“I swear I’m not just drawing your house for fun,” she said quickly, as if that would be so awful. “It’s for work. I need to present a project to my boss at my six-month review and your house has a lot of…” Her lips pursed as she pondered. The way her face scrunched up made me feel…hell, it made me feelsomething. Like an aggressive need to squish her cheeks. “It has a lot of potential. Great character.”
“Why are you drawing a house for work?” I said, wincing when my voice came out far gruffer than I intended. She was dressedin a big t-shirt and leggings, her smeared mascara washed away. She had so many freckles on her cheeks that I hadn’t noticed before, and her eyelashes were almost as light as her hair.
“I work in architectural design,” she said. “I’ve been interning with this big company in New York City. If I prove myself, the boss says she’ll take me on full time. Then I’m out of Wickeston for good.” She smiled, draping her towel across the back of one of the kitchen chairs before she headed for the fridge. “We have wine if you guys want some. Mom doesn’t keep beer in the house though.”
Damn, we really had fucked the sarcasm out of her. Was this all she needed? A hard fight followed by a harder fuck and suddenly she was looking a lot more worthy of Manson’s little pet name for her. Manson, of course, jerked his head toward the kitchen to get me to follow her. I swallowed down my groan, but went along. Hell, if I was here, I could at least try.
Besides, maybe he was right about the drop. The more time went on, the more I felt it — a tightness in my chest that quivered like anxiety but swayed with exhaustion, raw and uncertain. I wanted to settle down somewhere quiet and chill.
Jess was in the pantry, stretching up on her tiptoes as she tried to reach a box of Girl Scout cookies on the top shelf. Her shirt was hitched up enough to give me a damn fine view of her ass wrapped in those skintight leggings, and I paused for a moment to admire her.
I thought I’d come the second I sunk into her. Years of fantasizing about her had nearly culminated in one goddamn thrust. Having her suck my cock all those years ago had nothing on being inside her, hearing her, watching her fall apart. It was the hate-fuck I’d needed for years, even better than my fantasies. No wonder Manson was so hopelessly fucked for her.
As much as I thought she was spoiled, prideful, selfish…I was fucked too. We all were, really; it just manifested in differentways.
I reached over her head, easily plucking the cookies off the shelf and handing them to her. She hurriedly dug into the box, popping one into her mouth and groaning as if it was orgasmic.
“God, these are my favorite,” she said, sighing contentedly before she held out the box. “Want one?”
“Thin Mints? Fuck yes.” I didn’t want just one; I took a whole sleeve for myself before she went back to browsing for snacks. One of Vincent’s sisters used to be a Girl Scout, and every time they had a sale, we’d stock up with as many cookies as we could afford. Frozen Thin Mints and coffee were basically my breakfast of champions for a while.
I stuffed two cookies into my mouth right as Jess turned back around. She giggled when I coughed, the mouthful not going down quite as quickly or easily as I’d hoped. She held out the box again, saying, “Here, you and Manson can have at it. I shouldn’t have anymore.”
“Shouldn’t?” I stared back at her incredulously. She’d hadonecookie. “Says who?” She shrugged, muttering something about sugar and carbs, but I shoved the box back against her chest. “Girl, we broke into your house, shoved ice up your ass, and fucked you over your mother’s kitchen table. Eat some goddamn cookies.”
“Ugh, fine,” she groaned, but her tone was teasing as she snatched the cookies back.
Teasing or not, I still lunged for her, forcing her back until she was pressed against the crowded shelves.
“Are you forgetting the rules?” I said softly. Her eyes were wide in the dim light as she looked up at me, her chest swelling as she drew in her breath. She laid her hand against my chest, curiously tracing the gap where my denim vest left my skin bare.
Her touch left goosebumps on my skin.
“I did forget, sir,” she said, just above a whisper. She leaned alittle closer. “I’m sorry. I should’ve said fine,sir.”
The way she smiled at me was both wicked and sweet, challenging me as she placated me. Most people would never dare. Most would be running scared.
Not her. Why the hell wasn’t she scared of me?
Better yet, why didn’t I want her to be?
I sighed, straightening up and stepping back. “Watch yourself, fucktoy. Manson will get really pissed if I spank you right now.”
“Mm, well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” The tone of her voice said she absolutely fucking would, the little brat. She slipped out of the pantry, snatching a box of crackers as she went, and I turned my attention to the bottles of wine on her counter. I eventually chose something dark with an interesting label — I wasn’t a wine guy, but Manson liked reds.
“Glasses are in the cabinet to your right,” she said. I didn’t know why she was watching me fumble around with this when she could have been comfortably cuddling with Manson on the couch. I grabbed a couple coffee mugs since they were the first things I saw in the cabinet, filling them to the brim and taking a heavy sip of mine.
As I lowered the mug, Jess looked like she was holding back laughter.
“What?” I snapped without meaning to, but it didn’t faze her.
“You’re not used to this, are you?” she said, and my pride bristled.
“I’ve had sex before, Jess,” I said. “Plenty of times.”
“I don’t mean sex.” She laughed. “I meanthis. Like, being with someone.”
Oh. Right. I guess it was that obvious. I didn’t belong here, in this nice house, surrounded by photos of Jessica’s family and her mom’sLive Laugh Lovedecor.