Liar

“That girl is fucking wild,” Jackson commented, watching Olivia flit from boy to boy on the dance floor. Even that pencil-dick, Aaron, managed to grab her attention.

When she finally extracted herself from her fan club to head to the bathroom, I’d had enough alcohol to let my reckless side free, and I followed her.

By the grace of some divine interference, the hallway was empty when she came out, and I snagged her wrist, tugging her down to the corner.

“Kent. What the hell?”

Swinging her back to the wall, I rested my hand on the side of her head to corner her. “Having fun?”

Her blue eyes blazed, and her pouty lips puckered, glaring at my overhanded attitude. Olivia liked it the other night when I took control, but she didn’t do submissive through the day, and I knew I was pressing my luck with her, just begging her to knee me in the balls.

“Yup.” She snapped the p, and I felt it like a lash of the whip.

Holding my stare, she snagged the bottle I brought back with me and lifted it to her lips, taking her own long drink. A little dribbled out the corner of her mouth, and it took everything I had not to tip the bottle over her body and lick every inch, getting drunk off her skin.

“You’re a fucking tease.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” All innocence. All a masquerade to torture me.

Gripping her wrist, I shoved her hand against my hard dick. “Yes, you do.”

Her back arched, pressing her chest into mine, pinning her hand between our bodies where she began to stroke me. “Then do something about it.”

I dropped the bottle, not caring if everything shattered, and pressed my hand between her warm, firm thighs, dragging my fingers agonizingly slowly up to her heat. Her nipples pebbled under her silk top, and I was leaning down to suck them—bite them. When the bathroom door creaked open, and I jerked back.

Thankfully, it was a swaying teeny-bopper and not Daniel or Jackson.

“Come dance, birthday girl,” the drunk friend practically squealed. “Then we’re doing body shots. Bring the old man with you. He’s hot.”

I somehow managed to hold back my cringe at her old man comment. Olivia ignored it completely, pulling my chin to face her.

“Take me home, Kent,” she almost begged. “Fuck me.”

“Fuck,” I breathed. Using all the restraint I’d stored up over the years when I never said no, I muttered, “I can’t.”

Disappointment dragged her face down from the hopeful smile. Her eyes dimmed as though a candle being suffocated until it went out. But just as quickly, she pulled her shoulders back, shrugged, and stepped out from where I pinned her. “Have fun with Paige.”

Then she turned and walked away, leaving me with regret and no more bourbon since the bottle tipped over when it hit the ground.

“Only top-shelf liquors touch this skin,” she shouted to her friend as she rounded the corner.

There was no way in hell I’d be able to stand by and watch Olivia let some drunk asshole drink liquor from her body. I’d fucking murder someone.

Or I’d end up dragging her out and fucking her in the car.

Best friend or not, I’d lay my claim.

12 Olivia

Olivia: Question: Do you think this mirror is a good selfie height?

I sent the picture I took of myself in the lobby of the hotel. It was a wimpy excuse to message him, but I liked that I could send him a picture and talk to him. He’d been gone all week, and I couldn’t help but feel the loss.

Since we had sex, the desire that had always been simmering under the surface started to boil over. All that talk of not pushing him became just that: talk. I was constantly thinking of ways to lure him to me. Any time I pretended I wasn’t craving him, I knew I was just a liar.

Kent: What?

Kent: How did you get my number?

Olivia: Vivian gave it to me.

Olivia: And selfies are huge, Kent. Get with the program.

Kent: …

Olivia: People will take pics of themselves in your hotel and post them to social media. But only if you have good mirrors to take pics in.

Olivia: Like this one…

I hopped out of bed and stood in front of my full-length mirror. As soon as I got home from classes, I’d stripped down to just a T-shirt and panties. I flicked on the lamp by the mirror to make sure he had enough lighting to see my nipples through the thin white material. I turned slightly and cocked my butt out so he could see the bottom curve of my ass peeking from the hem.

Looking it over, I thanked my generation for making me so damn good at selfies and hit send.

Kent: OLIVIA.

Kent: Your uncle is right next to me.

My head fell back on a laugh as I imagined Kent getting the picture and fumbling with his phone to hide it. Then I imagined him tipping it enough to keep it hidden, but so he could still stare at my body. I imagined him at a meeting, getting hard as he remembered everything under my shirt.