Huge House Hates

“Sex and roses, the new fragrance by Dior,” I laugh.

“Shit, they’d make a fortune.”

I roll in his arms and grin at his bleary half-closed eyes and rumpled hair. “No one’s making a fortune out of sex and roses, babe. But you could definitely make more money selling access to this body than you would do calculating all those numbers.”

Mark grins at the compliment and kisses the tip of my nose. “Honey, access to this body is yours and yours alone.”

“I’ve got to get up,” I groan, glancing around to find where I dropped my phone. It’s half hanging off Mark’s impeccably tidy desk. It’s the one thing in the room that hasn’t been placed with care.

Mark rolls on top of me, taking me by surprise with a strong hand gripping my wrists. His cock slides between my labia, rubbing against my clit, and I make a squeaking sound that causes him to smile. “I’m already up, baby,” he whispers.

“Don’t do this to me,” I say with a long groan. “If we do this, your brothers will hear, and then they’re going to want to join in, and even if it’s a quickie, it’s still going to take over an hour and make us all late.”

“They don’t have to know,” he whispers, the tip of his cock notching at my slick entrance. He doesn’t go any further. He just rests there with an intent that is overwhelmingly hot.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re too much of a bad boy to be an accountant?”

“Numbers can be sexy. For example, I could make you count the flicks of my tongue on your clit before I make you come. Or the number of sucks on your nipple that it would take to make you beg for more.”

“That doesn’t sound sexy.” I scowl, shifting my hips and groaning as he slides in just half an inch. “That just sounds cruel.”

“Sometimes cruelty can be sexy,” he smiles, but in truth, I can’t believe that Mark could ever be cruel. Even though he was involved in the initial pranks, he never seemed truly comfortable with what was happening.

Just as he begins to kiss my neck, my phone begins to ring. The annoyed groan he makes has me in a fit of giggles, and as he rolls off me, he rubs his hands over his face. As I scramble out of bed, I take an appreciative glance at the very hard cock that is currently going to waste. I’m an idiot for worrying about work when I could be feasting on that.

The phone vibrates in my hand as I blink at the screen.

It’s Mom. What’s she doing calling me at this time?

“Mom, is everything okay?” I ask. Mark stiffens, rising on his elbows and covering his lower half with the sheet as though my mom has X-ray vision that can see through the phone.

“I don’t know, Cora. Is everything alright?” The words that make up her question are polite enough, but the tone she’s delivering them in is far from civil.

She sounds pissed.

Really pissed.

As my heart picks up speed in my chest, I reply in my most innocent voice. “Everything’s great, Mom. The exhibition was awesome, and I made so many sales and great contacts. I’m heading over there right now to sort everything out, and then I’m going to be working my fingers to the bone trying to get everything ready.”

She makes a derisive snorting sound, which makes me pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it in confusion. Mark raises his eyebrows, but all I can do is shrug in response.

“You don’t sound happy, Mom. Is something going on?”

“I don’t know, Cora. You tell me. Is there something going on?”

For a few seconds, I wonder what the fuck she’s talking about, and then she blows out a frustrated breath. “The pictures from the show last night, that Cathy put up on Instagram, show a whole lot that I’m hoping is just camera angles. Like the one where Alden seems to be kissing you on the forehead. Or the one where you’re between Tobias and River, and it looks as though Tobias is kissing your neck. Or maybe the one where Danny has his arm around you, and his lips are pressed to your temple. Or the one where Mark is actually kissing you on the lips.”

My heart has stopped.

Like, actually stopped beating.

My body is rigid as Mark slides off the bed, reaching for his gray shorts and tugging them over his legs. I have to turn away because his nakedness and my Mom’s words don’t blend well at all. It’s as though he’s the personification of my guilt.

And I don’t know what to say because Mom is angry, and I haven’t seen the photos to know what they’re really showing. I could deny it, but I can’t lie if I’m not sure of the evidence to the contrary.