Tryst Six Venom

“YOU HAVE TO stop,” I pant as she sucks on my neck. “I want to be crazy for you tonight.”

I want to be starving for her.

But she slides her hands up my skirt as I straddle her in the desk, her fingers digging into my ass. “I can’t help it. Those pictures drove me insane.”

I dive into her lips again, unable to fathom wanting to ever be anywhere else.

The abandoned woodshop classroom at the end of the second floor sits far away from any remaining students in the school. Most have gone home for the day, but athletics is still going on and I’m late to meet my friends, but I don’t care.

The desktop cuts into my back, but I thread my hand through her hair, gripping it at the base of her skull, and pull her head back. I stare down at her, keeping my eyes open as I come in for kiss after kiss after kiss. She’s so soft. I grind back and forth, loving the feel of her slender body between my legs.

“It’s just fucking, right?” I whisper.

She gazes up at me as I roll my hips, her hands pulling me in harder but nice and slow. “I just wish time would stop,” she tells me.

I kiss her mouth. Her face. Her cheekbone. Her mouth again.

Four hours . I’ll see her in four hours.

The final bell rings, signaling the end of the teachers’ work day, and I growl, knowing we have to go.

“I have to get to the theater,” she says, but makes no move to stop caressing me through my underwear.

I kiss her one last time. “And I have to meet Amy and Krisjen.” I whimper, breaking into a sweat as I climb off her. “I’ll see you at eight, okay?”

She rises, we kiss, grab our bags, and head for the door, stopping periodically to paw each other, giggle, and kiss some more.

“Do you have it?” she asks.

I smile, knowing what’s on her mind. Digging in my bag, I pull out the toy—a long, black, vibrating, strapless gadget that filled me with equal parts dread and excitement when I took it out of the package.

“Whoa.” She pushes my hand down, trying to hide it from the window in the door. “You brought it to school?”

I press the button, the vibrations humming through our hands.

“Is it okay?” I ask, looking at her hesitantly. “It looked like something we both could, you know…” Get off on. “And the reviews were good.”

We can both use it at the same time, the ends positioned perpendicular from each other, so one end goes inside her, and the other inside me as I straddle her. There’s a ribbed section that presses into her clit, so hopefully we can both come.

But she stares at it, not answering, and I tense a little.

Maybe this is too much. Or wrong, I don’t know. I want to lose my virginity to her. This is all I could think of.

I lick my lips and stuff it back into the bag. “I guess I should’ve just let you pick it out.” I laugh nervously, shaking my head. “I’m not sure what you’ve used before, so I don’t know. Maybe—”

“It’ll be amazing,” she says, taking me by the back of my neck and kissing me softly. “Bring it tonight.”

I kiss her back, murmuring, “Okay.”

My pulse races, and I’m not sure if it’s her or because I’m nervous, but these toys are a thing, so there must be something to them. I guess we’ll see.

I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her in while I cover her breast with my hand.

She moans, and I smother it with my mouth. “Shhh…” I laugh.

It takes another twenty seconds, but I pull away from her and shove her toward the door. “Ugh, okay, we gotta go.” I kiss her again. “Go, go. Please.”

She rights her clothes and opens the door. “Bye.”

I follow her and pull her back, kissing her one last time. “Bye,” I whisper.

She jogs down the hall, looking back once to flash me a smile, and I watch her disappear down the stairs.

I let the door close, and then I twist my skirt right again and tighten my ponytail.

“I was looking for you.”

I jump. What? I follow the voice and see Amy step out from the other side of the lockers across the hall. My chest caves.

How long has she been there?

I swallow a couple of times, blink, and tamp down my rapid breathing. “Yeah, I know, I’m late.”

I walk down the hall, hearing her footsteps fall in behind me.

“What are you doing, Clay?”

“Leaving.”

I close my eyes, dread twisting my gut. That damn app . I completely forgot we all downloaded it years ago to locate each other. I’ve never used it to find my friends, so it didn’t occur to me that they would.

She grabs my arm and swings me around. “What the hell is going on?” she barks.

It takes a moment, but I recover. “Um…lots.” I step over to my locker and dial in the combo. “The House passed a cyber-safety bill this morning, although it will probably die in the Senate. The president ordered airstrikes in Syria. There’s a storm advisory for this weekend, and I scuffed my vintage saddle shoes at lunch.”

I pull out my handbag, empty my satchel, and refill it with what I need for homework.

“Clay, I’m your best friend.” She steps to my side. “Or one of them anyway. What the hell were you two doing in there?”

The shade was down on the door. Could she have opened it and peeked inside without us hearing?

But I guess she wouldn’t have needed to. We kissed right outside the door like idiots.

“We were knitting sweaters,” I mock.

“Bullshit.” Her voice sounds like she’s spitting out a bug. “God, Clay. Seriously? I’ve been naked in front of you! Slept in your bed. Are you serious?”

I slam the locker door and keep walking. She follows.

“I’ll tell your parents,” she says behind me. “I’ll have to.”

I stop. Excuse me? I turn, glaring at her so hard my eyes feel like they’re on fire.

“I don’t give a shit about what those ‘woke’ assholes try to tell us,” she spits out. “There’s something mentally wrong with people like Olivia Jaeger.”

I reach out, grab her by the collar, and haul her ass into an empty classroom. She stumbles, and I let go, yanking the door closed behind me.

“It’s not natural, Clay,” she argues. “Just stop. Right now. I’m not letting you throw your whole life away.”

I advance on her, and she backs up.

“Clay, you’re not gay,” she tells me. “She’s confusing you. You’ve been through shit, and you’re an easy target.”

“Shut up.”

I drop my bag to the ground, and she bumps into a desk, quickly stepping away.

“So, you’re telling me we’re going to raise our kids next door to each other someday? You, a man-hating dyke with a shitty haircut and your sperm donor offspring, and me with my kids asking why Auntie Clay is groping the babysitter?”

I grab her by the collar with both fists and slam her up against the wall.

She whimpers and tries to push me off, but I grip her hair at the scalp with one hand and dig my fingers into her stomach, pinching the skin there with the other.

She cries out. “Clay!”

“Shhhh…” I whisper over her lips.

She squirms, but her hair is wrapped around my fingers, and she’s trapped.

“Stop,” she snivels.

But I’m not listening. “If you ever speak to me this way again, I will knock your teeth out.” I stare down into her eyes, a new energy filling me that kind of scares me, but I won’t fucking stop. Nothing comes between Liv and me. “Do you understand?”

Fear fills her blue eyes, and I squeeze harder as she tries to shift out of my grasp.

“Do you understand?” I bellow.

“Clay—”

But I’m doing the talking now.

“Now, Amy, I realize your sister is a Jesus-freak who mainlines coke to cope with her minister-husband getting another woman pregnant,” I say calmly but firmly. “And your father likes to court teenage boys for two weeks every summer in Thailand, so you’re just projecting your demons onto an easy target, but if you’re not my friend anymore…” I bite out my words and dig my fingers in harder, “I just don’t know how I’ll survive.”

She groans.

“Everyone will believe you and not me ,” I tell her, both of us knowing that’s not true at all. “Because your word means so much more than mine, right?”

Wrong.

I continue, the sudden rush of power emboldening me. “I’ll lose all my friends,” I say. “The rest of the school year will suck. No parties. No prom. Can you imagine the TikToks and tweets? In fact, I think I have several gay-bashing tweets for you to find on my feed. I think I also have a picture of myself in blackface at a Halloween party from a few years ago.”

The threat hangs in the air, her eyes widening as she remembers who’s really in fucking control here.

“Clay…”

“Those have probably been screenshotted already,” I say, feigning concern. “Won’t look good when I apply to Omega Chi or go for a fucking job interview in five years. Hatred for me will go viral.” I gasp. “Oh no, Amy. You’ve got me.”

“I was Beyoncé…” she whimpers, trying to explain her Halloween costume, but I push her into the wall again before I let go.

I swipe my bag off the ground and hook it over my shoulder as she stands frozen against the wall.

If she talks, I will end her.

“And don’t worry,” I say, casting her a glance up and down like I’m checking her out. Like I ever checked her out when she was sleeping over at my house or naked in a dressing room with me. “I was never tempted. You ain’t got what Liv’s got.”

And I stroll out of the classroom—and the school—quickly logging into Twitter and screenshotting all the shit I just bluffed I had on her before she deletes it.

• • •

I check my face in my side mirror, feeling a little weird, less dressed up than when I go to school.

But Liv isn’t into frills, and I don’t want to be beautiful or manicured or make her afraid to mess me up.

Holding my phone, I walk toward Mariette’s, a little early, so I can pick the table. Saints don’t usually come here in the middle of the week, but I don’t want to take the chance. I want her to myself.

The warm air caresses my bare arms, my stomach, and my chest, everything that’s not covered by my tank top as I walk inside in my jeans and flip flops. I put some waves in my hair with the curling iron and minimal makeup, hoping I look so positively kissable that she can’t wait to touch me.

“Sit anywhere,” the server with the ponytail and black bandana tells me as I walk in. “Can I bring you something to drink?

She grabs a tray of crawfish and carries it to a table. “Two Diet Cokes?” I ask. “And a dozen on the half shell to start. With condiments, please.”

She nods once, and I make my way through the diner to the courtyard in the back, the scent of flowers hitting me as I veer through the sparse diners to a table situated on the other side of a tree.

I drop my bag to the ground and sit down at the white, wrought-iron garden table, my chair scraping against the brick floor. The white tent walls billow with the breeze, the plastic windows fogged with the humidity, and I look up as the tree next to me reaches beyond where the roof should be, the sky overhead filled with stars.

The server sets down two drinks and then returns with a tray of oysters on ice, and I pull my water bottle out of my bag, uncapping it and instantly smell the Patrón inside.

“Don’t get started without me,” I hear someone say.

I smile and look up, seeing Liv head for the table.

But my heart nearly stops, seeing her short black skirt, long, golden legs, and black studded heels with a band secured around her ankles, making her look like she’s cuffed to a bed. Her ankles are definitely a feature I missed. One of her best. Fantastic ankles. And calves. And thighs.

Heels. I’ve never seen her in heels. Her faded, black band T-shirt is twisted tight around her body and tied at the back, baring her stomach, and I have no idea who Black Flag is, but I kind of love them now.

She wears faint red lip tint, and her hair is straightened and spilling around her.

She stands there, and after a moment she laughs a little. I realize my mouth is hanging open. I close it, my eyes trailing down her legs again.

I rise and kiss her, lingering close and smelling her soap, perfume, and lotion that all mixes to have this wonderful effect inside my belly.

“Nervous?” I ask.

She smiles. “In a good way.”

“You look amazing.”

She pulls away and sits, and I do too, a blush crossing my cheeks as I meet her eyes. All I want to do is touch her, and she knows. Now it’s just a matter of going through the motions until my bright idea of having a date ends, and we can get out of here.

We sit there for a few moments, the awkwardness of ‘what to do now’ when we’re used to either making out, having sex, or fighting leaves us at a loss for words.

“I own one non-school skirt,” she says, breaking the silence and unwrapping her straw. “And this is it.”

I like it. I slide my legs out a little more, hugging one of hers between mine. She leans her head on her hand, playing with her straw as her eyes fall to the little tears in my white top, the skin peeking through.

“What?” I ask.

“You look amazing, too.”

I feel underdressed now, but…her eyes don’t lie as they continue to linger on me.

She clears her throat as the server moves around the courtyard, music drifting through the entrance from the diner. “I haven’t been on many dates, to be honest,” she tells me. “Not sure how this is supposed to go.”

“We eat.” I unwrap my straw. “That usually takes the pressure off.”

I take a sip and stretch my arms over my head, taking some deep breaths to get those heels off my mind, but then her skirt reminds me of something, and I smile.

“I’ve seen you in that skirt before,” I tell her. “You wore it to a furniture store a couple years ago.”

She cocks her head, not seeming to remember.

“I was there with my mom.” I hold up the tabasco sauce and the lemons, giving her a choice. She points to the tabasco. “I think Army was working there, loading a piece onto a truck, and you were tagging along, I guess,” I tell her as I season two oysters. “My mom spoke to the salesman about our new dining room table she had ordered from their gallery in New York. You were moving around the store. Playing around. Plopping onto beds and couches and faking passing out when your brothers would try to lift things with you on top of them.”

She smiles, her head still leaning into her hand.

“The bay doors were open,” I go on. “Blowing loose locks from your ponytail into your face, your white smile so big even from yards away. I remember I couldn’t hear your laughter, but I could like…” My voice drops to a whisper, remembering the moment I knew I was in love with her. “I could feel it inside me.”

Her smile starts to fall as her breathing quickens.

“A bee caught scent of you and sent you into a panic,” I tease. “Which was funny, because you don’t panic. Army put you in a headlock, trapping you and making you squeal.”

“I think I remember that.”

It was a while ago. We knew each other by then, but I made sure she didn’t see me. I didn’t want her to stop playing.

I stare off into the tray of oysters. “You all seemed so happy.” And then I gaze across the table at her. “You were so pretty. I was dying for you even then.”

It’s actually amazing the skirt still fits her.

I stare at her, both of us suffering a lot of loss in the past few years, and both of us with our own hang-ups—me with my family and she with hers. She might not want to carry this relationship to college, and I might not want to go public and invite criticism for something that’s a fling, but I know without a doubt that I will never hurt her again.

I jerk my chin at the oysters. “Eat one,” I tell her.

She picks a shell up, and I watch as she opens her mouth, tips her head back, and swallows the mollusk, hot sauce running down the corner of her mouth. She dips out her tongue and swipes it up, tossing the shell down and licking her lips as she meets my eyes.

I groan inside, looking at her supple, soft lips.

I set the bottle in front of her, and she struggles to hold back her smile.

Uncapping the bottle, she tips it up and swallows, the plastic container crinkling in her hand.

“Mmmm…” She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, the breeze blowing her hair into her face as she caps the bottle again.

I nod at the shells. “Again.”

She gives me a look that tells me she knows what I’m doing, and she likes it.

Swallowing another oyster, she chases it with a shot, her eyes closing and a light sheen gathering at that little dip in her collarbone.

My thighs warm, watching her mouth move and swallows go down her throat. Everything is warm.

“These are good,” she says, seasoning the rest of the oysters for us. “Almost like we shouldn’t tear this place down to build a golf course.”

I give her a knowing look. “No, we shouldn’t.”

Mariette’s and Sanoa Bay are Florida, and I’d rather have this particular Floridian in front of me here than a sea of tourists making my father richer.

We eat, and I take a couple of shots, hiding the bottle when the server comes by. My stomach growls, realizing I haven’t eaten today besides the oysters, and I kind of want to order a meal, but she’s too far away, and I don’t know if I want to stay here longer.

“I hate this table between us,” I grumble under my breath.

She suddenly stands up, moves her chair next to mine, and sits down, her arm around the back of my chair, and her beautiful leg draped over my lap.

My hand immediately slides up the inside of her thigh as my lips find her neck. “I really like your outfit,” I whisper.

When school uniforms are a thing of the past, it’ll be fun to wear whatever I want and let her taunt me, doing the same.

She takes another shot, and I lick the tequila off her lips. She blinks, surprised as her eyes flit around us to who could be watching, but just this once, I don’t care. “This could be it,” I tell her, taking her again.

She feels too good to stop.

She kisses me, leaning into me and moaning, and I can’t stop smiling.

“So, when is this part of the date over?” she asks.

“Are you ready for part two? A romantic walk on the beach?”

“Ugh.”

I laugh. “A movie then?”

She scowls.

“Mini golf?”

She shakes her head, staring at my mouth.

But I keep going. “Followed by an in-depth conversation about our sociological, political, and theistic values, in that order?”

She snatches up my lips, and I’m really glad her house isn’t far away. We can still watch a movie or talk about theology, just in bed.

“Clayyyyy?” A voice booms in the distance.

I still, Liv stopping mid-kiss and hovering over my lips.

Was that…?

“What the hell?” I gasp.

My nerves fire, and I sit up straight, pulling my hands off her body.

Callum. I peek through the tree, seeing him saunter into the courtyard with Milo, Amy, and a couple of his friends in tow.

“What are they doing here?” I whisper, scooting away on reflex with my stomach twisting. “I got rid of that app.”

Shit. How did they find me?

Liv stares at me, but I don’t look at her. I can’t do this now. Not right now.

She waits a few seconds, the option to just take her back in my arms and own this hanging between us, but…

She rises. Scooting her chair back over to her side of the table, she takes out her phone and taps away, and I don’t know what she’s doing, but I just sit there, leaning back and see them head our way.

“Hey, baby,” Callum says, strolling over with a plate of key lime pie, Amy carrying a soda.

I glare at her. Did they follow me or something?

Callum slides a chair over and takes a seat at our table, his posse hovering behind him. He shifts his gaze to Liv. “Hey, baby.”

She scoffs under her breath like her patience with both of us is about gone.

Callum grabs my fork. “Heard you were here without me,” he says. “And here I thought you were with one of the Jaeger boys.” He looks from me to her. “Team meeting, ladies?”

“Bored, Ames?” Liv fires back. “Money, sex, privilege, but you’re still so bored, you gotta come all the way over here to look for entertainment, huh?”

I hold my glass, the icy condensation cooling my palm but not the rest of me.

“All the way over here,” Liv taunts. “Because if I were Clay, I wouldn’t want you.” She glances at me. “If I were Clay, I would find you pretty pathetic, and that must piss you off.”

His gaze sharpens on her, and I watch them, ready to mobilize if he moves.

She fixes her eyes back on him. “I’m even willing to bet you don’t get her hot. Or any woman, for that matter. That’s why you’re sexually abusive, isn’t it?”

Abusive…what?

“They don’t get hot,” Liv says again. “They smile. And they fawn. And they fake.” And then she sits up, rolling her hips a little, and moaning. “Oh, oh, you’re the best, Cal. The best.” She follows with more whimpers and groans.

I bite back my smile.

“Maybe she is hooking up with one of my brothers.” Liv shrugs. “Maybe more than one. I have five, after all. Sometimes they work as a team. I mean, how could you compete?”

I narrow my eyes, kicking her under the table. She laughs under her breath.

Callum cuts into the pie. “Your words hurt,” he says, “but not as much as I will, and you know it. We could carry you and Clay out of here right now and get away with it.”

“Could you?” she retorts.

His eyes gleam. “Five against two, Liv.”

“Is it?”

Just then, howls fill the air. “Ow, ow, ow!” And goosebumps spread over my skin, knowing who just entered Mariette’s.

That’s who she was texting. Her brothers.

Callum straightens in his chair, his blue eyes alert as four out of the five Jaeger boys fill the entrance, looking for their sister. I do a double take, seeing Krisjen holding Trace’s hand.

And Milo’s here. Awesome.

In a moment, everyone surrounds the table where Liv and I sit, the other diners in the courtyard casting glances and noticing something is up, but no one moves.

I speak low to Krisjen. “What are you doing with Trace?”

“We hooked up the night of the brawl,” she whispers over her hand.

I knew it.

I look left to right, the tension thick as the two groups stare at each other.

“So I hear there was a break-in at Fox Hill last night,” Callum says, eyeing my brothers. “Know anything about that?”

A break-in at the country club? I didn’t hear about that.

“I don’t know a thing,” Dallas replies. “We’ll keep an ear out, though. Anything stolen?”

“Nothing,” Callum snaps back. “Strange, huh? Just the face of the founder’s portrait scorched, even though there was a cash register and tons of liquor on the premises.”

“Yeah, strange,” Army tells him. “We’ll keep our ears open.”

“Sure, you will.”

And I dart my eyes between the two groups of people, feeling like I’m missing something. The Jaegers don’t keep the grounds at Fox Hill, nor do any of them work there in any other capacity. They wouldn’t break in just to defile a painting.

I’m not sure who would. Callum seems to know something I don’t, though.

Liv sits back in her chair. “So, um…Callum here thinks Clay is sleeping at our house tonight,” she announces, the truth about to slip off her delighted little tongue as she beams. “He thinks she’s in bed with a Jaeger.”

Her brothers chuckle, and Trace approaches me, grabbing his crotch. “Oh, come on, baby,” he coos down at me. “You know you own this.”

Ugh.

The Jaegers laugh again, because they know exactly where I’m sleeping tonight, and I stare at Liv, shaking my head. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Oh, immensely.” She grins, her face flush with enjoyment as she speaks to her brothers again. “I told him it was probably two of you.”

“Aw, why’d you have to go and tell him that?” Dallas teases.

She shrugs. “Everyone knows you and Iron are a team.”

“I guess our secret’s out, Dally,” Iron boasts, the brothers skimming their palms together and ending with a fist bump.

But Army speaks up. “Why doesn’t anyone ever think it’s me?”

Liv grumbles, “Because baby-mamas are too much drama.”

I laugh to myself. Army is good-looking, but yeah… No one wants to saddle that pony and be a stepmom.

“Maybe it’s Macon,” Iron adds.

I clench my teeth.

Liv nods. “Older man…”

“Experienced,” Trace taunts.

But Dallas cuts them off. “Nah, Macon doesn’t like rich princesses.”

I ball my fists, losing my patience. I don’t want the whole world to know my sex life, but I also don’t much care that it’s being insinuated that I’m sleeping with people I’m not.

“Well, it could be Macon,” Army inserts. “Because…”

And all the Jaegers sing together, “Everyone is our type when they’re naked!” Like it’s some fucking family motto or something.

Liv laughs with her brothers, all of them amused at my expense, and I’m pretty much done.

I reach over, scoop up a glob of Callum’s pie, and fling it right at Liv. It slaps into her damn chest, sticking and splattering on her chin, and she jerks, gasping.

Not so funny now, am I?

Everyone stills, barely breathing as they wait for Liv’s reaction. I lick my fingers, waiting.

“Oh, shit,” Milo whispers, covering his laugh with his hand.

Liv clears her throat and sits up. Iron moves forward, but she pushes him back as she rises. “It’s okay,” she chirps, looking between her brothers and the Saints. “No punching. No blood.” She picks up the tequila and downs a shot. “No arrests tonight. Agreed?”

I nod once. It would suck for this to get out of hand and stop being fun.

And just as she sets the bottle down and picks up the Diet Coke, I suck in a breath before she leans over the table, raises it high, and tips it over, emptying it onto my head.

“Ohhhh!” someone laughs.

Callum snaps his fingers, smiling excitedly for Amy to start filming with her camera phone, but I’m inhaling short, shallow breaths as the icy drink mattes my freshly washed hair and plasters my thin tank top to my fucking braless chest.

I’m gonna kill her.

I stand, grabbing a spoonful of whipped cream from the plate and hold it up, ready to launch it at her.

“Don’t do it.” She points her finger. “You got me. I got you. We’re even.”

Slowly, I shake my head, and I don’t care who’s checking me out in my indecent shirt right now. All I see is her.

“Uh-oh,” Trace laughs, and everyone backs away, getting ready.

I whip the spoon, the glob slamming right into her neck, and howls fill the air.

“Food fight!” Trace bellows up to the sky.

And everyone scrambles.

“Whoo-hoo!” someone screams and laughter fills the air.

Liv kicks her chair back and launches herself around the table, and I yelp, running. Trace grabs a pan of key lime, joined by his brothers, and everyone starts slinging food. Nearby diners grab their plates and jam, diving into the dining room and out of the line of fire.

“Keep filming this,” Callum shouts. “Hell yes!”

I grab someone’s abandoned beer on a table and whip around to face Liv. “Insinuating that I’m sleeping with your brother, and more than one at that?” I shout.

I shake the beer, letting it rip all over her.

She screams but then breaks into laughter. “I’m sorry!”

You are not.

I pick up anything I can find, tossing it at her, and she inches closer, holding up her hands to protect herself.

Amy films as Callum, Milo, and the guys pitch fruit salad, cakes, and drinks into the air, Liv’s family giving it back as good as they get, chasing the Saints around the patio.

It’s lucky this hasn’t evolved into a fist fight yet.

I leap over the buffet table, slipping and landing on my ass, but before I can climb to my feet, something warm and gooey spills over my head and down my arms.

I squeeze my eyes shut, the smell instantly hitting my nose.

Mashed potatoes? She’s dumped an entire vat from the buffet on top of me. “Ew!” I cry, shooting to my feet and peeling the mush out of my eyes. “I’m going to kill you!”

Ew, ew, ew.

I shake, feeling nasty. I need a shower.

Liv laughs so hard she throws her head back.

But before I can find food to hit her with, she slides over the table and grabs my hand. “Now I get to wash you.” And she kisses me.

Hell yes. “Get me out of here.”

Now. While everyone is distracted.

Food flies through the air, Dallas stalking Callum with a couple of eggs that look like they’ll hurt if hit with them, but we don’t stick around to worry if this escalates. Grabbing my bag at the table, we run, leaving the mess for tomorrow, which is, I hope, how long it takes Macon to realize we just destroyed the place.

Leaving my car behind, we run down the dark, dirt road, Liv removing her heels to keep up in her bare feet.

We stop, so she can unlock her front door.

“I need a bath, baby,” I whisper in her ear from behind.

The tequila has kicked in, and my body stirs. She opens the door, and I head straight up the stairs ahead of her, seeing the house dark.

“Macon!” she calls out.

There’s no answer.

The others are at Mariette’s, and I know she has a nephew around here somewhere. Must be with a babysitter.

She tails me as I head to the bathroom, and we both step in, locking the door behind us.

I drop my bag to the chair next to the tub and kick off my sandals. “Good first date?” I ask.

“Not bad.”

She starts the water, turning on the shower, and the room soon fills with steam. I sit on the edge, watching her bend over and check the water’s temperature.

It hurts to look at her. The perpetual red tint of her lips that makes them look like she was born that way. The glow of her olive skin, the ever-so-subtle blush of her cheeks. Her long legs and long hair and the sweat on her body and my mouth on her tits that would make Father McNealty rain down fire and brimstone during Sunday Mass, if he knew what we were doing.

Am I really letting Callum escort me to the ball? Am I really not taking her to prom?

I lower my eyes. I want everyone to know she’s mine. She has my heart, and it scares me that she may not want it as much as I want her to have it.

She still hasn’t acknowledged that I told her I loved her.

“I wanted to tell them so badly that it was your bed I was in,” I say quietly.

She looks over at me, and I rise, leading her into the shower, both of us slowly peeling off each other’s clothes and my eyes never leaving hers.

I unzip her skirt, letting it fall into the tub. The shower douses my back as she peels off my tank top and helps me strip off my jeans.

We dump our food-stained clothes into the sink to be washed out later, and she pushes me back under the spray, helping me clean my hair.

But I’ve barely tipped my head back, closing my eyes, before her mouth covers my nipple.

There’s something mentally wrong with people like Olivia Jaeger.

I shake with a laugh at Amy’s words today. Then there’s something wrong with me, too. I’m so hard for her already.

“What are you laughing at?” Liv asks.

I grab her face and bring it up to me. “Nothing, baby. You just make me shiver.” And I kiss her, swirling my tongue into her mouth and wrapping my arm around her, holding her tight against me as the warmth blankets us.

Spinning her around, I rinse her off, her hair and body, never taking my hands off her as her kisses on my neck seep down into my belly.

“You said you could do anything a man could do,” I taunt. “Prove it.”

“Or what?” She bites my lips. “You threatening to get from Callum what you can’t get from me?”

She licks my mouth, and we grind on each other faster.

I groan. “Start getting more possessive, and I won’t have to. Tell me I’m your girl.”

Tell me.

“You trying to start shit right now?”

“Yes.” And I kiss her deep and strong, covering her mouth like it’s my last meal.

She slides down the wall, squatting between my legs, and yanks my hips into her mouth. Oh, Jesus. Her tongue glides up my pussy over and over again, ending each time with a nibble or sucking.

Again and again.

My eyes roll into the back of my head, her lips tugging my clit and making me moan. I don’t care who’s here to hear. Let them hear.

I lift my leg, placing my foot on the edge of the tub behind her, fisting her hair with one hand and reaching up, gripping the windowsill with another.

“Fuck me, princess,” she says.

She bites me, and I let my head fall back, overcome. I roll my hips, thrusting into her mouth against the wall, and I peer down, taking in the view.

She kisses and tugs, sucking on my inner thighs and swirling her tongue over my slit. “Fuck.” I shake, grinding on her mouth faster. “More, Liv.”

She takes my ass in both hands, diving inside me with her tongue, and I cry out. Heat fills my stomach, and I throb as she thrusts into me and rubs her own clit between her legs.

She licks and tastes. “You’re so wet, baby.” And then she meets my eyes again. “But I’m dying to stretch you.”

I pause, my body aching to come and every inch of me hot. My pointed nipple hovers above her.

Before I can make sure I understand what she wants, she stands, turns the showerhead toward the wall and off of us, and reaches outside the shower, digging out the toy.

Once I see it, my heart jackhammers. “I’m scared.”

She meets my gaze. “Me too.”

She holds it under the water, rinsing it clean, and while I know she’s just saying that to soothe me, I appreciate it. It feels, for a moment, like we’re doing something together for the first time. Even though I know I’m not her first time. Or probably her fifth.

She kisses me again. “It’s the anticipation that makes you worry,” she says, pressing the button and finding a slow, steady rhythm.

She glides it between my legs, and I jerk, grabbing onto her.

“I can’t wait till you fuck me with this,” she whispers.

And I can’t help but smile. I would do anything to bring her pleasure.

“Come here, baby.” And she pulls me down on top of her as she sits on the bathtub floor, leaning back into a relaxed position. I straddle, following her lead, both of us rolling our hips and grinding on each other.

“You want to do it in here?” I ask.

She nods. “Yes. We’re wet. If we leave here, you’ll be cold. Stay with me.”

Always.

She moves the toy between us, and I scoot down her legs a little, watching her fit the shorter end inside of herself. It vibrates, I hear a sudden intake of breath, and my eyes dart up to hers, seeing a pained look on her face as she sinks it inside.

She whimpers, and my heart skips a beat, but…the pain fades out of her expression and she calms.

She rolls the toy a little, working the ribbed part over her clit until her breathing is no longer short and shallow but hard and deep.

Then, she looks at me. “Come here.”

God, she’s beautiful.

Leaning down, I kiss and suck her stomach, nibble her breasts, and then I lower my mouth on the toy, taking it down my throat and giving her something to watch.

“Clay…” she murmurs.

I wet it, not sure if the fright has dried me out, but I’m doing this. I’m doing this with her. Bringing my leg over, I straddle her again and lower myself onto it, feeling the tip dip inside.

I immediately tense up.

“Is it too big?” she asks.

I want to say yes. I want to retreat. But people do this every day. I can do this.

I move my hips in a circle, brushing the vibrator over my clit and getting warmed up again, and then I sink it inside, just an inch at first, and then I stop. “Just give me a minute,” I tell her.

I slide it out and back in, feeling the bulb of the shaft stretch me, and it hurts, but I sink farther down, the pain uncomfortable but bearable.

Liv thumbs my nipples, both of us silent and slow as I slide out and then back in again until I’m fully seated on her.

“Liv…”

“Just stay there,” she whispers, holding me on her. “Stay there. Give it a minute.”

I lean down, stretched, a little sore, and filled. It’s inside me, all the way.

I kiss her, squeezing her breast, and I start moving, grinding on her.

“Ride me, Clay.”

“Yeah,” I moan.

I rub on her, letting the vibrations do their work, and in a moment, I’m so warm, I know I’m wet. I slide off and back on it, moving it in and out easily now, not feeling bad at all. Just…stretched.

I smile, lean back, and grip both sides of the tub, loving her eyes on my body as I move and put on a show for her.

“You want it, baby?” She grips my hips.

I grind faster, the thickness, the tip hitting me deep inside, and the little motor jackhammering on our clits, making a combination beat of the best fucking thing I think I’ve ever felt.

I groan, changing positions to bounce on top of her. “Oh, God,” I cry, feeling it there now. Chasing it.

She squeezes my hips, baring her teeth and staring between us where our bodies meet. “Fuck, Clay. Harder, baby. Come on. Harder. It feels so good.”

And I can’t tell the difference between her moans and mine as we fuck in the bathtub.

I bring her hand up and suck on her finger, and she arches her back and digs her nails into my skin. “Jesus,” she gasps.

And then throws her head back, every muscle tightening as she comes, and I thrust my pussy into hers, grinding her so hard I feel her clit throb against mine until I fucking come.

“God!” I cry. “Liv! Oh, it feels so good.”

She grips my tits as I shudder and shake, my insides bursting with a wave of euphoria. My hips piston against her, jerking harder and faster until the orgasm starts to leave me, and I collapse on top of her, every part of me burning with exhaustion.

She holds me to her, and I think I register kisses on my hair, but the world spins too fast for me to be sure.

The vibrator still buzzes inside of us.

“Again,” she tells me, taking hold of my ass.

I look up, smiling before I kiss her lips.

“In the bed,” I tell her. “You on top. Fucking me backward.”

Her eyebrows shoot up.

I want to see her back move, her hair bouncing across her skin. And her ass.

I pull myself off the toy, wincing at the ache I didn’t feel a moment ago. I stand up, my legs wobbly, and she pulls the other end out of her. I take her hand and help her up.

“You okay?” she asks.

I think so. “Yes.”

Except none of this is leaving my system. I simply keep wanting more.

She holds one end of the toy under the spray, and I see the water turn a little pink from my blood.

I feel a blush cross my cheek and a smile begging to get out at the reminder of what she did to me.

How I can’t go back now.

Then, she turns it over and washes the other end.

Again, more blood.

I shoot my eyes up to her, but she’s not looking at me.

Wait…

“You never did that with anyone before?” I gape at her.

“No,” she says quietly, still not meeting my eyes.

But I thought that…

My mouth falls open, and I want to speak, but I don’t know what to say. There are too many thoughts.

It was her first time, too.

I grab her by the arm, turn her to me, and I hear the toy drop to the floor as I cover her mouth with mine.

I can never go back now.