by Rina Kent
“Whatev,” Addy mutters, and tosses the dress at me. “Don’t you even try wearing underwear with that. It’ll show.” Then she struts over to me with a joint in one hand, and a mascara wand in the other. “Now sit, and let me work my magic.”
I hold up a finger, but I don’t waste any time grabbing the joint. She lights it for me, her green eyes twinkling as I hit it hard.
“Don’t make me look like a whore,” I say, wiggling my finger in her face. I extend another finger. “And don’t tell me what I can and can’t wear with this dress.”
Addy cocks her head, but doesn’t argue. I sink onto her dressing table’s stool and tip my head back so she can apply makeup on my face. Meanwhile, I’m puffing away at her joint and hoping like fuck Marigold went straight to bed without checking my room again.
I’ll be the first to admit, I’m probably a bit too sparkly, even for a black-tie event. But fuck it, I haven’t felt this pretty in years, and I used to make a point of dressing up whenever I went out back in the day. Mom’s cocktail dress drapes me like spun platinum. It hugs my body in all the right places, emphasizing tits and ass as if it was designed by the only heterosexual designer in high fashion.
Maybe it’s the makeup. Addy’s got a real fine touch — my eyes are big and green but not whorish at all. My lips dark, and full, but nothing resembling those of a prostitute’s. My cheekbones glimmer, and this is the first time ever that I’ve noticed my décolletage.
Addy’s shoes seal the deal. Black, understated, two inches high. I manage to walk in them, but only just.
But it’s worth all the moments between steps when I’m not sure if I’ll ever find the ground again. Because, fuck it, shit looks fantastic two inches up from my usual eye level.
“So you’re moving?” I ask, twisting in front of Addy’s mirror. I’m perversely fixated on how good this dress makes me look. And also slightly distressed how much I look like my mother, but I’m doing my good darn best to ignore that.
Maybe it’s the hair. I don’t know what the hell Addy has in her shampoo, but my hair has a life of its own. It tumbles down my back in a raven cascade of bouncy curls I’ve never seen before.
“Yeah,” Addy says quietly. She’s behind me, toying with my hair as she sticks a few glittering pins in it and hoists it up into a messy bun. “There’s been some shit at my parent’s company. We’re moving south for a while until it blows over.”
“Shit, Addy, that sucks.”
She shrugs at me in the mirror and bends down until our heads are level. “Doesn’t matter. You know what does matter?” She grips my shoulders and grins at my reflection.
I nod. “Getting even.”
“Getting even,” she repeats softly. She steps back and claps her hand. “You’re ready.”
I stand and take one last twirl in front of the mirror.
Fuck, I didn’t think it would be possible, but I look amazing.
I hold up a hand. “Shit, hang on. I almost forgot something.” I rummage around in my backpack until I find my mother’s necklace.
“What’s…?” But Addy’s voice trails away as she comes to my side. “Fuck, Indi, that’s...”
“It was my mother’s.” I hold it up and try to clasp it at the back of my neck, but Addy bats away my hands.
She secures the clasp and stares at my reflection with wide eyes. “You look gorgeous,” she murmurs.
I drop my gaze and grab hold of the sapphire around my neck. The light catches on Briar’s bracelet, and I stare at them with wide eyes.
It’s as if they were made for each other.
“Let’s get going,” Addy says, snapping me out of the thought. “Else everyone’s gonna be too trashed to notice when we arrive.”
Briar
After the fifth pool game, I’m ready to leave. It’s fucking obvious Indi isn’t coming, so there’s no point in me hanging around here. Not unless my only motive tonight is getting fucked up.
I head for the main kitchen in search of water and a clear head, and find Marcus cutting up lines of coke on Dylan’s granite countertop. A few girls stand nearby, waiting patiently for their turn with the rolled-up dollar bill he’s holding. I grab a water and chug down half of it before he realizes I’m nearby.
“Better get some before it’s all gone,” he says, swiping the back of his hand over his nose as he sniffs.
I shake my head. “Not in the mood for that shit tonight.”
“Sure?” Marcus straightens, and one of the girls waiting for her turn at the lines of coke steps up. He grabs her around the waist, spins her around, and starts nuzzling her neck.
I roll my eyes, and I’m about to leave when he calls out, “Dude, she’s not coming. No reason you shouldn’t enjoy yourself.”
I wave at him, shaking my head as I make my way to the front door. Fuck this — I’ve got a shit-ton of studying to do anyway. If I get a good night’s sleep, then I can crack open my textbooks nice and early tomorrow, and get done by latest Sunday afternoon.
I’m trotting downstairs to the main floor when something catches my eye.
A glimmer of silver.
No, platinum.
A slight, yet curvy figure. A mess of dark hair.
Indi.
I stop walking, my hand gripping the railing tight as my phone starts vibrating in my pocket. She has her back to me, and from the expressive hand gestures she’s flailing around, she looks mightily pissed off at the doorman.
My legs feel rusted in place, but I force them to take me downstairs.
Jeremiah flinches when I grab his shoulder. I hear something like, “I tried calling, but…” before I steer him out of the way.
“You came,” I say like a moron.
Indi spins to face me. Her eyes are impossibly wide, gorgeously luster, unsurprisingly fierce.
“He said it’s too late,” she says, tilting her head to the side.
“She’s with me,” I say, my voice dropping several octaves below normal.
I won’t lie — I’ve been spending the past hour and a half drinking in the hopes that I would eventually forget that Indi might show up. I’m more than a little tipsy, and ridiculously glad she’s here.
“Me too, right?”
My eyes skip reluctantly past Indi. Addison’s standing behind her, a head taller and seventy thousand times as arrogant.
If Indi hadn’t grabbed my hand right then, I would have told Addison to fuck off. But when I look down into Indi’s imploring gaze, I’m so off-balance, all I can do is nod.
Indi releases my hand, and the pair of them sweep past me without a second glance. I’m left staring at Jeremiah with a frown and an inexplicable urge to take Marcus up on his offer for a line of coke.
Instead, I follow Indi and Addison inside, feeling for all the world like a sheep who’s only just realized who the fucking sheepdog in this situation was.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Indi
This house is a masterpiece of architectural genius. There’s nothing cozy or open-plan about it — it’s a sprawling collection of intimate lounges and hidey holes that seem custom-made for making out. No wonder Dylan throws these parties on the regular. If this were a club, he’d be making a killing.
Addison has hold of my hand, and I’ll be honest, it’s the only thing keeping me grounded right now. We had two glasses of wine and a fat blunt while I was getting ready at her house, and since my last meal was a sandwich at lunch, I’m flying pretty fucking high.
The temptation to turn around and see if Briar is still following is powerful, but I know I’ll trip and fall if I try. I didn’t want to let go of Briar’s hand, but Addy’s right — tonight, I’m in charge. If anything, it will piss him off so much, he’s bound to take back control in the worst way.
And we’ll be there, ready and waiting to capture every deviant moment.
Addy seems to know this place well. She tugs me after her without hesitation as she weaves around the kids littered throughout Dylan’s house. Mus
ic thumps in the background, weed and cigarette smoke hang thick in the air, and almost everyone I pass stinks of booze. I haven’t seen this many dilated pupils since I last partied at Queenies just outside Lakeview.
Addy sashays us through a kitchen, grabbing a pair of pink drinks from an ice bucket without pausing. The music gets louder. The congestion in the passages thickens.
Heads turn to follow us as we pass. Some envious, some considering, others openly leering.
I glimpse a big open-plan room with two pool tables, a dartboard, and a swarm of kids. Instead of heading inside, Addy leads me down a staircase.
It’s dark down here — the only light comes from a projector screen that’s playing some freaky fractals and a mirror ball that doesn’t seem to be doing much good. Here, the music is a physical entity. It pounds into my body with relentless force, making me hesitate before Addy tugs me after her.
She spins around, hands me one of the pink bottles she swiped from the kitchen, and raises it for a cheer.
“To getting fucked up!” she yells.
“To getting fucked up!” I yell back, and clink our bottles.
Damn, the music is intoxicating. Even as Addy starts shifting to the rhythm, my eyes slide closed. I slip away from the here and now, and lose myself to the track.
I’m rudely drawn back to the present when hands grip around my waist, and for a moment I wonder what on earth Addy’s doing. But when my eyes fly open, her eyes are locked on someone behind me.
A jumble of strange sensations flood me. That exact look had been in her eyes in that dream — hatred.
Marcus or Briar?
But as soon as I’m drawn back into the hard body behind me, I know it’s Briar who’s holding me. His smell envelops me, comforts me, arouses me all at the same time. I breathe him in, arching my ass against his groin.
In these shoes, I’m actually the right height for him.
I can’t help the coy smile that touches my mouth when I feel him harden against me a moment later.
“Let’s talk,” he says in my ear, his hands sliding over my belly.
“Let’s dance,” I yell back, not caring if he can hear or not. Addy’s turned her back on us as if she can’t stand the sight of us dancing together, and it takes sincere effort for me not to giggle at her theatrics.
I spin in Briar’s arms, drape my wrists over his shoulders, and start twisting in time with the beat. I’m far from an accomplished dancer, but what I lack in technical training I make up for in enthusiasm.
I can see the battle in his eyes — he wants to maintain eye contact, but his eyelids flutter how badly he wants to look at my curves.
And as soon as he crumbles and his eyes drag over my body, I snap my fingers in front of his face. “Up here!”
His eyes narrow, and his lip lifts up in a snarl. He grabs me and crushes our bodies together. His hands grab hard onto my ass, squeezing me through the dress. With those long fingers of his, he’s almost touching my pussy.
I go on tiptoes, trying to move away from his touch, but he just gives me a bemused smile and grabs the back of my neck.
When he kisses me, everything vanishes.
The crowd.
The music.
Everything.
All that’s left is the feel of his lips against mine. The urgency of his tongue; how he forces it deep, deep inside my mouth. The hardness of his cock; irrefutable evidence of how much he wants me.
Fuck, it’s too much. I honestly hope Addy’s paying attention, because I’m about to skip stage two-through-seven of our plan and go straight for the money shot.
Briar
It worked. Indi doesn’t want to dance anymore. She breaks off our kiss, looking shell shocked and more than a little breathless.
“Come,” I tell her, grabbing her hand.
She nods.
I turn and lead her out of the crowded downstairs room Dylan converted into his own private club a year or so back.
There are too many stairs between us and our destination. I start taking them two at a time, then three, until Indi pulls back on my hand.
She swoons away from me, grabbing on the railing and shaking her head.
Too fast?
Fuck it.
Too slow.
I jump down the two stairs between us, scoop her up, and ignore her distressed squeal as I race up the stairs.
“Briar, stop!” But she’s laughing so much, she’s barely coherent.
I reach the top floor of Dylan’s house, and try the first door.
Locked.
The second door’s open, but as soon as it swings open there’s a yell from inside.
Occupied.
I back out, slamming the door behind me with a growl stemming in the back of my throat. That’s why doors have locks, idiots!
Somewhere in the course of arriving here tonight and now, Dylan’s house has transformed into a fucking opium den. Every room upstairs is either locked or occupied — the master bedroom by the fucker himself and three girls.
Jesus Christ.
“Briar, slow down. We can—”
“Shut it,” I snap.
Sure enough, when I glance down, Indi’s mouth is open, and her eyes are twinkling with anger. She squirms and twists hard enough to slip out of my grip. But she only gets two paces before I grab her arm and haul her back to me.
“Too late,” I growl. “Should have run when you had the chance, my little virgin.”
“Briar!” She yanks at her arm, but I just tighten my grip. “What are you—?”
Instead of letting her finish, I haul her toward me, push her against the wall, and cage her in with my arms. “I told you, we both know what’s gonna happen tonight.”
She opens her mouth, but words fail her.
Which suits me fucking perfectly.
I grab her ass, relishing the feel of her curves as I hoist her up against the wall. She’s still fighting me but, fuck, we both know it doesn’t matter.
My hands slide under her glorious dress, and I grab the side of her underwear. Tug. Draw it down her thighs. It gets stuck of course — her legs are wrapped around mine, so there’s not much leeway — but I have access to her cunt and that’s all I care about right now.
I kiss her. Ferociously, savagely, until she moans against my mouth. I can’t make out if those sounds are laden with fear or passion, but I’m way past the point of caring. My need for Indi has surpassed anything remotely humane. I’m ready to burst, like an overripe fruit, if I don’t fuck her, right here, right fucking now.
I zip down my fly, wrestle out my cock, and push it against her entrance.
Her wetness coats my crown, my fingers. I break off our kiss and haul much-needed oxygen into my lungs.
“Please, Briar,” Indi chokes out.
I have to force my eyes open, and when they do, I see hers are brimming with tears. I swallow down a growl of impatience and rub the tip of my dick over her wet as fuck pussy. “What?” I manage, my voice so thick and low, I’m surprised she can even understand me.
“Not like this,” she whispers in a shaking voice. “Please…not like this.”
Maybe it’s the way she says it. Maybe it’s the look in her eyes. No longer fierce as a falcon, but desperate, hopeful, pleading.
I press my cock against her, my body trembling with its need to force my way inside her hot, wet cunt. But when she mewls into my ear, her fingers digging into the back of my neck as if she’s bracing herself…
“Fuck,” I murmur into her ear. “You’re really…?”
I move away, shoving my complaining cock back inside my pants. Indi lets out a tattered sob, but as soon as her shoes touch the ground, the sound cuts off. When I step back, her damp eyes could have belonged to someone else. She glares at me, her mouth in a line and her hands fisted at her sides.
I’d just been kidding with the whole virgin thing.
I don’t know why, but this changes everything. Our games, this back and forth. Right now, I feel
like a filthy deviant for even attempting to be inside her.
I let my eyes fall down her body, but before I get far, they’re drawn back up to her collarbones. I’m not a jewelry guru or any such thing, but I need all the distraction I can right now.
I grab the necklace hanging around her neck. The one that so perfectly matches her bracelet. “This is—”
“Briar! There you are.”
My body moves on some subconscious level. I step back and let go of Indi’s necklace without thought. From the corner of my eye, I see her shifting from side to side as she tugs up her panties.
Marcus strides up to us wearing a cocky smile, a girl from the cheerleading squad trailing him like a lost lamb.
“You know Jennika, right?”
I blink hard, shake my head. “Yeah, sure…”
Marcus cocks his head to the closest doorway. “She’s got something to show you.”
“Uh…Marcus…” I tug at my dress shirt, and glance back at Indi. She’s glaring at Marcus, but as soon as I look at her, she must feel my eyes on her because she suddenly wraps her arms around herself.
“This isn’t the right time…” I say, gesturing weakly at the girl as she comes to a stop beside Marcus.
But he’s not looking at me anymore — his gaze is locked on Indi.
No, not her.
Her necklace.
“Where did you—?” he starts, pointing at her like she’s grown a third arm. But before any of us can react, his face breaks into a warm smile. “Don’t you look fucking gorgeous?” he says, cocking his head to the side. “Now I’m getting your vibe, bro.”
I step forward warily, but Marcus doesn’t move even though his eyes take on the gleam of a voracious predator.
“Makes Jennika here look like a ten-dollar whore,” Marcus says.
Jennika squeaks out a protest, scowls at Marcus, and storms away down the hall.
“Dude, that’s not—” I start, but I cut off when Marcus steps right up to Indi.
I stick out my arm, blocking him, and he does come up short, but without acknowledging me or the arm in his way.
