Bad Influence (Bad Love 3)
“I could slip inside you so easily right now,” he says, the thick head of his cock nudging against my entrance, teasing.
I can’t form a response. All I know is that I want more of this. I’m so close.
“Lift your shirt and show me those perfect fucking tits,” he orders. I feel myself clench at his words, and the smug look in his eyes tells me he feels it. His blunt words usually embarrass me, but when we’re like this, nothing turns me on more. Resting my weight on one elbow, my hand makes its slow descent. My fingertips curl around the bottom of my shirt before I peel it up, exposing my chest, the cool air hitting my almost painfully hard nipples.
“Hottest th
ing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Jesse says, his voice strained. I feel myself pulse against him, wondering what would happen if I tilted my hips and took him inside me. Jesse’s movements grow rougher, and I hold my breath as I feel the sensation building.
“I think I’m close,” I confess, my body tensing with the impending orgasm. Jesse leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth, and that’s all it takes to send me over the edge. I cry out, my legs shaking as my arms give out. I’m flat against the counter as Jesse holds my spent legs, his length rubbing against my sensitive clit as I jerk with aftershocks. He gives one final hard pump of his hips, and then he curses as warm liquid spills onto me.
Gathering me in his arms, he lifts my boneless body. Mustering up every ounce of my strength, I wrap my limp legs around his waist. He lowers me to the soft rug before slumping into me, his sweaty cheek resting against my chest, and I know my heart must be pounding in his ear. Neither one of us speaks as our breathing evens out. I’m too afraid to break the spell, to go back to pretending not to like him. I think the jig is up.
Jesse peels himself off me, reaching behind his neck to tug his shirt over his head before bringing it between my legs. The move is thoughtful. Unexpected. My brows tug together as I watch him, once again, trying to figure him out.
“Allie—” he starts, but someone knocks on the door. My wide eyes fly to Jesse’s, full of panic, but he looks cool as a fucking cucumber.
“No one can know,” I blurt out. When this thing with Jesse ends, and it will, I don’t want to look like a fool.
Jesse’s expression goes blank, his eyes flat. “Give me a minute,” he barks at whoever’s on the outside of the door.
“What the fuck, Shep? Have you been taking a shit this entire time?”
Sully? Oh my God. That’s who Sierra was talking about? I narrow my eyes, ready to shove him off me, but he must anticipate my reaction, because he straddles my waist, pinning my wrists to the floor. “Halston knows.”
What? I highly doubt that’s true.
Another knock.
“I said give me a fucking minute!”
“Pinch it off already!”
Jesse shakes his head, annoyed. Once we hear Sullivan’s retreating footsteps, Jesse hurries to explain.
“They have an understanding.”
“There is no way Halston would be okay with this.”
“It was her idea,” he says, lifting a single brow. “I’m going to go get rid of these assholes. Give it two minutes, then you can leave.”
I nod wordlessly, feeling ridiculous and awkward as I lie here exposed. Jesse obviously doesn’t have the same hang-up. He stands, gloriously naked, still half-hard, without a care in the world. He bends over to pull his shorts on, letting them hang loosely off his hips, showcasing that ridiculously cut Adonis belt. I sit up, tugging my shirt down over my knees as I scan the floor for my underwear in an attempt to look anywhere but at him.
“Two minutes,” Jesse reminds me with his hand on the doorknob. I nod again, tucking a wayward piece of hair behind my ear.
Once he’s gone, I do as I’m told, waiting a couple of minutes before I make my escape. I peek out into the hall, and when I don’t see or hear anything, I tiptoe back upstairs. The clock on my phone reads 2:17 A.M. I contemplate calling Halston, but I decide to wait until morning. No need to ruin her night if what he says isn’t true.
“Two minutes” soon turns into twenty. I can hear them partying down there like nothing happened. Then thirty minutes passes, then forty-five, and finally, somewhere around the hour mark, I accept the fact that Jesse’s not coming. I tell myself it’s a good thing. This thing between us isn’t serious, and I’d do well to remember that. I hear a loud squeal followed by a splash, and I pull a pillow over my head to block out the sound. How the hell do Lo and Dare sleep through this shit? I flip my blankets off and stand to flip the lock on the door before climbing back into bed. There’s no way I’d be able to sleep with it unlocked knowing those assholes are downstairs.
My body is tired and sated, but my mind is going a mile a minute. I reach for my headphones, hitting shuffle to drown out all thoughts of Jesse. I huff out a laugh when Something Corporate comes on, singing about a girl who’s feeling empty and worthless after another meaningless hookup, the irony not lost on me. I hit the skip button. Much better. Stuffing my CD player under my pillow, I close my heavy eyelids and drift to sleep.
* * *
DEALING WITH DRUNK COLLEGE GIRLS is like trying to herd cats. They’re impulsive, knock shit over while deadass looking you in the eye without a single fuck given, then they rub up against you when they want attention.
Sully talked me into having another drink while he bitched about Halston, which led to two, which then led to smoking a blunt, all while the girls proceeded to get progressively drunker, which brings us to now. Sully and I are standing over near the fence smoking a cigarette while Sierra makes out with the brunette—Jessica, maybe—in the hot tub. Even as I watch their tongues tangle together, their tits pressed against each other, I feel nothing more than annoyance at the fact that they’re still here, keeping me from Allie.
Fuck. Allie. Almost fucking her was the best sex I’ve never had. I don’t know what it is about her. Going back and forth with her feels like foreplay and after last night, I knew I’d end up going back for more. Nothing could have prepared me for how good she felt. After experiencing Allie, this shit in front of me? It feels fake as fuck. Fake moans, fake laughter, fake feelings. Fake, fake, fake.