by Nicole Fox
I stumble back, confused, my legs weak. “Why?”
Finn stands up, and I can see the obvious tenting in his pants. He wants this as badly as I do, but he won’t give in. Why not?
“You need to finish getting ready.”
I cross my arms, frowning. “No, I just need to finish.”
Finn ignores my pouting and grabs my dress from the bed. It’s one I bought for my old school’s formal last year. The skirt fans out in a pale pink A-line that is shorter than it should be, but still acceptable for a school dance.
“You aren’t wearing this,” he says, tossing it over his shoulder. Before I can get offended, he grabs a black box from under his bed and lays it out. “Open it.”
I’m still angry with him for changing the subject so abruptly, right when I was about to finally find my release.
But I know that fighting his orders won’t get me what I ultimately want. It never has. It never will.
So, I swallow down my disappointment and open the box.
Inside is a bright red dress… if it can be called that.
I hold it up and see large slits going directly up the front of each thigh, nearly to the hip. A red string is laced up the slit to keep the fabric from flapping open and revealing too much, though I think that line might already be crossed.
“Is this for me?”
“It isn’t for me,” Finn laughs, stepping into his closet and pulling out a garment bag—his suit, I’m sure. “Put it on.”
I hold it up again, my frown deepening. “Finn, I can’t. It’s—”
Finn whips off his shirt, showing off the golden tan torso I’ve actually started dreaming about, and my words die in my throat.
When he shoves down his jeans and is left standing in a pair of black boxer briefs, I forget all of my arguments entirely.
God, I want him.
I want him so badly that I’m willing to do just about anything to please him.
Anything to make him touch me.
To get him to give me what I want. What I need.
So, I bite back my hesitation and pull the dress on.
The slits go up so high that the vibrating panties are visible, so I hike the tight skirt of the dress down as low as I can and pull the panties up. It’s a very indelicate procedure, made all the more indelicate by me nearly losing my balance on my heels and falling on my face, but I manage to stay upright.
I feel naked. Even more naked than I was just a second ago.
With no panties on and the whole of my thighs and hips on display through the laced-over slits, I can’t imagine walking into a school dance like this.
Showing Finn my body is one thing, but my teachers will be at the dance.
My mom will be there.
As I stand in the mirror, studying myself from all angles, I try to explain this to Finn, but he doesn’t seem to hear me.
“My boobs are popping out of it, and one wrong move and my pussy will be on display for everyone.”
“My pussy,” Finn says, walking up behind me and wrapping his arms around my middle. His hand smooths down my stomach—every dip and curve of which is visible through the skin tight material—until his palm is directly over my heat.
I turn in his arm so we are facing one another and take a moment to marvel at the beauty of him. He has on his suit pants, but no shirt yet, and I drag my fingernails down his pecs and abs.
“That’s just it. I don’t want anyone to see any part of me … except for you.”
I’m surprised by the truth of my words.
Finn seems to be surprised as well. His hands grip my waist and pull me towards him possessively.
For a moment, I feel like I might finally get what I’m so desperate for. Release. Surrender.
Until, just like every other time we’ve had a tender moment all night, Finn pushes me away suddenly and goes to the bed where his shirt and jacket are laid out.
He shrugs into the white shirt, buttoning it with expert fingers. The material is fitted perfectly, showing off the taper in his waist and the strong, square lines of his shoulders.
I turn back to the mirror to hide my disappointment.
I tug the hem of the dress down, wondering if there is any way to make it cover more of my body. I’m still toying with it when Finn appears behind me.
His eyes are dark and hooded, his brows pulled low. He is silent as he grabs the zipper under my arm and slides it down, opening the dress.
“What are you—”
“I changed my mind on the dress. It’s too much. You’re mine,” he says, pushing the thin straps from my shoulders and down my arms until my breasts bounce free.
He pauses to admire them, licking his lips, before meeting my eyes again.
“And I don’t want to share you tonight. Or ever.”
His hands are warm as he pushes the dress over my hips.
“Then don’t share me,” I breathe. “Take me now. Please.”
I’m still holding out hope that he’ll do it. Lick me, fuck me, own me. I need it. I need it so bad.
But yet again, it’s a cruel denial.
When the dress is a puddle around my feet, Finn plucks the pink dress I brought with me from the floor and holds it out to me, covering the front of me with the fabric like he can’t even bear to look at my naked body.
I’m burning up with shame and frustration, even as he leans forward and presses his lips gently to mine.
Then Finn is gone, walking away before I can even open my eyes.
When I do, he is already in the hallway. “Get dressed, and I’ll meet you downstairs. If we don’t hurry, we’ll be late.”
35
Lily
I was already fairly unexcited for the dance. I spend enough time with all these people during the school day. All of them hate me, fear me, or both.
It’s not exactly the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
But after what just happened at Finn’s house, I’m even less excited than I was before.
He teased me with an orgasm for over an hour, denied me my release again and again, and now he’s pretty much refusing to touch me altogether.
I’m frustrated, and I want to leave. I want to take him back to his house and have my way with him.
Or let him have his way with me.
Either way is fine. I’m not picky.
“Did Finn treat you right the night of the auction?”
A hand claps down on my shoulder, and I turn to see Caleb standing next to me, a cup of punch in his hand. He holds his head high, shoulders broad, chest out.
“Fuck off, Caleb,” Finn says, shooing him away like a fly. “Where’s your date?”
Caleb’s smirk doesn’t change. “I didn’t bring one. You know I like to wait for the after-party to make my final decision.”
Viktor strolls up, his six-three frame towering over all of us, a petite cheerleader tucked into his side. “What’s the matter, Caleb? Was your escort busy tonight?”
“She wasn’t an escort,” Caleb grits out, his smile finally falling away. “You all need to let that go.”
“Sure she wasn’t,” Viktor says, rolling his eyes.
They’re so mean to each other sometimes. It’s hard to understand how they’re friends at all. I can’t decide if it’s a boy thing in general, or a Golden Boys thing in particular.
“Do you want a drink?” Finn whispers in my ear.
He has been keeping a small wedge of space between us all night. He stands just close enough that I can feel his warmth leaching into me, and feel his breath on my neck.
But he won’t touch me. Not even to dance.
I shiver at his nearness and shake my head. “No, thank you.”
“I tried to spike the punch bowl, but Mr. Woodson is guarding it like his life depends on it,” Viktor says.
“It probably does. He is a middle-aged PE teacher. What would he do if he lost his job?” The cheerleader on Viktor’s arm sneers in Mr. Woodson’s direction, clearly disgusted by him.
When she turns to me, the expression doesn’t fade, and I understand immediately where I stand. The rich kids in this school view their teachers as servants.
They view me as whatever’s lower than that.
Her eyes catch on the lock around my neck, and I can practically see the gears in her mind turning, wondering how I ended up here with Finn Foster.
Noah joins the group, head down, shoulders slouched like he wishes he could disappear.
Caleb throws his arm around Noah’s shoulders and pulls him in close. “My fellow stag. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one avoiding a ball and chain.”
Viktor puts a hand to his mouth and whispers loudly, “The difference is that Noah didn’t even try to get a date.”
Caleb punches him in the shoulder and then smiles like nothing is wrong.
It is surprising that two members of the Golden Boys are dateless, yet Finn asked me to accompany him. It wouldn’t have been weird for him to come alone.
So, why did he ask me? The answer to that is especially elusive since he won’t even touch me.
I try to shift my weight slightly to lean into him, but he steps away and shoves his hands in his pockets.
The saving grace of the entire evening is that the venue is beautiful.
At my old school, dances were held in the gym with cheap string lights and a few panels of tulle hanging from the ceiling.
But at Ravenlake Prep, it feels like I’ve walked into a fairy-tale realm.
Fabric drapes from the center of the ceiling out to the edges of the room and then down to the floor, making it feel like we are in a tent. Large chandeliers hang from the ceiling like glowing clouds, and every table has a glowing paper lantern in the center of it. The room is all soft light and lush fabrics and beautiful people.
Finn is the most beautiful of all.
He looks unreal in his suit. The material is tailored to his exact specifications, so I can see the taper of his waist and the strength of his thighs. It makes it all the more difficult to not be able to touch him.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Finn mumbles. I blink, realizing I’ve been staring at him for far too long. Though, he isn’t cursing because of me. No, he is looking over my shoulder.
I turn and see Cora walking towards us, a leather-clad man on her arm.
The guy has to be at least twenty. His hair is long on top with the sides buzzed, and tattoos creep up his neck from beneath the white collar of his shirt. The purple devil on his shoulder is on full display.
“She brought a Hell Prince?” Caleb asks, cracking his knuckles in his palm like we are in a 1950s gang movie and about to get in a rumble.
“Who?” Viktor spins around to look. When he sees Cora in her long slinky dress with her arm through the biker’s, his face sours noticeably.
Finn told me Viktor and Cora used to date. I can’t imagine any of Finn’s friends actually having legit feelings for a girl. Especially not a girl like Cora. They all seem more like the type to mark their territory and get mad when anyone infringes on it.
But then again, I couldn’t imagine Finn having feelings for a girl either. And I wouldn’t say he has “feelings” for me, exactly.
There’s something there though. Between us.
Something more than just sex.
More than just possessiveness.
“Hi, everyone,” Cora says as she passes, slowing down to be sure everyone has a chance to see her. “Melody, you look amazing.”
Viktor’s cheerleader date beams under Cora’s appreciation, oblivious that Cora is only complimenting her to get under Viktor’s skin. If she is nice to his date, she couldn’t possibly care about him at all, right?
Cora pans over to me, her glittering green gaze taking me in from head to toe, and pointedly says nothing.
With a flip of her curled red hair, she turns and trots her sullen date out to the dance floor.
“Dancing is a good idea,” Viktor says, grabbing Melody. “Let’s go.”
Caleb and Noah also slip away towards the punch bowl, leaving me and Finn alone.
“Your friends are nice.”
It’s not true, really—they’re cocky assholes, albeit funny ones—but I don’t know what else to say. After everything he and I have been through, standing on the sidelines of a school dance feels like unfamiliar territory.
We aren’t a normal high school couple by any means, so how are we supposed to act in a normal high school setting? Fuck if I know.
Finn snorts. “My friends are idiots.”
“Noah seems normal.”
“’Seems,’” Finn says. “That’s the operative word. There’s more to Noah than meets the eye. He’s sad.”
“Sad about what?” I ask, turning to look up at him.
For the first time all night, Finn meets my eyes. And just like that, I’m putty again.
Just when I’d started getting myself under control.
Just when I’d become distracted enough to try and make it through the night, one look from Finn is enough to undo all of it.
“What are any of us sad about?” he asks quietly, leaning in so close I could span the distance between us in half a heartbeat. That’s all it would take to kiss him again.
Before I can, Finn turns towards the dance floor, his eyes unfocused. “Love.”
There isn’t time to unpack his strange response because just then my mom walks up to us, a digital camera in her hand and a smile on her face.
She has on a floor-length navy-blue dress that used to fit well, but now drapes on her thinner frame. Silver beads are sewn into the bodice and the arms, and she looks like a picture.
“Look at you two,” she says, holding out her arms for a hug.
I step into them. “No, you,” I insist. “You look beautiful.”
She blushes and waves away the compliment. “I couldn’t come to a dance in my uniform. It would ruin the picture.”
“You could never ruin any picture,” Finn says, stepping behind me and wrapping his arm around my waist. He does it smoothly, as though it isn’t the first time we’ve touched in hours. As though he hasn’t been making it a point to keep a distance between us all evening.
Still, I can’t even find it within myself to be upset. I just lean into him, grateful for each second I have to be in his arms.
“You charmer,” she says with a wink. “But speaking of pictures, I need one of you two.”
“Mom.” I start to argue, but Finn jumps into action, pulling me back towards the fabric-draped wall. He wraps his arms around me from behind and grins at my mom.
I’m so stunned by the sight of his smile that it actually knocks the air out of me. I only turn towards the camera because my mom clears her throat at the same time Finn nudges me in the side.
“Adorable,” my mom says, clapping as she tucks her camera away in her purse. “Now, you two have fun. I won’t bother you the rest of the night.” She gives me a kiss on the cheek and scurries away.
When she’s gone, I turn on Finn, eyes narrowed. “What was that?”
“What?” he asks, straightening his suit jacket.
“That,” I say, gesturing to his whole person. “The smiling and the hugging and the flattery. Where did that come from? That isn’t like you.”
“But it is.”
“No,” I insist. “It isn’t. Believe me, I know.”
Then, Finn is in my airspace. His face is just in front of mine, the soft light of the dance doing nothing to soften the hard edges of his cheekbones.
“I’m that guy with your mom, so I can be this guy,” he says, grabbing my waist and pulling me against him, our bodies flush, “with you.”
My heart is pounding in my chest and something else is pounding between my legs. I grab the front of his suit jacket and tug him towards me.
“Be that guy with me now,” I beg. “Please.”
He smiles, but it is nothing like the grin he gave to the camera. This one creeps slowly across his face, twisting his handsom
e features into something dark and dangerous. This smile is panty-melting and soul-crushing and destroying me in too many ways to count.
I’d be willing to jump on the table and spread my legs here and now if he said the word.
“Later,” he whispers, reaching out to run his thumb over my lower lip. “What I have planned for you can’t be done in a bathroom stall.”
“We don’t know that until we try,” I counter, reaching up for his jawline.
He chuckles and shoves my fingers away, his dark eyebrow arched. “Soon, Lily. It’ll all happen soon.”
36
Finn
Lily has been killing me all night.
When she straddled me in my room before the dance, her bare skin burning against mine, her hips rolling the length of me—God. We barely made it to the dance. It took every ounce of restraint I had not to flip her over and ruin the hair and makeup she’d just spent an hour on.
I should have.
I should have ravaged her and then forced her to walk into the dance with sex hair and smeared lipstick. That would have accomplished my goal.
Humiliation.
But I didn’t. I put it off. Didn’t do what I should’ve done.
Which begs the question… why?
There have been rumors for weeks that Lily is a fuck buddy of mine, and I don’t know what she is, but I wanted to show people that they don’t know a damn thing about her or me … us.
So, I kept my hands off. I put on a nice suit, escorted her into the dance, and then kept my hands to myself.
Let those fuckers parse that one out.
Still, it seems like a bad decision when a small crew rolls back to my house for an afterparty. We’ve been drinking aggressively all night long, so everyone is getting rowdy.
“The party has arrived!” I look up just as Cora and her Hell Prince walk in. She has a bottle of vodka in one hand and a soda in the other.
“It’s Bring Your Own Alcohol,” Viktor mumbles, rolling his eyes. “The party has been here all along.”
“I think she meant her presence was the party,” Lily says, looking equally unconvinced.
“My presence is the party.” Cora rounds the couch, eyes narrowed on Lily. “Do you have something to say about it?”
