by Cassie Wild
“Say it,” I told her. “Tell me you want to come.”
“I want to come.”
I pictured her on her knees, hands bound behind her back and saying those very same words.
Soon, I told myself. Soon.
I started to push inside, feeling the wet heat of her pussy kissing the head of my cock.
A door crashed open behind me and in that instant, I realized just how stupid it was to get so fogged by lust that I stopped thinking.
I moved fast, spinning around to shield Daria’s body with mine, jerking my pants up in quick order.
Two people stood there gaping at us.
I only vaguely recognized the woman, a curvy blonde with curls that framed her pretty face. Lucky, I thought her name was. She clung to the man at her side and Marcos Castellanos eyed me narrowly, then looked past me.
I shifted again, careful to keep him from seeing Daria.
She squirmed behind me and I heard a low moan escape her as she realized what had happened.
Marcos smirked and wrapped an arm around Lucky’s shoulders. “I think we need to find another room, Lucky.”
She darted another look at my face then nodded, smiling up at Marcos with hungry eyes.
As they left, I took a deep, steadying breath, then turned to face Daria.
She had slipped off the desk and was busily smoothing her dress down.
“Daria …”
She shook her head, a wild glint in her eyes.
I took a step toward her and she flinched.
It was enough to keep me where I was.
“It’s okay,” I told her. “They didn’t see you.”
I don’t know if she heard me or not.
I reached out a hand to touch her. Why hadn’t I locked the fucking door?
She cringed away from my touch and I lowered my hand to my side, clenching into a fist.
Her eyes were wide and bewildered and I recalled the champagne she’d been tossing back like a champ.
Fuck! Had she been completely wasted?
I didn’t know, but the idea settled badly with me. She hadn’t acted drunk, but not everybody did.
“It’s okay,” I said again. “They’re gone and they didn’t see you.”
She wouldn’t look at me and I ground my teeth together as she cut around me.
I wasn’t sure what she was going to do, but when she rushed for the door, I was startled enough that I didn’t move in time to catch her. On my way out of the room, I swiped the silky panties from the floor.
I caught sight of her just as she turned the corner that led back outside.
Shit.
I moved faster.
But I never had the chance to catch up with her.
My sister Briar appeared practically from nowhere the second I got outside and she reached out, grabbing my arm.
“I need your help,” she said, panic in her voice.
“I …” Lifting my head, I studied the people around us. In my fist, I held Daria’s panties but I couldn’t see her. She was already gone. With a silent curse, I shoved her panties into my pocket.
I blew out a tired breath and looked back at my sister. “What is it?”
“Danika is here.”
It took a few seconds for what she’d said to really click. Danika …
Once my brain kicked back into gear, I spun away, swearing.
I shoved a hand through my hair.
Briar moved around until she could once more meet my gaze. “Can you try to make her leave? Preferably before Dad knows that she’s here?”
“Where is she?” asked wearily.
Danika was involved with my brother, Declan—sort of. They had a friends-with-benefits sort of relationship, but lately she’d been pushing for more. I don’t know why Declan hadn’t just ended things, but he hadn’t.
Save for Declan, nobody in the family liked her. She flirted with everybody—and I meant everybody, from Briar to my father to the man mixing her drinks at whatever bar she’d decided to hit for the night. It wasn’t so much the flirting that was the problem, though. It was the impression she gave off that she’d be happy to take it to the next level if she felt it was worth her while.
Declan deserved better.
“She’s still at the front door. I was seeing a friend off when I saw her and I thought it would be better if we handled it rather than the Castellanos’ security people, so they are letting her wait there—she thinks I went to get Declan.”
I wish she would have. Then I could have gone after Daria.
Instead, I went to deal with Danika.
Eleven
Daria
I had to get away from the party.
If I didn’t, I thought I’d get sick. Or worse, I’d grab another glass of champagne. I’d already had enough to do something stupid. I didn’t need to make matters worse.
I’d already downed another glass, liberating it from a passing server as I went to hide in the crowd. It hadn’t taken me long to realize that I needed to get out of there.
I was lightheaded and had to move slowly to keep from staggering away from the party.
I didn’t want to be around anybody just then.
What if Brooks found me?
Could I even look at him?
No. No, I wasn’t sure I could.
He’d followed me out of the house, but I don’t think he kept looking for me once we got outside.
But if I stayed at the reception, it was entirely possible the two of us would bump into each other again.
So the logical thing to do was leave the party.
I had no idea where I was. As the sounds of the party grew fainter, I followed the maze of hedges and hidden gardens around the building. I breathed a little easier once I got some distance between me and everybody else. I walked along cobblestones that wound through a garden, the darkness only slightly relieved by well-placed landscaping lights. It was pretty clear they wanted people to remain at the party.
But I couldn’t just then.
I didn’t want to go up to my room, though. If I did that, it would be too easy to think about what had just happened.
As it was, I was having a hard time not thinking about it anyway, even though I needed to keep my focus on the dimly lit path in front of me so I didn’t end up tripping. I was wobbling just a little and knew it wouldn’t take much to send me hurtling to the cobblestones under me.
“That would just be perfect,” I muttered to myself sourly. A perfect end to cap off what was already proving to be one of the most humiliating nights of my life.
I shouldn’t have run from Brooks the way I had. That had only made it worse.
Neither of the intruders had seen me, or so Brooks said. I could believe that, because I hadn’t seen them either. Of course, I’d been mostly busy cringing behind the broad wall of his back.
What had I been thinking?
Why had I been flirting with Brooks? Really, though, could I call what had happened between us flirting? It was more like I’d just outright propositioned him.
Asking some guy I didn’t even know if we could go somewhere and be alone.
I’d lost my mind.
I finally reached a small alcove and sank gratefully down onto the small stone bench there.
The scent of flowers permeated the air and in the dim light, I could make out the flowerbeds not too far away. I recognized where I was—the east gardens. Isabel had shown me around the estate and we’d only been out here a few minutes before she dragged me off to show me more of her home. But I remembered this spot. It was … peaceful.
Now that I was no longer trying to run away from what had happened, I found my face heating.
The way his hands had felt on me … I couldn’t even describe it. Nothing had ever felt like that before, not even when I got lost in the dance at school. Dancing was the only time I felt really free, but the high I got off dancing was nothing like this high.
I could still feel the spasms shivering through me, like
he was still there, still touching me, his fingers deep inside my body, his thumb circling around my clitoris.
Want panged deep in my belly and I breathed out slowly before taking another deeper breath. My heart was racing.
I was wet.
I could feel it and instinctively I clamped my thighs together. That only made the aching there intensify and, abruptly, I realized I’d left my panties on the floor of the office where Brooks had touched me.
“Oh, man,” I whispered, my face raging with embarrassment even more.
Could I find my way back in there and grab them before somebody else saw them?
I had no idea.
I froze in terror and indecision and buried my face in my hands, willing my brain to go blank.
It wouldn’t.
I kept feeling his hands on me, stripping those panties away, then the rough rasp of his fingers as he slid them inside me.
My breathing grew shallow as I relived the entire thing; my belly clenched and tightened and I felt empty inside, painfully empty. I wanted to pull my skirt up and touch myself, do something to ease that ache.
I didn’t dare, though.
I panted, my breath coming harder and faster as the memory swelled, sure to overtake me completely.
It wasn’t until I heard voices that I realized I’d been sliding my hands up and down my thighs, stoking the heat that had been building inside me.
Now, horrified, I jerked my hands away and clenched them, peering off into the dark and trying to place the sound of the voices I’d just heard.
A woman …
My heart hitched a beat as I heard a familiar male voice responding. Heat flooded my face, all but scalding me. It was Brooks.
I told myself to walk away.
I could go back to the party and make my good-byes, then go to my room and hide away until the sting of embarrassment faded. Even if I was stuck in that pretty room for the rest of my natural life, or until the Castellanos kicked me out.
I stood. Off to my left, I could hear the distant sounds of the party.
To my right, Brooks was talking to a woman.
Go back to the party, I told myself.
But I went to my right, moving slowly as I approached the couple I could hear talking. I rounded a bend in the path.
A hedge obscured my gaze, but I could see faint flecks of color just beyond.
Brooks spoke—I didn’t really hear his words but I recognized the voice.
The woman’s voice came through. Oddly enough, I had no trouble understanding what she said.
“Oh, come on, honey …help me out,” she said, her voice low and husky.
Honey?
I told myself it didn’t mean anything. I had a friend at the school who called everybody honey.
But I didn’t believe it. I moved closer until I could peer through the branches of the hedge.
It was, indeed, Brooks and he stood with his arms crossed over his chest while a woman with darkish hair gazed up at him.
She reached out to touch his chest, her lips parting.
My blood roared in my ears.
I couldn’t make out her words this time.
Walk away …
But it was too late. She swayed closer to Brooks and despite the way my head whirled around on my shoulders, I had no trouble focusing on her as she lifted her head to his, the way she slid her hands up his chest, the way she curled them around his shoulders.
She kissed him.
Brooks stood there.
He just … stood there.
Moments earlier, he’d been touching me so intimately and now he was standing here in a liplock with some other woman.
I spun around, overbalancing. In a moment of sheer desperation, I kicked my heels off and started to run.
I had to get away before he heard me. I had to get away …
I don’t know how long I ran, or even where I ran to. I needed to stay away from people, from the lights. I wound deeper and deeper into the gardens.
I stopped running after I almost tripped over an uneven break in the path.
Panting hard, I covered my face.
Immediately, I lowered them, because the second I wasn’t looking at something, I was seeing what had just happened.
Brooks and that woman … who was she?
Brooks standing there as she pressed her mouth to his.
My belly rebelled at that moment and I bent over, unable to hold it back another second.
I emptied my stomach onto the carefully landscaped bed, a rosebush prickling my arm as I struggled to keep my balance.
Champagne and what little I’d eaten came burning up my throat and I heaved again.
Every time I thought I was done, my mind locked in on that memory. Brooks and the woman, their mouths touching.
Brooks, standing between my thighs and ordering me to tell him … I want to come …
Moaning in between heaves, I squeezed my eyes closed.
That just made my head spin even faster and even though there was nothing left in my belly, I heaved and wretched until my face was hot and my head pounded like it might explode.
My legs were trembling when my belly finally calmed and I straightened slowly.
I shot a desperate look around and breathed just a little easier when I saw that I was still alone.
I couldn’t even hear the party now, although off to my left, there was a faint lightening of the darkness of night—the lights from the party, I assumed.
The party.
Humiliation rose inside me as I thought about how drunk I must have been to stumble off like that, then getting sick in the garden.
That’s all it was, I told myself. I drank too much and ate too little. It has nothing to do with Brooks.
Maybe I knew I lied, but I chose to believe that lie because it was easier.
On still shaky legs, I started forward.
Rough cobblestones scraped against my bare feet and I looked down, wondering where my shoes had gone.
I had some vague recollection of kicking them off, but it was … very vague.
I had no idea where to look for them and the pounding in my head convinced me that I didn’t need to worry about it.
I just needed to … get away.
Twelve
Daria
Something woke me.
I had no idea what it was.
My eyes seared with pain when I tried to open them and I moaned, weakly throwing my forearm over my face to block out that horrible light that had set them on fire.
Even that small movement hurt and I rolled onto my belly, gingerly shoving my head face under the pillow in effort to escape to the darkness again.
The pillow helped a little, but once I figured out the tiny slivers of glass trying to gouge my eyes out came from the lamp on the table someone had cruelly left burning, I grew aware of the pounding in my head.
I moaned again, afraid to move for fear my head might shatter.
Eventually, the pressure in my bladder and the foul taste in my mouth had me easing the pillow down.
I had no idea where I was.
The last thing I remembered was vomiting somewhere.
And before that …
I cringed, recalling the sight of Brooks kissing some woman.
I didn’t remember much of what happened after I got sick, not right away, but as I eased myself up and looked around, I realized I was in my room.
I was still wearing my dress from the wedding, too.
It was dark, save for the small lamp that really wasn’t putting off that much light. I guess I was the one who’d left it on when I poured myself into bed.
Outside, the night was still a velvety cloak of darkness. My window faced out over the back garden and I couldn’t see any movement. The bright lights that had ignited the party space were extinguished.
I had no idea how late it was.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
My memory slowly pieced itself back together and bit by bit,
I was able to form a picture of what had happened after I’d gone hurtling into the night, desperate to escape the misery of seeing Brooks kiss another woman.
Now that my head was no longer fogged by alcohol, I realized I’d misjudged what I’d seen the night before.
Brooks hadn’t been kissing the woman. He’d stood there, arms still crossed over his chest as she pressed herself against him and kissed him.
He hadn’t so much as dipped his head to make it easier for her.
For some reason, this knowledge made me feel increasingly better and I found myself recalling those stolen minutes in that office before we’d been interrupted.
The way his hands felt against me … the way his fingers rasped over swollen, wet tissues.
I wanted more.
So much more.
I cleared my throat and the taste in my mouth made me screw up my face. Before I did anything, I needed to get into the bathroom.
Once there, I felt along inside the wall until I hit the middle switch. I turned it on and immediately, a soft light filled the room.
I shuffled to the toilet, fighting with the zipper of my dress as I went. I finally freed myself of it, leaving the dress in a crumpled pile of silk on the floor as I took care of basic needs.
That done, I washed my hands, then set about brushing my teeth to rid myself of that nasty taste that lingered on my tongue.
I still didn’t feel entirely human, so I shuffled over to the shower and turned on the spray. As it heated, I shimmied out of my bra. I had only a fleeting thought about my panties—still missing—and I shoved the thought out of my head.
I couldn’t think about my underwear lying on the floor of an office somewhere in this big, luxurious house.
But even as I tried to block it out, the memory swam up from the depths of my memory.
While much of what had happened shortly before I woke up was blurry and vague, I had no issues recalling what had happened in that room with Brooks.
His hands on my body. His tongue in my mouth.
I shivered and ducked into the shower. Maybe I could scrub the memory of his touch away.
Long moments passed as I tried to do just that. But nothing could match those moments as he slid his hands over me, thrust his fingers inside me. I’d climaxed before, on my own, but what Brooks had done seemed to make the word climax inadequate.