…Includingwhen Kenzie had shown up.
So, yeah, the whole thing would’ve been bad enough if it was just me that she was fucking with, and flashing her tight little body to while wearing next to nothing all the fucking time. But it wasLincolntoo.
And like I said, the little cock-tease knewexactlywhat she was doing, to both of us. She was pushing her fucking luck because sheknewI was hesitant to act because of how hard she made me. And she knew it was the same damn thing with Lincoln. Staying out late, missing curfew, fucking off on all the summer workload she had before she went off to college in the fall — she’d gotten away withmurderthe last month.
But the buck was going tostopthat night.
No more of me being a pussy pushover, and no more of her getting away with it. The little brat had pushed metoo far.And that night, I was going to take matters into my own hands.
There was the rattle of keys in the front door, and I glanced at Lincoln across the kitchen island, seeing the hard, heated look on his face, which mirrored mine.
“Easy, Wild,” he growled, his jaw tight.
I shook my head, hearing the front door kick open.
“No.” I tensed, my muscles bunching, my hands clenching to fists, and my cock throbbing rock fucking hard between my thighs.
“No more easy with her. Tonight, we’re doing it thehardway.”
2
Mackenzie
IknewI was in trouble the second I got home.
Good.
My pulse hummed in my ears, my skin prickling with the unknown of whatmighthappen there that night. My core tightened as I jammed the key in the lock, ignoring Justin’s honk in the long driveway behind me and the squeal of his tires as he drove off frustrated, pouting like the little boy he was, and probably nursing a serious case of blue balls.
Also good.
I wasn’t going to put out for a whiny jerk like Justin Carson. I neverwasgoing to, even if I’d let him take me out that night. But going out with the rude, douchey quarterback from the local college that night hadn’t been because Iwantedto go out with him, it’d been because I’d pretty much exhausted every single other idea I’d had.
…It was because I’d already doneeverything elseto try and push the man — or, really, if I was even ready to admit to myself yet, themen— I’d been lusting over for over a month into doing something.
Anything.
I’d never been like that before he’d opened the front door that day a month before. I’d neverlustedover a guy before. Actually, I’d barely ever been interested in any guys before. Because guys my age weredicks. Or nervous, stammering wimps. Or petulant, immature, handsy, clumsy assholes.
Or all of the above, mostly.
I knew there’d been times when Icouldhave just “gotten it over with.” I’d considered it — just going to one of the asshole jocks in school, or even one of the fumbling awkward guys and just getting it out of the way so it wouldn’t be hanging over me like this big neon “virgin” sign. But I never did. I’d made out with two guys — horrible experiences both of them. One of them had tried to get a hand up my skirt, but that’d stoppedprettyquickly once I’d decked him in the face.
I’d spent most of high school fending for myself anyways — finding my own food, and clothes, and money any way I could, since Dad and Stephanie were basically MIA most of the time. I hadn’t had time to get all goo-goo over boys like other girls might’ve, because I was too busy making a counterfeit cafeteria card to get a second lunch to sneak home for dinner, or too busy stealing tampons from the drug store. Or, somehow, studying and working my ass off so that I could actually getinto the college that Nana had apparently set up a trust for me to attend.
But, all that had changed when my father and Stephanie decided to up the ante and go full Bonny and Clyde. I’d just graduated, and I wasjustabout to turn eighteen when CPS had showed up with the cops and taken me away. I wasn’t sad to leave — I’d already done that part, over and over and over again, over the years of my dad basically pretending I didn’t exist.
The CPS lady had told me to pack a bag, and then we’d jumped in a car and driven eight hours straight, to here. Stephanie had a brother, apparently, and he was apparentlyrich. The CPS lady hadn’t said much, aside from that he’d been in the military and that he’d owned some sort of company that worked with the Government.
Wilder Banks.
I’d rolled my eyes — he soundedsoboring, and I imagined some weird, nerdy-looking accountant type shut away in some big house like a weirdo. And the place we’d finally pulled up to eight hours later hadn’t helped my impression very much. I mean, it wasbeautiful— this castle-like stone mansion surrounded by gardens and a forest. But still, all I imagined was the weirdo cooped up inside I was about to live with until college started.
…And thenhe’dopened the front door, andeverythingchanged. Wilder Banks wasn’t some nerdy, pasty, agoraphobic weirdo. Wilder Banks was a fuckinghunk.
He wasgorgeous— like, movie-star gorgeous, with dark eyes, dark hair with just a hint of silver at the temples, and a chiseled jaw covered in dark scruff. His crisp white button-up shirt was open at the neck and rolled up over his forearms, pulledtightacross bulging, rippling, tanned muscles and gorgeous swirls and lines of tattoo ink.
And he washuge. I mean, I was pretty tall for my age, and for being a girl, but Wildertoweredover me — his broad shoulders stretching that shirt tight. His eyes had trailed over me, his jaw had clenched, and his hand had tightened fast on the doorknob. And somethingfiercehad flashed behind those dark eyes. Somethinghungry.