by Eva Ashwood
I run to my dresser drawers and open the top one, which has my favorite negligee. Honestly, I’ve never worn it for a guy before. A friend of mine bought it for my eighteenth birthday, kind of as a joke, but I think it’s actually tasteful and sexy, so I decide that I’m going to go ahead and throw caution to the wind. I put the negligee on and then sit on my bed, waiting.
The next ten minutes literally feel like an eternity.
Desperate to kill time and distract myself from my nerves, I stand up and look into the mirror to inspect myself.
And as I look at the girl with fine-spun blonde hair and deep brown eyes, I realize something—I’m beautiful.
In fact, I look damn fine. For so many years, my self-esteem was almost non-existent because of what the Icons did to me, but looking in that mirror, I can see my beauty, and my power, for the first time in a long time. My hair is up in a messy bun, and I let it down, allowing the strands to fall over my back.
It’s tousled and messy, like it’s just waiting for someone to plunge their fingers into it. Good.
The picture is complete.
Now all that’s left to do is wait.
I hear my phone ring, and I pick it up anxiously, wondering if it’s Trent calling. But it’s my dad. Shit, shit, shit. Do I answer it or not? In a moment of panic, I press ACCEPT and bring the phone to my ear.
“Hey, what’s up? Is everything okay?” I press a hand to the silky fabric over my heart, trying to calm the rapid flutter of my heart.
“Oh, everything’s fine. Just wanted to tell you that I picked Claire up, and she’s going on and on about how you and Trent have patched things up. Trent called her and said you and he are starting over. Going back to the way things were in high school.”
“Yep. That’s right!” I say with a forced smile, looking up at the clock once more and then over to the mirror, where I can still see the image of me in a negligee.
I feel a little sick. Except Dad doesn’t realize one thing—when Trent said we’re going back to how things were in high school, he probably meant the worst parts of high school.
“I just think that’s great,” he goes on, and I can hear Claire’s soft murmur of agreement in the background. “You know, it means a lot to both of us that you and Trent are making an effort. It really means a lot.”
“Of course, Dad. Have fun on your date!” I say, desperately searching for a way to end this phone call.
“And we’re thinking there may be some holiday plans in our future.”
“What?”
That stops me in my tracks. I think I may actually throw up.
“I said, Claire and I are thinking that a family holiday trip might be fun. We don’t have anything booked yet. We’re just making preliminary plans.”
“Um, yeah, sure, Dad. That sounds like a really great idea.”
Oh my God, I feel like I’m dying. The tension inside me is about to explode. Eyeing the clock, I pace around the dorm, which is set up like two bedrooms side by side—one half mine, the other half Leslie’s.
It’s already seven p.m. Maybe Trent will be late?
My mind is spinning, and I can’t decide whether or not to throw on a robe and bring this insane revenge plan to an end. It would be easy to do. I could just tell Trent I’m so sorry, I need a few more minutes to get ready, blah, blah, blah. I could close the laptop, and he and I could order pizza or something.
“Okay, Ems. Gotta go. We just got to the restaurant, and I don’t want to be a bad date,” Dad finally says. I can hear Claire laughing in the background, and she sounds so happy that it breaks my heart.
“Have fun. Love you,” I say through numb lips.
“Love you too.”
I hang up the phone and walk toward my laptop. I put my hand on top of it, almost ready to close it, when I hear a knock at the door.
“Oh, shit,” I mutter to myself.
This is it. It’s the point of no return.
I either do this and deal with the consequences, whatever they might be, or I walk away. I let Trent get away with every fucked up thing he did to me. With all the fucked up shit he still plans to do.
I can’t. I’m sorry, Dad. I can’t just let it go.
This is war, and in every battle, there’s collateral damage. I’ll deal with the fallout later, but right now, the game is fucking on.
Letting go of the laptop, I leave it open and walk slowly toward the door.
“Coming!” I call out, taking one last look in the mirror to make sure everything looks alright.
Then I open it, and the whoosh of air as the door swings wide makes the flimsy, silky fabric of the negligee dance against my bare skin.
14
Trent
As I’m walking to Emma’s, a strange feeling stirs in my gut.
When she asked me to come to her place, I figured it could be one of two scenarios. Either she wants to really patch things up with me in a private setting, or she wants a continuation of what happened between us in the back hallway at Louie’s. I’m seriously hoping that it’s the latter, because that will make my plan to ruin her all the more complete.
It’s one thing to get her to trust me emotionally, but if she gives herself to me physically, I know my betrayal in the end will fucking wreck her.
That thought stops me in my tracks for a second, burning through the cloud of anger and lust that’s swirling through my head.
What will it do to me if I have sex with her?
Will those old feelings come back? I was fucking in love with her in high school, until the day she broke my family and my heart. If we have sex, will I find myself wanting to have her instead of wanting to destroy her?
A stab of guilt pierces my stomach, and I curl my lips into a snarl, pushing it away.
I don’t want to feel guilty. And yet, somehow, I do.
I know that Emma is a good person, but what she did to my family was just so fucked up that there’s no way around this. I need to see her go down. And if that means getting a chance to fuck her instead of making love to her, then so be it. I gotta do what I gotta do.
Filled with new resolve, I start walking again, picking up the pace as I cross campus toward Emma’s dorm.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I pull it out and answer without looking at it, my gaze still trained on the building in the distance. “Yeah?”
“Hi, honey. You busy?”
Mom.
The cool distance I heard in her voice last night is gone. She sounds relaxed and happy, no longer pissed at me since I explained to her that Emma and I have patched things up, and that we’re going to start fresh.
That’ll all come crashing down soon enough, but she doesn’t need to know that. She doesn’t need to know that Emma is the one who betrayed her either. I’d rather let her live in blissful ignorance, believing the best in people—I’ll take care of it. I’ll protect her.
“Nah. Not too busy. Just about to grab a bite.”
“Oh, well, I won’t keep you. I’m with Paul, heading to dinner too,” Mom says.
“Cool.”
The word is a deadpan grunt, but she doesn’t pick up on it.
“Yeah, we’re trying out a new place tonight. I hope it’s not a dud.” She laughs, and I get the sense that she’s beating around the bush, putting off telling me what she really called for. I stop and knit my brow.
“I’m meeting up with a friend, Mom. I gotta go.”
“Oh, wait, before you go,” she says quickly. “Paul and I have been discussing the idea of taking a trip together. All four of us. What do you think about that?”
I lift the phone away from my ear, staring at it. What do I think?
Jesus. I try to imagine myself going on a vacation with Emma and her dad, and the idea seems so fucked up to me that I can’t even picture it. Fucking hell, we had one dinner together, and now we’re all supposed to pile into a car and take a road trip together or something? What, am I supposed to start thinking of Emma as my sister?
&
nbsp; That thought fills me with a new kind of rage, something I don’t quite understand.
She’s not my fucking sister.
She’ll never be my sister.
“That would be… interesting,” I say, not hiding my doubt.
“Well, nothing is set in stone. Just wanted to mention it to you.” She either doesn’t pick up on the tone of my voice, or she’s ignoring it. “And I think it’s just so sweet that you and Emma spoke today, and things seem to be on the mend.”
“Yeah, we talked. Everything’s good.”
“I just think that she’s the sweetest girl. You two used to be so close. Be nice to her, okay?”
“Yeah, mom. I’ll be nice to her,” I bite out, seriously annoyed at this point. Is this what Emma wanted? Was this her game plan when she decided to rat my mom out to my dad for one little mistake?
Was she trying to steal my family? Steal my mom because she didn’t have one?
“Good.” I can hear the satisfaction in Mom’s voice. “Oh, I’ve gotta go.”
“Talk to you later.”
“Bye, honey.”
So, there ends one awkward as fuck conversation with my mom. And such interesting timing. It is almost like she knows I’m on my way to Emma’s place to destroy her.
I finally reach her building and march up the stairs, anticipation building in me with every step I take. Maybe Emma just wants to talk in private, to try to convince me again that she never lied to me in high school.
Or maybe she wants something else entirely.
And if she does… fuck it.
I’ve wanted Emma Holloway since the first damn day I met her. I used to dream of holding her in my arms, of wrapping her up in my embrace as her soft heat gripped my cock. Of burying my face in her hair and inhaling her sweet scent.
Maybe this won’t be anything like that. We hate each other too much for that.
But my body doesn’t care what my heart feels. It still craves Emma with a need that almost knocks me off balance.
Calm the fuck down, I remind myself. Play it cool. Remember, she still thinks this is day one of your “new leaf.”
I walk down her hall, and when I come to her door, I lift my hand and knock twice.
“Coming,” she calls, and it seems to take fucking forever for her to open the door.
And when she does…
Motherfucking baby Jesus.
I try to not let my jaw drop to the damn floor, but seeing Emma standing there in almost naked glory is too much for me to bear. My cock goes rock hard, straining against the confines of my jeans, but I can’t do anything to hide it. Nor should I, considering that she was the one that put on that damn negligee for me to see.
And I was right.
This girl is so fucking bad for me. Because I can’t think. Her gorgeous tits under silky lavender fabric have destroyed every brain cell in my skull. Her big brown eyes are open wide, and she doesn’t look like a seductive vixen. She looks innocent and almost scared, like she can’t believe she’s doing this.
And that’s what snaps the few shreds of restraint still holding me back.
That damn look on her face.
If she was like all the other girls who’ve thrown themselves at me, maybe I could resist. But Emma wears her heart on her sleeve, and the look on her face right now is like a prey animal stranded on a plain in front of a lion.
She knows she’s done for.
I just have to prove it to her.
My hand flies up to land against the wood of the door, pressing it open wider as my gaze devours her. I’m about to step inside when Emma surprises the shit out of me by grabbing two fistfuls of my shirt and pulling me into her room.
Well, what do you know? The kitten has claws.
I kick the door closed behind me, and without even saying a word, I kiss her, pressing my lips hard to hers the way I wanted to last night. I bring my hand to her lower back and pull her against me so that I can feel all of her body pressed up against mine, only the silky fabric of her negligee and my clothes separating us.
My tongue licks at the seam of her lips, and she doesn’t resist, opening to me. In fact, she does more than give in—she gives back as good as she gets. When my tongue invades her mouth to devour her sweetness, hers fights back, tangling with mine, forcing its way into my mouth as our lips bruise and our teeth clash together.
This isn’t just a kiss.
It’s a fist-fight with lips. A war. A challenge.
“What the fuck are you doing, Holloway?” I mutter into her mouth, hiking her against me again, grinding my cock against her softness.
How can she be so soft? I know the hard edges are there. The cruelty. The lies.
But all I feel right now is the softness, and I want to bury myself inside of her, to pound into her until I can see the truth again.
I need to fucking come inside her. Then maybe I’ll be able to see with clear eyes.
“I thought you wanted a truce, Cooper,” she murmurs harshly, her lips barely pulling away from mine long enough to speak. She’s pouring her words into my mouth, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think they were laced with poison.
But I drink them down anyway, spinning her so that her back is to the door before slamming her against it, sliding my leg between hers and grinding into her, lifting her against me until I swear I can feel the hard nub of her clit against my thigh.
She rips her mouth away from mine, her chocolate eyes flying wide in shock as a low moan falls from her lips.
I grin triumphantly.
That’s right, little liar. You don’t get to win this time.
Grasping her face with one hand, I keep her pinned to me with the other, using the door for leverage as I move against her, working my thigh harder against her clit. I can feel her jaw clenching rhythmically as she presses her lips together, trying to deny me the noises I know she wants to make.
But she can’t deny me for long.
As I push her higher and higher, her mouth finally drops open, and she sucks in little gasping breaths of air that make her chest heave against mine. Little mewling cries fall from her lips, and she tries to shake her head, but I don’t release my grip.
“I did want a fresh start, Ems,” I murmur. Her nickname makes my cock throb even harder, aching to bury itself inside her. Her body is starting to shake, and I want to feel her clench around me, want to feel how tight she gets when she comes like a fucking train. “I wanted a clean slate. So why the hell are you acting so dirty.”
“I’m not… the one…” She’s losing the power of speech, her eyes rolling back in her head as she gets close to the precipice. Her cheeks are flushed, her pink lips parted, quivering slightly as she tries to force words out. “You’re dirty…”
“You’re goddamn right about that, Holloway.” I slam my mouth against hers, stepping back just enough to create an inch of space between us, and then I shove her negligee up and cup her pussy, grinding the heel of my hand against her sensitized clit.
“You want to lie to me again?” I whisper challengingly, moving with deliberate slowness as I shove my hand under the waistband of her panties and slide two fingers inside her, pressing in past the first and second knuckles before hooking both fingers. “You want to tell me you don’t want this?”
For a moment, her whole body seems to give in to me, melting beneath my touch. Her brown eyes soften with want. With desire.
With need.
Then a smile tilts her lips, and she bucks her hips against me, driving my fingers even deeper inside her slick channel and making my cock harden so much I think I might pass out.
“What makes you think I don’t want this, Trent?” The word ends on a groan she can’t quite disguise. “Now are you gonna make me come, or do I have to do it myself?”
Oh, you asked for it now, Emma Holloway.
I’m not inexperienced with women, to put it mildly. I know how to get them over the finish line with a few signature moves, how to make their toes curl—and I
like doing it.
But that’s not good enough for this girl.
The girl who broke my heart in a dozen different ways, who made me love her and then lied to me? She comes when and how I say she comes.
So, no. I don’t put her out of her misery just because she learned how to throw down a taunt.
I find her g-spot, and I work it until she’s just at the edge, her pussy swollen and dripping over my hand, weeping, begging for mercy. But right before she gets there, I stop and switch back to torturing her clit, tracing unpredictable patterns with the pads of my fingers as I mirror the action with my tongue, kissing her until she’s whimpering into my mouth.
I’m not holding her against the door anymore. I don’t have to. She’s using it herself, sliding her body against the hard wood as she chases my touch, kissing me and kissing me like she’ll die if she stops.
And suddenly, I can’t wait any longer. I need to fucking feel her come undone.
“Come for me, Ems. Come on my hand and maybe I’ll let you come on my cock next. Let me feel your cream, baby.”
I follow my filthy words by pinching her clit between two fingers, pressing just hard enough to edge the line between pleasure and pain.
And she shatters.
Her whole body writhes and contorts against the door like she’s having a fucking exorcism, and I feel precum leaking from my dick, soaking through my jeans as my cock begs me to take her right now.
But I keep working her clit, gaze riveted to her face as I push her from one orgasm into another, wringing her body out like a sponge.
I want it all.
Every fucking thing she has to give.
Every breath. Every shudder. Every sound.
When she finally stops moving, her body goes so limp she almost slides down the door. I grab her hips to hold her up, loving the way I can still feel her all over my hand, the way her sweet juices smear over the pretty lavender of her negligee, turning it a darker purple.
Holding her up with one hand, I raise the other to my mouth and lick every single finger, watching her eyes dilate as they track the movement.