We call our shots as usual, but this time, I aim the ball too far to the right, letting it bounce on one of the side cups and fall on the floor.
“Oops!”
Huxley gasps. “Olivia Vandercliff! Did you do that on purpose?”
I smile mysteriously. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
Then I hook my thumbs beneath the waistband of my thong, wiggle it off and let it fall to the floor.
Huxley’s eyes light up like sparklers on the Fourth of July. “Yes!”
“Get a room, you two,” Chad mutters.
I reach down to collect my dress. But before I can grab it, Hux dives toward the floor and grabs both my thong and dress in his hands.
“Hey!” I complain. “Give those back.”
“You want them? You’re going to have to follow me.”
“Where exactly are we going, Hux? I’ll need coordinates and an ETA. I’m not going anywhere that’ll get us arrested for indecent exposure.”
He puts his hand over his heart in mock offense. “Olivia. Do you really think I’d willingly let you get in legal trouble?”
I nod. “Yes. Yes, I do. I don’t think you’d do it on purpose, but I also don’t think you’d be able to stop it when it happened.”
“Well, I wouldn’t,” he repeats. He pauses to think. “But if it’ll sweeten the deal, I think I might know another place where my brother could be.”
“Really? Where?”
Finally, my long day of playing hide and seek with my sister might be coming to an end. All I had to do was argue with Huxley, destroy the reception hall, and strip naked a million times.
But that’s a small price to pay for a happy ending, right?
Huxley gives me an evil smile. “That’s for me to know and you to find out…if you can catch me.”
He takes off running, still holding on to my thong and dress.
Oh, I’ll catch him eventually. But for the first time all day, I don’t care where we end up.
Huxley
Still holding Olivia’s thong in my hand, and not able—or willing—to get the image of her firm, perky tits out of my head, I reach the rooftop patio, walking to the edge to look out over Verona Falls.
“You really are incorrigible,” Olivia says as she steps onto the patio, slightly out of breath.
A million things that we could do together that would leave her really out of breath run through my mind. And only ninety-nine percent of those things involve sex. Instantly, my dick springs to life.
Although to be fair, from the moment Olivia and I were standing beside each other before the wedding, my dick has already been singing her praises.
“You say that like it doesn’t turn you on,” I say, turning around so my back is to the rail and I have a great view of her standing there, covering herself up with her hands. And she, I’m betting, has a great view of my growing bulge.
I hold out the thong and she lunges for it. I duck away and take a few steps toward the couches. We’re both laughing now, and as I hold it out again, she grabs for it. We both tumble onto the couch tangled in each other’s arms.
My hand brushes against bare skin. I feel Olivia lean into me, and then she yanks the thong out of my hand and moves away.
“If Theo’s not here and he’s not at Vandercliff Hall,” Olivia says, still covering herself with her hands while she holds the thong instead of putting it on, “where else could he be?”
It’s taking every ounce of my willpower not to throw her down flat on this couch and ram my cock into her. It might be the sultry summer night, but it feels like heat is radiating from us both.
“Maybe they went on their honeymoon early?” I reach over and place a hand on the back of her neck, lightly massaging her nape. She sighs, closing her eyes.
The obnoxious music from the party is thankfully just a low roar all the way up here, but the couch still vibrates every once in a while from the bass turned up too loud. Each time it does, it sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body.
“Ooh,” she moans quietly, then says after a moment, “but you can’t go on a honeymoon without a wedding.”
Her eyes are still closed, but she’s dropped her arms slightly, exposing her hard nipples to me. The sight is practically making me drool.
“Okay,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, “maybe that’s what they did. They ran off to elope.”
I continue to massage her tense neck, while, with my other hand, I run a finger up and down her arm. Watching her relax in front of my eyes is an intoxicating sight.
“My sister isn’t the eloping type. Besides, she wouldn’t skip a party that’s being thrown in her honor.” Olivia’s eyes flutter open for a second as she lets her head rest on my shoulder.
“Isn’t a wedding for both the bride and the groom?” I say, which elicits a little chuckle from Olivia. I move my hand from her arm to her leg, cupping her thigh so my thumb grazes her slit, which already feels damp.
My dick presses against my pants, threatening to bust through the seams. I remove my hand from Olivia long enough to reposition myself, and Olivia moans in protest.
With a smile, I place my hand back on her pussy.
She’s warm. And I can tell—she fucking loves it.
“Only men think that way,” she says and then bites her lower lip as my thumb continues to massage her clit while the palm of my hand presses against her pussy, lightly massaging. “Really, you don’t have any idea where your brother might take my sister?”
I pull her toward me as I begin to kiss her neck, loving the saltiness of her skin in the summer night air. “Maybe we need to be thinking about where your sister would take my brother.”
“I love my sister, but she’s more of a follower,” Olivia says. Her breath is quickening, and I see a vein pulsing in her neck.
She reaches back and grabs my shirt in her hand while she opens her legs wider to me. Her other hand clutches the couch fabric.
“And, what about you?” I ask, delivering more kisses to her neck. “Are you a leader or a follower?” I move my hand from her triangle to her tit, tweaking a nipple until she moans.
“It all depends on my partner,” Olivia says as she inhales, and then lets her breath out in a deep sigh.
She looks up at me with eyes that have turned a brilliant green, shining like a priceless emerald on display in a museum.
She swallows hard and sits up like she’s coming out of a daze. “But I think in this case, we need to focus on Theo’s hangouts,” Olivia says. “You’ve got to know where they are, right?”
She slips her toes into the leg holes of her thong and wiggles it on. Watching her, it feels like a vice just slammed down on my dick, crushing any opportunities for us to fuck here on this rooftop.
“Oh, come on,” I laugh, trying to get the night back on track. I mean, really, it’s like this couch was hand-delivered up here for fucking. “You have as good an idea of where Theo and Emma might be as I do. This is as much a game to you as it is to me.”
“What’s a game?” Olivia asks with a sharpness to her voice as she sits up straight. She’s transformed back to a buttoned-up maid of honor before my eyes.
Damn, if my dick isn’t still standing to attention for her, though.
“You want me,” I say, snapping her thong against her gorgeous hip. “And I want you. Why don't we just seal the deal already?” I ask, looking deep into Olivia’s green eyes.
My hand brushes her cheek, and I lean into Olivia as she does the same. Our lips almost touch when suddenly Olivia pushes me away, stands up, and pulls the sundress back on over her head.
“This is typical for you, isn’t it?” she asks, placing balled-up fists on her hips.
“What is?”
“To lie to me? To say whatever you need to, to get what you want? Christ, Hux. This isn’t a game to me. You’ve got no fucking idea where Theo is, do you?”
Before I can answer her or defend myself, Olivia storms off, and quickly disapp
ears from my sight.
Fuck.
Olivia
That son of a shit-snacking whore! I can’t believe I fell for this fucking scheme of his!
I’m so fucking pissed right now that I fumble trying to zip my dress up. And it’s all thanks to that fucking cunt-eating smug asshole who had us running around on a wild fucking goose chase all goddamn night.
Then, to make matters worse, I even sucked his cock! Don’t get me wrong, he has a cock the size of a fucking baseball bat, and sucking on it was easily one of the most enjoyable things I’ve ever done…but, ugh.
I don’t get how he could be so damn cavalier about his brother missing. I’ve been freaking out all day and night, and here he’s just been trying to get his dick wet.
Even for Theo and Emma—especially Emma—this is far from fucking normal. My sister may be an incredible bitch and the worst fucking bridezilla to ever walk the planet, but she’s still my sister, and I love her. And I’m worried about her.
I finally get myself dressed and give myself a quick look-over in the bathroom mirror. I look a little disheveled, but, fuck…I am.
My green eyes meet their reflection in the mirror, and—though I don’t want to—I can’t help but think of the reason I look disheveled right now; Specifically, his massive cock, again.
Sure, Hux is easy on the eyes. That guy looks like he stepped off the set of 300 with that body of his. And his green eyes are like emeralds sparkling under the sun at high noon.
At nearly six and a half feet, I could crawl all over him like a fucking jungle gym, and the thought of it has me feeling more than a little excited and lustful…which is the last thing I should be feeling right now.
But, in my defense, I’m also fucking angry. Not only with Huxley, but with myself for letting his act work on me. I know better. I’m Olivia Vandercliff, for fuck’s sake.
I need to find my sister and not let any more distractions get in my way.
The party is still in full swing when I step out of the bathroom. Everyone is dancing, drinking, and reveling in wanton debauchery. It’s like full on Animal House meets Ferris Bueller’s Day Off in here.
If Emma wasn’t missing, I’d probably be enjoying the party myself.
Everyone is packed in the living room and hanging around the front door, so slipping out the back through the kitchen will be much smoother.
Or so, I thought, anyway.
The moment I step foot into the kitchen, I feel a hand on my shoulder spin me around, and I’m greeted by the only other person on the face of the Earth that I don’t want to see more than Huxley right now—Archibald Sick the Third.
Shit. After everything with the wedding, the disaster that happened after the toast and the disappearance of the bride and groom, I totally fucking forgot.
I brought a date to that shitshow. And he doesn’t look happy about being forgotten.
“Oliva,” he says, his voice strained. “Nice to see you again.”
His speech is slurred so badly, I’m surprised he’s even sober enough to stand.
Looks like Huxley and I weren’t the only ones who needed a drink after the Wedding That Wasn’t.
I shrug his hand away from my shoulder when he reaches out to touch me. I wasn’t too keen on being touched by this dude to begin with…and now, after Huxley and my sister’s disappearance and just, everything…
“I’m not really in the mood now, Archie. Can I call you an Uber?”
“Six hours,” he says again, looking down at me with bloodshot eyes. “I spoke to your grandmother for six hours, Oliva. Just—just waiting for you to come over and talk to me.”
Aw, jeez.
“You…you didn’t have to do that, Archie.”
“No?” he says, taking another step forward. “Because I heard it all, Olivia. Every bunyon. Every fucking prescription her doctor has out for her—”
“Woah,” I say, holding my hands up. At least it keeps something between my body and his. “Dude, you didn’t have to talk to my grandmother for that long. No one was forcing you to or anything…I mean, you could have left. You know that, right?”
“I was waiting for you, Olivia. Waiting for you to come and…and fucking notice me.” He scoffs and runs his fingers through his greasy hair. “I figured if I impressed you enough with what a family man I was, an uptight little bitch like you would have to put out.”
He flashes me this smile that he probably thinks is charming and endearing, but comes off creepy. And not regular creepy; I mean full-on pedophile creepy. It’s the kind of thing that Freddy Krueger would do.
His fingers run through his blond hair again—which looks slick from far too much product—and his dark eyes undress me in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“I don’t know what you’re implying, Archie,” I lie, because yeah, I totally do. “But you need to leave. Now.”
“Or what, Olivia?”
“Or nothing, Archie. You’re trashed and you’re being a dick. Do the right thing and go sleep this off.”
He takes a drink from his red plastic cup to hide the fact that his smirk has diminished just a bit, but not enough to make it any less creepy.
“Are you sure you don’t want to make today up to me first?” he asks as his fingers try to reach for the bottom of my sundress.
I take a step back. “I don’t have anything to make up to you, Archie. You were my plus one at the world’s most disastrous wedding ever. Let’s just call it a night and we don’t have to talk about this again.”
There’s a quick flash of anger in his eyes. I’ve wounded his ego—and he’s not fucking happy about it. Especially since I’ve done it here in front of everyone…though I doubt anyone is actually listening to our conversation.
“What the fuck is your problem, Vandercliff? You and your sister have always treated me like shit. Like I’m some second-class cocksucker. When really, if anyone should be sucking cock around here…it should be a slutty little tease like you.”
He’s angrier than I thought, and that anger is sobering him up with adrenaline.
Archibald stands up straighter and puffs his chest out. The guy isn’t as tall or as muscled as Huxley is, but the guy is no slouch in the gym, either. He’s still twice the size of me and can bench press me for a joke.
But I refuse to be intimidated by someone like Archibald Sick the Third. Ever.
“That’s because you’re a shit person, Archie. You run around acting like you’re this nice, sweet, mild mannered guy…and then you pull shit like this where you prove that you’re anything but. You’re acting like a fucking cock.”
Archie finishes the rest of whatever is in his cup with one big gulp, and then throws the empty cup to the floor.
“You want to see a ‘fucking cock,’ well, I’ll show you a fucking cock. And you’re going to get on your fucking knees, and you’re going to like it whether you want to or not, you mouthy cunt.”
Faster than I expected, Archie reaches out and grabs my shoulders. He tries to forcefully pull me toward him and lift me up over his shoulder, but I’m not having any of it. I step in toward him, putting my hands on his shoulders, and I drive my knee into his balls.
The loud groan and whimper that he lets out is like music to my ears, and everyone around us is now paying attention to the scene unfolding. Nearly all of the men are instinctively covering their own balls—as if they can feel Archie’s pain themselves just by looking at him hunched over.
“Your first mistake was putting your hands on me. I’m not some chick you’ve roofied to get laid. I’m Olivia fucking Vandercliff, got that? And, secondly, if you ever so much as look at me funny again, I’m going to take that shriveled Raisinette bag between your legs and pull it up over your head. Now get the fuck out of my face, you limp dick-fuck.”
Everyone in the kitchen begins clapping and cheering as Archie reels around to leave the scene, only, he doesn’t get very far.
When Archie bumps into Huxley, I smirk in delight as I know what’s
coming next.
Huxley might be a weasel, but I’ve never known him to pass up a good fight when he has the chance to get into one.
With a balled-up fist, Huxley pulls back and hits Archie so fucking hard that he breaks the douchebag’s jaw—and knocks a couple of teeth out.
And—though it shouldn’t—it makes me want him. Again.
Well, fuck me sideways, Huxley Athens.
He’s back in the game.
Huxley
There’s a beautiful second where the dumb asshole doesn’t instantly react.
As I pull my hand back and shake away the throbbing pain, it’s like watching a Looney Tunes sketch. Olivia’s wedding date’s eyes stare unfocused into space, and blood drips from his mouth from where I knocked a tooth or two loose.
Then he collapses.
As his face hits the floor—and he narrowly misses impaling himself on his own teeth, too—there’s another moment of silence before a cheer erupts.
The whole party seems to celebrate for a second, and then, as is usual with parties, everyone goes back to minding their own business.
I step over Archibald Sick the Third’s body and toward Olivia. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if she hated me right now for stealing her thunder—after all, she did just knee him in the balls and make a statement about how she was Olivia fucking Vandercliff.
But no, she’s looking it me with those “fuck me” eyes.
My dick has only just recovered from how hard I was up on the roof, and I would bet that she’s still wet for me.
I look at her and smirk a little bit, but as I step closer, I let the cocky grin fall off my face. Now isn’t the time—if she didn’t want it five minutes ago, or at least, she said she didn’t—then her opinion isn’t going to have changed just because we tag-teamed a douchebag.
Even if it had changed, it wouldn’t be right.
Olivia was so angry and hurt when she thought that I was just using her this whole time to try and get my dick wet. It’s not true—but I had gotten lost in the game a little bit, and I’d forgotten why I was even helping her in the first place.
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