
Arlo
I’m walking away from her again, even though if I’m honest, it’s the last thing I want to do. Today was so much better than I was expecting. She’s only been here with all of us for a few days, and somehow she’s easily fit into our group dynamic as if she’s been friends with us for years. Tonight is the first time I had any clue that she thought we were being nice to her just out of guilt.
I mean guilt is definitely a factor, or it was when I insisted she come and stay with me, but it’s more than that now we’ve had a chance to spend a bit of time with her. Tally is easy to be around. I don’t know if that’s because she’s just a generally chilled out person, or if she’s so used to being alone that she doesn’t have that competitive vibe most of the girls in our social circle do.
Rich girls tend to be elitist snobs. They sit and chat about designer labels and expensive vacations to must-be-seen-at locations. They compare notes on guys they’ve slept with, guys they want to sleep with, and those they want to tie down and marry.
We do everything the average American teenager does, only we do it to the extreme, because we can. That overt extravagance becomes a habit, because the world is literally your oyster when you have money, resources, and power at your fingertips.
Tally isn’t like that. She’s polite, kind, and unassuming, until you poke her. Then from what I know of her so far, she’s feisty, a warrior with a strength that I don’t remember ever seeing in any of the other women I know, not even the grown ones.
I like her. It sounds so fucking third grade, but I really fucking like her. We all do. The guys are completely enamored with her. Hell, Olly’s half in love with her already, yet she thinks we’re only including her because we feel bad about the whole fake engagement thing.
Today when she walked down the stairs in that red dress, I didn’t feel even a hint of shame about fooling everyone into believing she was my fiancée, because I wanted it to be true. She looked like a fucking goddess and the caveman alpha male that’s hidden inside of me was beating his fucking chest and calling himself a winner, because she was looking at me and wearing my ring.
Nothing was fake for me today: not when I kissed her, not when I touched her, and not when I was staring at her like I wished I could see her naked body, instead of the mindfuck tease those dresses she was wearing offered.
I want her more than I’ve ever wanted another woman. I don’t care if I get her for an hour, a week, or the next six fucking months. I want to own her, just to see what it’s like.
I told her I was hers, but I had to put a time limit on it to remind myself that as much as I want her right now, she’s not actually mine. I can’t keep her. She’s using me, she told me straight out that’s what she was doing, so why don’t I care anymore? Why does this irrepressible need for her seem to be outweighing my common sense?
Striding into my room, I close the door tightly behind me and exhale loudly. I’ve never let a woman get into my head like Tally is. I’ve never been anything less than calculated and calm. But Tallulah fucking Archibald makes my thoughts chaotic in a way that feels like the best feeling in the world.
Stripping off my wet tux, I drop it to the floor and head naked for my shower, pressing the panel on the wall that controls the temperature and flow as water begins to cascade from the ceiling. The one good thing the designer who made the white monstrosity downstairs did, was put touchscreen-controlled showers in all the bathrooms, and mine is epic.
Stepping under the water, I let my head fall forward and try to banish all thoughts of Tally dancing in the fountain—her dress wet, her smile real and wide—from my head. My dick has been at half-mast all day, and now that I’m alone there’s no denying how fucking turned on I am.
Grabbing myself roughly, I stroke my fist up and down as images of Tally assault me. From the very first time I met her and thought she was her sister, to the way she felt pressed up against me as I stole that first kiss from her on the steps of the school.
Faster and faster I stroke, spreading my legs wider as I grip my balls with my free hand, wishing it were her touching me. Wishing she was here, her wet body gloriously naked and sliding against me, her tits begging to be sucked, touched, fucked.
I’ve never seen her naked, but my imagination fills in the blanks. Her pussy wet and dripping, begging to be filled, her eyes full of lust as she turns around and braces her hands against the tile, teasing me, begging me to take her from behind.
A groan slips from my lips and I grip my cock tighter, the twinge of pain pushing me over the edge as I imagine Tally looking over her naked shoulder at me, wet and willing and indisputably mine. Hot cum bursts from me in long jets that are immediately washed away by the water of the shower and I slide my hand up and down my length slowly, squeezing every drop of release from my dick before my arms fall limply to my sides.
“Fuck,” I whisper into the air. I want her, even though I shouldn’t, and I’m not sure I can fight my desire, or that I even want to fight it. I want her on my arm, in my bed, and I think I might be too spoiled to convince myself that I can’t have her.
I used her and now she’s openly using me. This all started with a joke, but I’m not laughing now. The world thinks we’re a couple and the only people who know that isn’t true are in this house.
She wants to watch her family fall from grace, and I want to help her. I’ll drag my little ghost into the spotlight and make sure everyone sees her. I’ll stand at her side, with our friends at our back while the Archibalds lose all the money they were prepared to sacrifice their daughter for, and if I’m lucky, maybe I’ll seduce Tally and make these lies real while I’m doing it.
Because I’m eighteen years old, rich beyond most people’s wildest dreams, and indulged by my position in life. There’s rarely something I want that I can’t have and I want Tally.
Nine
Tallulah
After showering all of the fountain water out of my hair and cleansing the two inches of makeup from my face, I twist my hair up into a knot, throw on my baggy overalls and a sports bra, and head back downstairs. The guys will probably only be in shorts or sweats, so there’s no reason to dress up.
I follow the sound of the TV and find the guys lounging on two huge couches that fill a comfortable and cozy space. “Why have we been sitting in the uber white living room, when you have this comfy den?” I ask as I pad through the door.
“We use the terrace more than the white room, but this is where we chill to watch movies,” Arlo says, shuffling along the couch to make space for me.
Climbing around Watson’s legs, I lower myself into the space next to Arlo, tensing a l
ittle when he drops his arm along the back of the couch, his finger drawing circles on my shoulder.
“Beer?” Carson says, opening a wooden unit to the side of the couch he’s sat on and revealing a small refrigerator full of bottles of beer and cans of soda.
“Yes please.”
Carson throws the bottle to me, but Arlo plucks it out of the air and twists the cap off before magnanimously handing it to me.
“Thanks,” I whisper, trying to ignore the way Arlo is watching me, like he’s planning something. Clearing my throat, I take a drink of my beer. “What movie are we watching?”
“How do you feel about action movies?” Olly asks, the remote in his hands as he scrolls through the movie selection on the TV.
“I’m easy as long as it’s not horror. Those films give me nightmares for weeks and I’d be making one of you come with me to the bathroom to make sure there are no clowns or anything in there.” I say, shuddering as memories of the last horror film I watched flash into my mind.
“No creepy clowns, got it,” he says with a laugh, selecting a recently released action movie and hitting play.
Someone dims the lights and I exhale a tired sigh and relax back into the couch cushions, trying to ignore Arlo’s mesmerizingly soft sweeps across my skin. I don’t know how to process his behavior. First he finds out I exist; then he and his friends play a cruel joke on my family and blackmail me into playing alone. Then he searched for me, tracked me down at a hotel and insisted I move in here with him and his dad. Now he’s casually touching me, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. He’s kissing me like we’re actually a couple and not just two strangers that are using each other.
I don’t get it and I hate that I feel so conflicted. He’s beautiful, but I’ve seen the calculated cruelty he’s capable of delivering. I’ve seen the steel behind his eyes and dealt with his uncaring disinterest.
As I muse why I feel so comfortable with this group of men who aren’t my friends, but who have shown me more friendship than I’ve ever had, Susan slips into the room, delivering four huge pizza boxes, then plates, napkins, and silverware that all get ignored as the guys dive into the boxes like starving animals.
I’ve only ever had pizza a handful of times. Mom always said that greasy, carb rich food was completely out of the question if we didn’t want to get fat, so I only had it for the first time last summer when I was in Italy.
Leaning forward, I snag a piece; the cheese is gooey and hot when I take a bite. My moan of pleasure has all four guys staring at me. “What?” I say, my slice poised at my lips, ready to take another bite.
“Fuck, you can’t make noises like that,” Watson groans, earning a punch in the arm from Arlo.
“What are you talking about? I’m appreciating how good this pizza is. I haven’t had any in months,” I say, shrugging before taking another bite and moaning again when the rich tomato, spicy pepperoni, and creamy cheese hits my taste buds.
“Eighteen years old and I just figured out that pizza is the way to seduce girls,” Carson says, his brow wrinkled, his shoulders slumped forward.
“Carbs are like crack when you’re forced to live on salad, grilled chicken, and quinoa,” I say, finishing my slice and immediately reaching for a second as the guys still watch me.
“I’ve never fucking understood why girls don’t eat properly. I like a bit of meat on a girl, something to hold onto. These super skinny girls do nothing for me,” Olly says, pushing the pizza box closer to me as I finish my second slice.
“Carrigan basically lives on green juice. She hates that I eat a proper breakfast every morning,” I say, taking a pull of my beer before reaching for another slice of pizza.
After finishing my fifth slice of pizza, I fall back into the couch, rubbing at my stomach. “That was the best.”
Arlo’s rough chuckle sounds closer than before and I realize that I’ve unknowingly moved closer to him. I go to move, but his hand clamps down on my shoulder keeping me in place. “No, stay put,” he orders gruffly as he lays back too, his thigh pressing against mine, his arm moving to rest over my shoulder, curling me into him.
I should protest, I should move, but the weight of his arm is keeping me in place.
“Relax,” he whispers, his lips pressed against my ear. “We’re just watching a movie.”
Inch by inch the tension leaves my body and I allow myself to settle, not moving any closer, but not pulling away either. The heat of his chest, the lowered light, the food and beer, all combine and before I know it my eyes are closing as sleep overtakes me.
“Tally.”
“Tally, baby, wake up.”
The rough familiar voice pulls me from sleep, and I blink my eyes open, finding myself cuddled up against a hard chest. Lust, hot and vivid, pulses through me as a flash of the dream I was having before I woke up appears in my mind. Arlo between my legs, making me orgasm over and over again, my nails clawing at his tattoo, moaning and crying out his name as I crash into bliss.
“Hey there, little ghost. I thought I was going to have to carry you up to bed,” Arlo says, his voice a low purr that sends warm tendrils pouring through my body.
“Hey,” I whisper, my voice still thick with sleep, my cheeks flushed. I’m pressed against smooth warm skin, my hands tangled in soft cotton. When it dawns on me that I’m lying on him, my face in the curve of his neck, my hands gripping his shirt, I release him, sitting abruptly upright, heat filling my cheeks. “I’m, oh God, sorry.” I mumble, mortified that I’ve somehow managed to snuggle into him as I slept.
“Hey,” he says, laughter filling his voice. “Don’t be embarrassed, I like having you rubbing up against me. The noises you make in your sleep are fucking adorable. I recorded them so I can listen to them the next time I jerk off.”
The chorus of male laughter that fills the room makes my skin bloom red and my blood boil with indignant anger. “Oh my God,” I groan, covering my face with my hands as I push myself to my feet, hating that he’s embarrassing me in a room full of guys.
Arlo’s laugh is loud as he stands up and reaches for me. “You are too fucking cute, little ghost, or should I call you little moaner now,” he chuckles amusedly.
“God, for a minute I stupidly thought you weren’t a complete asshole” I cry, refusing to look up at him, shrugging out of his embrace and storming out of the room, hearing the guys laughter coming from behind me and hating them for fooling me into thinking I was one of them.
Strong arms catch me around the waist before I can escape into the room I’m staying in. “Come on, little moaner, don’t go to bed mad. Didn’t anyone tell you that’s the key to a successful marriage,” he laughs, his lips pressed against my neck.
“We’re not actually getting married, you dick,” I snarl, futilely pushing at his hands around my waist.
His arms clamp tighter around me. “Kiss me and I’ll let you go,” he rasps, his teeth nibbling on my neck.
“No” I cry, clawing at his hands.
“I can do this all night, Tally,” he breathes against my neck, biting down a little harder until all I feel is pain.
“Why should I kiss you?” I ask, stilling in his arms.
“Because I want you to,” he answers, pressing a hot open mouth kiss against where my pulse is rapidly beating in my neck, replacing the pain with tingling pleasure.
“Do you always get what you want?” my voice shakes and my breathing becomes ragged.
“Always,” he growls, biting down harder again and making pain burst inside of me, then soothing it with his lips.
I part my lips, intending to speak, but before I get a chance he spins me around, lifting me until my back hits the wall and his hands hold my wrists tightly at my sides. His lips crash against mine and I moan into his mouth, the sound forced from me as he pushes his pelvis into mine, his hard dick grinding against my heated sex.
He kisses me like he owns me, like he hates me, like he just can’t make himself stop, and I kiss him back, s
hoving all my pain and hurt and want and anger into his mouth, forcing him to take it all. He growls, shoving his dick even harder against me, his hips smashing into mine as he tries to penetrate me through my clothes.
His growl becomes a snarl and he releases one of my wrists to grab my leg, lifting me off the ground and forcing me to wrap my legs around him so he can grind his dick against my swollen aching core.
My back leaves the wall and he carries me into the room opposite mine, slamming me back against the wall, one hand holding me to him at the back of my thigh, while the other rips my overalls off my shoulders, roughly shoving my sports bra up and freeing my breasts.
Leaving my lips, he takes my breast into his mouth and bites my nipple. I scream out in pain, but he ignores me, his hips rolling against me, his dick hitting my clit as my screams turn to moans when he soothes my nipple with his tongue, alternating between pain and pleasure as my brain centers on him and nothing else.
Releasing my breast, he moves to the other side, biting and sucking until I don’t know anything except the feeling of him and all I care about is this mounting ball of pleasure inside of me. His lips find mine again and he kisses me roughly, his one hand finding my neck and squeezing, holding me still as he devours me. Somewhere at the back of my mind I know I should probably stop this, but I don’t.
I push closer, grinding against him, kissing him, pulling at his hair, clawing at him for more. My overalls fall from my hips and land on the floor at my feet and he lifts me up and away, my legs wrapping back around his hips.
His lips leave mine as my back hits a comforter and I feel the sharp sting of pain as he nips at my nipple. I should make him stop, but I never want him to stop. I pull at his hair, holding him to me as I bite at my bottom lip between gasps and moans. His hand moves between my legs, rubbing circles over my soaking wet panties, the heel of his hand hitting my clit and making my hips arch off the bed urging him closer.
