by Thorne, Leia
“How do you trust someone with such a notorious reputation?” she wonders aloud.
“You don’t,” I answer simply. “You trust yourself.” I hop off the bed. “I know what you need.” I disappear from my room and head to the wet bar. Ever since her divorce, my mother keeps a stash of liquor all over the house.
I reenter holding a bottle of vodka and shot glass. “A little courage?”
She laughs, but it comes across as forced. “I don’t think so.”
“All right,” I say, setting the glass on my dresser and pouring a shot for myself. “I need it, though. Watching Palmer and Emry slather each other with lovey mush tonight always makes me need something stiff.” I give her a wink, and she smiles demurely.
I down the shot, feeling the burn hit the back of my throat with satisfaction. “If you were someone else, more brave, bold, with no reservations… How would you handle Gage tonight?”
She sits up as I pour another shot. I hand it to her anyway, and she takes it absentmindedly as she considers my question. “Let’s see… Strip tease? I’ve always wanted to drive a guy crazy. Just make him beg for it.” She laughs at herself, then tips back the shot. “God, I sound stupid.”
“You don’t sound stupid.” I bring the bottle with me and settle next to her on the bed. “That is fun. You shouldn’t feel ashamed for wanting to have fun. But, I hate to say it, just about every girl at Brighton has either offered or actually done a strip tease for Gage Astor. You have to think bigger.”
“Oh, my god. What am I getting myself into?” She shakes her head, and I offer her another shot of vodka. She throws it back like a pro, making me question her whole innocent act. Is it an act? As she becomes more relaxed, she admits, “I have no idea what I’m doing. This is uncharted territory for me.”
“And that’s exactly why he’s interested in you,” I say, encouraging her. “Guys like Gage, who can have whatever they want, whenever they want…they need a challenge. You’re a welcome change to the tired ways of Crescent Valley.”
“Is that why you befriended me?” she asks meekly.
“Do you want the truth?”
She nods in affirmation.
“Yes.” I swig half a shot of vodka and then set the glass aside. “At first, yes. But then I got to know you, and now I can’t imagine us not being friends.”
“That is so…mushy.” Her sudden laugh is infectious, prompting me to join in. “But thank you. Me, too.”
I shrug, unapologetic. “Listen, we have rules around here, Remi. We all know them, we all play by them, and it gets boring. You’re this new and shiny thing that doesn’t know any better.” I smile deviously. “We could have fun with that.” I lean in closer to her. “Do you trust me?”
Her mouth parts, but she doesn’t answer right away.
“Wow…” I feign an afflicted expression.
“No, it’s not that… It’s not about my trust in others.” She sighs, dramatic. “I don’t trust myself.”
And here is the moment, the unveiling of the unvarnished truth. I can either reject her confession, or embrace it. Use it. It’s leverage.
“I’m sorry,” I say, “for whatever happened to make you believe that. But I trust you. And you can trust me, and Gage. We’re not like others here. We value trust.”
I see it in her eyes the second it clicks. Gage must have worked his trust angle with her already. It’s what we used to connive Palmer, and Emry. And Lesley. Rush was onboard the moment he heard secret and sex in the same sentence.
Her eyes seek mine. “All right. I want to…to be able to trust.”
“Now,” I say, pushing the hem of my nighty down and reclining back. “To the fun stuff. What does your wild side want to do to Gage? Torment him a little. Make him suffer. He deserves it for whatever he did tonight to put you in a funk.”
Step 1: Make her believe this is her idea.
She has to be the one to convince herself this is what she wants.
She bites her lip, then glances at the window, and then to the Mac screen across my room. “Does Gage Skype?”
“Oh, you’re bad,” I tease. Then I bound off the bed to turn on the computer.
She holds up her hands. “I didn’t mean it like that…”
“Why not like that?” I swivel the screen so the camera is angled toward the bed. “It’s safe. No psychical contact. It can only go as far as you want it to go.”
An unsure expression pulls at her features, but she grabs the vodka and nods, motivating herself. A second where there’s a glimpse of doubt, then she swigs right from the expensive glass bottle.
I pull up the Skype app and ring Gage.
“You’re doing it now?” Remi asks.
I shrug as Gage’s face appears on the Skype screen. “He’s all yours.”
“I get a close-up of the pillow fight in action?” Gage says, wearing his signature smirk. The screen flickers as he tweaks the angle on his end, then steps back, taking a seat in his leather recliner.
“Funny,” I say, and finish adjusting the screen. Gage has changed out of his jeans, and is now sporting black-and-blue boxers and a white T-shirt. “Did we interrupt you?”
“That depends,” he says, bracing his hands behind his head on the chair back. “I was going to watch porn, deal with the blue balls Remi left me with, but…”
I roll my eyes. “You’re absolutely shameless.” I glance at Remi, who’s skirting the edge of my room. “Don’t you want to punish him for being so crude?”
She tucks her hair behind her ear. A nervous habit of hers I’ve picked up on.
“She’s not into me,” Gage says. I can hear the playful note in his voice, but I’m not sure if Remi does. “That’s okay, Saw. I can lick my wounds in private.”
He goes to click out of the app, and Remi steps forward. “Wait. Gage. You can’t seriously be upset.”
He relaxes back, having gained her attention. “Why not? Because I’m a heartless bastard? Thanks.”
I wave her over, and Remi sits on the edge of the bed. “I don’t think that,” she says.
“Then what do you think about me?” He probes.
“I think you’re used to getting your way,” she fires back.
“Ooh. She has you nailed on that one,” I say.
He smiles mockingly. Adjusts his glasses. “Then show me just what I won’t be getting.”
Remi looks at me, and I raise an eyebrow in challenge. Ball is in her court. Either she’s willing to shed those layers and let us in, or she’s not meant to be one of us.
How badly does she crave acceptance?
It’s different for everyone. Being a part of an elite group gives you status, identity. The power to obtain all that you desire. But for Remi, from what I’ve discerned from her so far, it’s far more than that—she longs for forgiveness.
For what, I’m not sure yet. Gage is the one with the answers, and he always holds those close to the vest. His diabolical brand of control. But I don’t need a peek into her past to see that she’s ashamed of some action, seeking a connection with others who won’t judge, who won’t torture her with the reminder of that life.
She wears that truth inked on her skin.
And that makes her the most vulnerable of all.
Remi stands and, with a guarded breath, unclasps her jeans. She shimmies them down her legs, swaying a bit from the alcohol. She’s not inebriated; just tipsy enough to be daring.
Gage assesses her silently, his finger resting over his mouth. Then: “That’s a start”—he shifts closer to the screen—“but I would’ve removed your top first. I’m a gentleman like that.”
Remi crosses her arms and grabs the hem of her shirt. She pulls it over her head, tossing it to the floor. She stands in the middle of my room in just her baby-blue bralette and lace panties. A matching set. I smirk at that. A virgin with no expectations doesn’t wear their cute panty set to a football game with the school player.
“Turn in a circle,” Gage instructs. “I w
ant to see all of you.”
Remi obliges, then stops halfway, facing him. “Your turn. Show me what I missed out on, Gage.”
His smile tips into a slanted grin. He reaches behind his back and yanks the collar of his shirt, removing it with practiced ease. Then he stands and models his well-defined torso for Remi. Gage isn’t massively built like Rush. He’s all chiseled angles and smooth flesh and tight definition, like a Greek god.
Remi’s face flushes, either from the vodka or Gage’s sinfully sexy body, I’m not sure. Probably a mix of both.
Gage takes his seat again and removes his glasses. “Sit on the bed.”
Remi steps backward, her thighs hitting the edge, and slides onto the foot of the bed. “So what now, Gage Astor? Once you had me partially naked, what would you have done to me?”
“Oh… Very bad things, Remi. The things I’d like to do to your beautiful body might scare you.”
And it does. Gage is a force. The impact of his words causes Remi to rub the chill from her arms, and she looks away. I send Gage a glare to tone it down as I step beside her. “You know what’s even hotter. Let me be the proxy. I’ll be his hands.”
This makes her eyes go wide, but I whisper, “Trust me.”
I’m the one who she can depend on—to help her. So she doesn’t have to dread or fear the unknown. That’s my role. And when she realizes that she doesn’t have to be the only one in the spotlight, her tense expression relaxes some.
I slip behind her and inch up my nighty, placing my thighs on either side of hers. Skin to skin. Hers is soft and warm, and she shivers as I rest my hand on her leg. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “Torturous fun, remember? Let’s make him suffer.”
From over her shoulder, I look at Gage on the screen. Even though the cams feel one-off, like you can’t quite make eye contact through the screen, I can sense Gage’s eyes on me, waiting for my cue. He wants to be the one to take control, but he knows he’ll spook her if he comes on too strong.
I’m not sure if my asserting control excites him or infuriates him. Probably a mix both there, too.
I smile smugly as I rest my chin on Remi’s shoulder. “Dare him,” I say, urging her to find her own words. She needs to build confidence in herself.
I feel her forced swallow before she says, “I dare you to scare me, Gage. Show me your bad things.”
Damn. I hope it’s not just the alcohol talking. That was impressive.
Gage clears his throat, acting the part. “This should be interesting,” he says. Then, with a devious smile, he tugs the legs of his boxers down, getting comfortable. “After I got your clothes off, I’d tell you to close your eyes; let your senses take over.”
I reach up and lightly brush my palm over Remi’s eyes, helping her block out distractions and allowing her sensory receptors to take over.
“Then I’d graze my fingertips up your thighs,” he says, “reverently touching, exploring, learning your body. Indulging myself in your soft, inviting flesh.”
At his sensual words, I want to shut my eyes—stop him from seeing just how much those words affect me. But I force my hand to move along Remi’s leg, trailing my fingertips up her inner thigh, covetous that it’s not my body I’m touching at his command.
Gage watches as my fingers near the apex of her thighs. “Then I’d want to see just how wet I can make you,” he says. “Feel you drench those little blue panties. Spread your legs wide, as if I’m seated right between them.”
As I grip Remi’s thigh and guide he legs apart, she shivers against me, her breaths becoming ragged. “Relax against me,” I urge.
Her muscles slacken, and she lets her body mold against mine. I ease my hand up her thigh and softly caress her mound over her panties, feeling her clit peeking against the thin material. I use her breathing as a guide and, from this angle behind her, I touch her the way I’d touch myself.
I can feel her heat against my palm, getting hotter as I massage and knead her, loosening her up. Then I flick a glance at Gage. “Ask him what he’d do next,” I instruct her.
She licks her lips. “What would you do to me now?” she asks, her words breathy.
“I’d rub those beautiful tits,” he says.
I use my left hand to cup her breast, touching her tenderly, then push the fabric down to reveal her nipple so I can tweak it.
A dark groan escapes Gage. “I’d put my mouth right there,” he says. “Use my tongue to flick your nipple while I pinch your clit.”
I pop my finger into my mouth, swirling my tongue around my fingertip so Gage can see, before I start rubbing her nipple again. I cup her pussy and use the slats of my fingers to squeeze her clit slightly. I feel her grow wet and hot against my hand.
“Fuck,” Gage says. “Open your eyes. See what you’re doing to me, Remi.”
When she does, Gage pushes his cock through the opening of his boxers and grips his thick shaft. Remi’s stomach muscles flinch against my arm at the sight, her core clenching tight.
I nod deliberately to Gage, and he strokes himself, thrusting his hips upward a bit, and the sight is so erotic I ache deep inside as I work Remi’s clit harder.
“I’d push your panties aside,” Gage says, “slip my finger between your lips to feel how wet you are.”
“Touch your breasts,” I tell her, as I slide the crotch of her panties over.
In the zone now, she goes with it, fondling her breast on command as I dip my finger along her slit. She’s wet to the touch. I go one step further and spread her lips apart, giving Gage a clear view of her pussy, and he bites his lip.
“That’s it,” he urges, “let me see all of you.” His rhythm speeds as he strokes himself, and Remi’s breathing intensifies. “I want to feel just how tight you are. One finger, nice and slow.”
I use my middle finger and push inside, and her thighs flex against my hand. I massage the bundle of nerves with my fingertip, applying light pressure, listening to her breathing ramp.
“Ah fuck,” Gage curses, as he squeezes his cock. “I want to be inside you. I want to hear your soft little pants and moans. You’re driving me crazy, Remi, I need to fuck you so bad.”
I ease in a second finger, and her whole body responds, pushing against my hand as I use the heel of my palm to rub her clit, applying just enough friction to make her squirm.
“Can I make you come, Remi?” Gage asks. “I want to hear you come so hard…”
She nods, but doesn’t respond, her voice lost.
“Say it?” Gage demands. “Tell me to fuck you.”
Her back arches at his dirty words. “Fuck me, Gage.”
He groans and thrusts his dick hard through his fisted hand, giving it a fast pump, the tip gleaming with precome. “God, I want to fuck that tight pussy. I want to be the one to break that cherry.”
My hand stills, and I send him a harsh glare. We didn’t set any rules, but he knows that’s bordering too close to the line. I raise an eyebrow as Gage smiles, knowing exactly what he did.
“Don’t stop,” Gage demands.
I start up again, and Remi’s hips rock against the bed. As I finger her harder, faster, she moves in sync, grinding her clit desperately against my hand. Her core contracts, tightening around me, and I sense her building closer.
His words, but my body. Gage is watching me as he pumps his cock and eases his ass off the chair. His face contorts with the need to release, his features strained…and a violent groan escapes as he comes hard.
The sight is erotic and hot, I can’t help but press my pelvis against Remi to offset some of the ache.
Remi shudders and grasps my thigh as her body tightens. “Oh, my god,” she breathes. Her core muscles clench around my fingers so tightly she almost pushes me out. I press hard against the bundle of nerves, and she shatters against me. Her body undulates and rocks until she falls back against me, and she bites her lip to stifle the sound of her moan.
I brush her hair back off her forehead, letting her come down.
“Damn,” Gage says, wiping himself off, “that was so fucking hot.”
I remove my fingers and wipe them off on the blanket. I agree with him; I was impressed she actually got off. But now it’s time for him to go.
Remi rights her bra and tucks her knees up, locking her arms around her legs. She glances between the Mac screen and me. “That was… I think I need another shot.”
I laugh. “On it.”
“I could be there in one minute,” Gage says. “Drinking alone isn’t wise.” He grins.
“We’re not alone,” I say, making a detour to the computer. “Bye, Gage. Thanks for the show.”
“Wait—” he says, as I exit out of the program, killing the feed. I click the screen off, and turn to Remi.
“He can feel used for a night,” I say, snagging the vodka from the dresser. “I’m sure it won’t bruise his ego too much.”
Remi laughs. “Palmer was right. You are the sex Yoda.”
I’m glad she’s not suddenly shy and regretful over what just happened. I shrug. “I told you,” I say. “There’s no reason why you can’t have fun and be a virgin. And make Gage suffer just a little.”
She smiles, then looks down at her knees. “That was my first…” She trails off. “Never mind.”
“Orgasm?” I offer.
She nods, playing with a strand of her hair. “Should I be mortified right now?”
I pour a shot and hand it to her. “Only if that’s a part of your process. But I don’t see the point. Why feel bad about doing something that makes you feel good?”
She swigs the vodka, then passes the shot glass to me, her thoughts heavy. “I don’t want to feel bad,” she says.
“Then don’t.” I touch her hair, offering a tight smile. “Don’t ever let anyone make you feel bad for doing what you want to do.”
She nods in acceptance.
“Okay,” I say, taking the space beside her, “now tell me what Gage did tonight to warrant his punishment.”
As she talks, she opens up to me more than ever before.
She’s perfect. She’s pliable, teachable. She’s even more open than Palmer was at first, and I couldn’t be more proud with how she tuned out.