Bad Habit (Bad Love 1)

“He won’t, but I will. Don’t fucking test me, pretty boy. I have nothing to lose with these kinds of people.”

“Because you’re not one of us. You can put on a suit and tie, but you’re still trash.”

I feel a delicate hand rub my thigh, and though I know her attempt is to calm me down, she’s doing the opposite. She’s making my dick hard, and all I want is to fuck her, right here and now, to prove that she belongs to me. Only me.

“At least he’s not a snobby, elitist douchebag with a tiny dick,” Briar shoots back, shocking all of us. Dash spits out his drink, and Jackson is completely speechless, eyes as wide as saucers and face burning with what I assume is a mix of anger and embarrassment. I’d laugh if she hadn’t confirmed—for the second time tonight—that she fucked him. The thought of him touching her, of being inside her, I can’t fucking handle it. I know I’m no good for her, but he doesn’t deserve her, either. Not by a long shot.

I clutch her wrist and bring it back to her lap before curling my hand around her thigh in a squeezing grip. I feel her stiffen, but I don’t look at her.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that,” Dash says, shaking the liquor off his hand. I glance at Briar to find her cheeks bright red—either from embarrassment at her outburst. Or maybe the fact that my hand is making its way underneath her dress with her brother on one side of us and her wannabe boyfriend on the other has something to do with it. I trail my calloused fingers up her silky-soft thighs, and she presses them together. I hook my leg under hers, thankful for the floor-length tablecloths, and pull, forcing her legs to widen. Briar makes a small sound of surprise, but no one else hears it.

I wonder if she’s still wet from earlier. It took every ounce of my self-control not to unzip myself and thrust inside her when she was straddling my lap, riding my fingers. I wasn’t going to come tonight, but the more I thought about her being alone with Jackson, the more I knew I couldn’t stay away.

I went into Dash’s room and questioned where he was going. I played dumb, making him think it was his idea to invite me.

“What are you up to tonight?” he’d asked. “My mom is forcing me to go to this fundraiser to keep up appearances.”

“You want me to go with you?”

He paused in the middle of adjusting his tie, thrown off by my offer. “You’d go? I’ve never gotten you to agree to this kind of shit before.”

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance, and feeling like a dick for it. “Will there be free booze?”

He smiled and handed me one of his suits that was a little tighter than I’d have liked, but it would do. And here we are.

Dash gets up and announces that he’s getting another drink, and I take the opportunity to slip my finger inside her panties. Fuck, those underwear. All strappy black and lacy framing her perfect little bubble butt. I take a sip of the water in front of me with my right hand while sliding my fingers through her slick heat with the other hand. She’s wet, so wet, and smooth. Someone takes the stage and begins their speech, but all I can focus on is the way Briar clenches around my fingers when I shove them inside her pussy, the way her breathing becomes ragged, her eyelids growing heavier, her tits heaving, and nipples hardening against the thin fabric of her dress. Fuck this.

I lean in close and whisper, “Go to the third floor. Wait for me by the elevator. Now.”

She nods her head yes rapidly, and the fact that she doesn’t even hesitate sates my inner beast. “Okay,” she whispers back, and she lets a quiet moan out when I slide my fingers from her pussy. Jackson looks over, a combination of shock and jealousy written all over his face, and I’m one thousand percent sure he knows what’s going on under this table. I raise a brow that says can I help you?

Briar rights her dress under the table before getting up onto shaky legs, making her way to the elevator. I give it a good five minutes, daring Jackson to say a fucking word, while also keeping an eye on Dash. A pretty little thing at the bar has distracted him, so I doubt he’ll be back any time soon. I’m a piece of shit for this—for being so sneaky with my best friend’s little sister—but I’ve fought acting on my feelings since she was fourteen years old. This thing between Briar and me is like a runaway train. It can’t be stopped, and it’ll take us both straight to hell.

“Enjoy your night,” I say to Jackson, sucking the taste of Briar off my finger before wiping my hands with the linen napkin. I ball it up, drop it on his plate, and walk away. Heading into the elevator, I stab at the number three with my finger, having zero patience left. I need to be inside her. Now. The doors ping and then open. She’s waiting, biting back a nervous smile, hands twisting behind her back.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.”

Eating up the distance between us, I take her face in my hands, kissing her hard. She moans into my mouth, her tongue sliding against mine. Both of us are too far gone to care about getting caught now. We’ve been teasing each other all night, and it’s coming to a head right here and now. Her hands grip my suit jacket as I swallow her cries of pleasure. This kiss is frantic and messy and desperate. I pull back, both of us panting.

“You let him fuck you?”

“Ash—”

“Tell. Me.”

She nods reluctantly.

“When.” It’s not a question. It’s a demand. I need to know if she fucked him after this thing between us started.

“Months ago. Before you came back.”

“Why?” Why him?

“Why?” She gives a bitter laugh. “Because you left me. Because Whitley came in bragging about hooking up with you. Because he was there and I was mad. That’s why. Was I supposed to keep waiting for you?”

“No.” Fuck. “But it doesn’t mean I’m not going to be pissed about it,” I say petulantly. Something she said isn’t adding up. “I thought you said this just happened a few months ago.”