by Riley Ashby
“Are you really going to be like this?” I stepped closer, invading her space, and wrapped one arm around her waist to pull her tight against me. She sucked in a breath and didn’t release it for several heartbeats. Her brown hair fell straighter than usual around her shoulders, slimming her cheekbones. Or maybe that was clever makeup application, I couldn’t tell. She stared pointedly over my shoulder, never lowering the glass far from her mouth.
“I wasn’t lying before. You look beautiful.” I lowered my lips to her neck and kissed her. She twisted her neck, skin shifting beneath my lips. I had to bite back my groan.
She scoffed and leaned back against my hand, taking a large sip of her nearly empty glass. “Yeah, I did a great job of covering up the bruises your father inflicted on me, and you were nice enough to stay away from my face last night.”
My breath came out in a huff. “I’m trying to give you a compliment.” I could hear the thin quality of my voice and took another drink from my glass. My hand dropped from her body, and she stepped away.
“I don’t want compliments. I want you to leave me alone.” She met my eyes at last, already hazy from the alcohol. “You get me twenty-four hours a day. Let me have a few hours here.”
My irritation was growing quicker than I wanted. She didn’t need to be behaving like this. We should be having a good time. I apologized for the previous night or came close enough, didn’t I? If she wasn’t going to play along, though, I didn’t want to bother. I rubbed at my upper lip in frustration. Her eyes rested on my fingers for a moment. I hid them in my pocket. “Are you going to behave?”
“You know I am.” Ice cubes clinked against the bottom of her empty glass. She stabbed the lime and put it in her mouth, sucking out the juice and spitting it back into her glass. She laughed, her voice rough like sandpaper. “I don’t have a choice.”
She looked away again, and when her face brightened, I thought for a second that she was going to play nice with me. I quickly realized, however, that Anita had joined us. She ignored me completely as Madeline slipped past me and hugged her, giggling. They glanced at me conspiratorially before Anita dragged Madeline back over to the bar.
“I only drink hard liquor,” I heard Anita say. “You get the best calorie-to-alcohol ratio that way.”
I slammed back the rest of my drink and ordered another once they were on the other side of the room.
*
The event was philanthropic, a fundraiser for some obscure cancer currently afflicting a beautiful young girl or athletically promising college freshman. A gathering of rich men and women to raise money for a disease they hoped would never touch them if they threw enough money at it. Madeline and Anita wandered through the silent auction, no doubt writing my name on various items for exorbitant amounts of money.
“They’re going to max out your black card if you let them go much longer.”
Shawn had been watching them with me since he arrived. He’d always been interested in my sister, though my father kept such tight tabs on her, I doubted they had ever done more than text each other. I didn’t see how he could have the time to chase after her. I was the only person who worked harder than he did. I couldn’t imagine she was good enough in bed to overlook her glaring personality flaws.
I snagged a canape off a tray being carried around by a thin man in a cheap rented suit, shoving the whole thing in my mouth and trying not to chew too angrily. “I don’t mind. If I fund a cure, maybe they’ll name it after me. Good publicity.”
He laughed, sipping the last dregs of a blood-red wine. Hearing his voice, Anita craned her neck to see us. She flashed him a wink and a smile, then snarled at me. Madeline turned as well, too quickly. When she stumbled against the table, Anita laughed and offered her hand for support.
“She’s gonna kill herself in those heels,” I grumbled.
“When are you going to introduce me?” He licked his lips, and I resisted the urge to slap him.
“Once she’s sober enough to remember meeting you.”
I checked my watch. It was only just ten o’clock, and Madeline was on her fourth drink of the night with no signs of slowing down. She hadn’t done anything too mortifying yet, thank God. I walked behind the girls as they wandered into another room, glancing over the items I was apparently interested in buying and crossing out almost all of them. Shawn laughed at me.
“Now you just look cheap. Why don’t you reel her back in?”
I was angry enough that I’d been thinking about grabbing her by the hair and walking her out of here so I could fuck her in the back of my car. The state she was in, she’d probably let me. “You only want me to do that so Anita will come talk to you.”
“Guilty as charged. But listen, I want to talk to you about something.” He put his hand on my arm, stopping me mid stride as the girls disappeared around the corner. I had the distinct feeling of being a dog walker who had just lost the leash. Not that I had ever walked a dog in my life.
“What’s up?” I forced myself to turn and face him, ears cocked for the sound of something expensive crashing to the floor if Madeline finally tripped too hard over her own feet.
“I’ve been approached by an investor. A serious investor.”
He handed me a piece of paper with a figure on it, a number followed by enough zeros to make even my head spin. I stared at him in disbelief.
“This much? For what?”
He tore up the paper and shoved the tiny pieces in his pocket. “They have some new business they can bring to us. Someone willing to pay much more for our items than some royalty. Certainly more than the US government.”
“What’s the catch?”
“They want proceeds of sales from this group. Fifty percent.”
I nearly spit out my drink. “That’s ludicrous.”
He nodded. “That’s what I said at first. This is serious money, though. I ran some scenarios. We’ll still turn more profit than we’ll make on similar sales.”
“I assume you drew up a contract?”
He looked mildly offended. “Of course.”
“Okay. Put it on my desk Monday, and I’ll take a look.”
He nodded again, satisfied, when we heard the sound of glass shattering on the floor.
“I’m going to kill her,” I muttered as I walked as quickly as I could toward the noise, but neither my sister nor Madeline were anywhere to be seen. Two staff members had apparently collided at the entrance to the kitchen. They were currently arguing in tight whispers while shards of glass lay spread across the floor. I kicked away a particularly sharp-looking wedge.
“Thank God for small miracles,” Shawn chimed in, scanning the room with me for the girls. They were standing on the far wall, craning their necks to see what had caused the commotion. Madeline’s face was flushed; her hands were temporarily free of a drink as she twirled her long hair around a finger and held it off her neck while she fanned herself with the other hand.
“Let’s go before they actually cause the next problem,” I said, making a beeline for them before Madeline spotted me and ran away again.
When I got close enough, I reached out to touch her arm. She jerked away and stumbled against the wall, causing a few people nearby to glance over. Her eyes were completely unfocused, and she had the tilted posture of someone for whom the world was spinning faster than usual. I grabbed her, holding her up, while my free hand dug her ever-present hair tie out of my pocket. She took it from me, looking confused.
“You stole this?” She couldn’t hold my gaze. I let her go and pulled back her hair. She didn’t fight me; instead, she just held my bicep for balance. Her hand burned through my jacket.
“I found it. You almost left it behind in your effort to make it out the door ahead of me.”
Her hair was too silky. It slipped through my fingers as I tried to figure out how to tie up her hair. How did girls do this?
“I always get hot when I drink.”
“Most people do.” Her hair twisted through m
y fingers, tangling in the elastic.
She knocked my hands out of the way and effortlessly pulled her hair into a ponytail. “I bought a horse.”
I sighed. “No, you didn’t. I crossed it out.”
Her lower lip jutted out. “But you have a stable. We could have a horse.”
I cocked my head at her. That “we” was interesting. “I told you, no animals.”
“You wouldn’t have to ride it.”
“That’s beside the point. How many drinks did you have?”
She held up one hand, splaying all her fingers. “At least this many.”
I glanced at Anita, wondering if she could fill me in, but her focus was on Shawn. They had stepped away, and he was whispering in her ear while he put one hand on the small of her back. She licked his neck.
Turning my attention back to the girl I wished was licking my neck, I traced one finger down her arm so lightly she didn’t seem to notice. “You didn’t tell me you were going to get white girl wasted tonight. I would have appreciated the heads-up.”
She couldn’t respond due to her yawn. “I don’t really care, Meyer.”
I checked my watch and saw it wasn’t even midnight. At least this gave me an excuse to leave early. She didn’t protest when I hooked her hand around my elbow. Putting her head on my shoulder, she closed her eyes as I steered her to the door.
“Stay awake.” I tapped her on the head. “You can sleep once we get in the car.”
She nodded but didn’t open her eyes. I sighed and said my goodbyes to Shawn, ignoring Anita, and then pulled Madeline through the house as quickly as I dared. When we got outside, she insisted on taking off her shoes before walking another thirty feet to the car.
“I’m never having kids,” I said under my breath. I texted my father to let him know the driver was taking us back and would return for him and Anita shortly.
Strapping Madeline into the seat belt was another adventure since she insisted on helping, and her “helping” only made things worse.
She dozed off on the ride back to my house, her head falling against my shoulder. I pushed her hair out of her face and dropped my lips to her crown, breathing deeply. All the smoke and other people in the house weren’t able to obscure the tantalizing smell of her.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. She grunted, and panic rose in my throat, but she was still asleep, twisting in her seat and tangling in the belt to cuddle against my side.
As quiet as I was opening the door at the house, she woke up when I tried to pull her into my arms and carry her into the house, insisting on walking inside herself.
“It was a compliment,” she said as she dropped her shoes next to the door, not bothering to even set them upright.
“What was?” I asked as I scooped them up, one hand on her shoulder to steady her as she struggled to remember the way to my bedroom.
“That I avoided you all night.”
I shifted my hand to her upper arm, holding her firmly as she took the stairs with tentative steps. “I don’t know. Ignoring someone is generally considered rude.”
“Is jus’ ’cause I can’t look at your stupid face.” She stumbled, and I pulled her upright as gently as I could. “Not after you kissed me.” She turned around so quickly I lost my grip on her, and she stumbled against the wall again. Rather than right herself, she grabbed my tie and pulled my face to hers. “You’re too pretty to play like that. It’s not fair.” Her voice lost the drunken slur. She was suddenly clear, speaking in such a low tone I had to lean in to hear her. Goose bumps flew up my spine.
“You’re looking at me right now.” I placed my hands on either side of her head, trapping her, but she didn’t notice. She was suddenly laser focused on me; her gaze steady instead of slipping left as it had been all night.
“This doesn’t count.” She nudged my nose with her own. I brushed my lips against her cheek. She leaned into me for a moment, and I moved to her neck, but she pulled away. “You can’t do anything right now. I don’t consent.”
“Yes, well, we’re kind of past laws at this point.” I grabbed her neck and yanked her to me, putting my lips over her pulse. She sighed and spread her hands across my chest, slipping beneath my jacket and around to my back.
“You make me so fucking mad.”
I took one hand and cupped her chin, asserting control but not being rough. I’d expected her to recoil from me, after the night before, but she acted as if she’d wanted this for some time. I brushed my thumb against the soft skin of her cheek, allowing myself a measure of gentleness while she was so far gone. She looked at my lips, and I leaned closer to her.
“Why is that?”
She froze for a second, not even breathing as I closed the distance. I was thrumming with how close she was, but she turned her head at the last moment. “I told you already.” She pulled away and stumbled along toward the room. She paused, considering, then looked back at me. “I don’t think you really would. Rape me, I mean.” She was struggling with the clasp around her neck and let her hands drop when I reached to help her. She let the gown fall to the floor, revealing her perfect ass in a sexy little G-string.
“Don’t look,” she said, wandering to the dresser where she’d stowed the shorts and T-shirt she wore as pajamas.
“Too late.” I adjusted myself, worried about my erection tearing through my pants. I hadn’t taken the time to properly admire her from behind in the shower, too focused on trying to get in her. But now she was bending at the waist as if to tempt me, sticking her ass right up in the air.
Stepping into her shorts was an endeavor, but she managed it. The shirt proved more difficult as she tried to stick her head through one of the arms before finding the proper hole. Clothed, she spun around and fell to the floor at the bottom of the bed, spreading her limbs wide.
“Please don’t tie me up tonight. Is not like I’m gon’ go anywhere.” She was already half asleep. I undressed, never taking my eyes off her.
“You can sleep in the bed tonight.”
“Nope.” She was surprisingly resolute, holding up a finger and waving it at me like I was a child. “Boundaries. I has them. Especially after you kissed me. Why d’you do that?”
“You kissed me back.”
“You tricked me.”
“How so?”
“Magic.” She rolled over and curled in on herself, trying to hide her goose bumps now that she was back to cold since a hundred people didn’t surround us. I pulled her up, not caring when she gasped as my erection pressed against her. She went limp, and I stumbled a little at her sudden dead weight.
“Madeline, come on. You’ll have a bad enough headache tomorrow. Just sleep in the bed. For one night.”
“I don’t consent.”
God, she was persistent. “I won’t try anything. Promise.”
“Mmkay. You do keep your promises.” She never opened her eyes as she let me help her into the bed and pull the blanket over her. She burrowed into the pillow. “You’re not helping me, you know. Being nice.”
I slipped into the bed next to her, hooking one of her legs with mine beneath the sheets. “It’s okay. You won’t remember.”
Her only answer was her breath.
Madeline
When I woke up the next day, pillowed in downy blankets rather than the chafe of carpet threads, I thought for a moment I was dreaming. Some dream clung to me, not so much a memory but a sensation. A burning lust in my chest as Meyer lowered his face to mine, my fingers wrapped in his tie as I pulled him closer. The tiny heartbreak of his hand on my face.
The next moment, my hangover hit. I wondered at first if someone had jabbed an ice pick through my right eye. My hand raised to press against my forehead, and my knuckles brushed against cool skin.
I yelped or tried to, but it came out more like a wail. Someone laughed. I rolled my head to the side, squinting out of the eye that hurt less. Meyer was lying next to me, reclining with his hands behind his head as though he was on the damn beach. My e
yes fell to the cut of his abs leading below his boxers.
I want to lick him there.
“Are you still drunk?”
I looked back at his face hurriedly. One of his eyebrows was raised at me. “What? No.”
“Are you sure?” He shifted to his side and drew one finger down my midline, between my breasts and across my stomach. “You’re looking at my cock and salivating.”
I sneered at him and shook off his hand, rolled over, and slid to the floor while trying to stay as horizontal as possible for the benefit of my head. When I was out of his sight, I quickly checked myself over. Fully dressed. Underwear still on. I breathed an audible sigh of relief. So I hadn’t completely lost my mind.
“You were very emphatic about not consenting.” He was leaning over the edge of the bed and looking at me. I covered both eyes and ground the heels of my hands into my eye sockets. Tearing out my eyes was seeming like a better and better idea.
“Did I have to define ‘consent’ for you, or did you look it up?”
“I asked my phone on the way home. It was very helpful.”
“Ha-ha.” I wanted to kill myself. Or I wanted him to kiss me again. Maybe he could kiss me, then I could kill myself.
No. If he kissed me, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
I was the worst fucking traitor.
I pulled myself upright, gripping the edge of the bed while the world spun. Meyer was lying down again, busy on his phone. He didn’t look at me as he spoke.
“You going to lose it?”
I dared to shake my head a millimeter in each direction. “No. I’ll be okay. I need water.”
“Go get some, then.”
I huffed, torn between wanting someone to take care of me and wanting to get as far away from him as possible. I stumbled to the bathroom and, after taking a long drink straight from the tap, set about the arduous task of removing the makeup that had settled into my pores overnight. No chance he thought I was beautiful this morning. My lipstick was smeared halfway across my face, and the mascara beneath my eyes made me look like a raccoon.