by Sam Mariano
“No. I don’t think so. I don’t even think it was necessary to stop working at the diner, it’s just something Hunter insisted on out of an abundance of caution.”
Mom is still frowning, so I keep talking.
“It’s not a jealousy thing,” I rush to assure her. “It is a safety thing, but Sherlock’s not dangerous. I mean, not really. It’s hard to explain. He’s slippery. I don’t know what it is about him, but he’ll have you doing things you’d never ordinarily do before you even realize it’s happening. He’s just… he’s tricky, and persuasive, and… when you’re with him, everything seems fine until it isn’t—then all of a sudden you’re in trouble, but you don’t even really know how you got there...”
Since I’m struggling with how to explain Sherlock, Mom interrupts. “I think I get it.” Her smile is a little pained, but she tries. “Hunter might be onto something. And you know what? I need to learn to butt out a little bit. You’re growing up, it’s up to you what you want your relationship with Hunter to look like. As long as you’re comfortable with it, you have my full support.”
Her words fill me with relief. “Thanks, Mom.”
This time when she smiles, it’s a little bittersweet, but no longer pained. “Anytime, kiddo.”
Chapter Fifty Nine
Riley
Before I know it, it’s Friday, and the week appears to be coming to a peaceful end.
Since Hunter has claimed my Friday nights for the foreseeable future, I pack a small bag and prepare for another relaxing, romantic night with him. I figure we’ll make dinner together, maybe dance in his kitchen while dinner cooks. Afterward, maybe we’ll watch a movie, or go to bed early and keep each other up half the night.
All of my lovely Friday night visions come to a crashing halt when Hunter informs me he’s having a party. A small one, he assures me, but he wants to have one last get-together while it’s still warm enough for a bonfire.
I don’t enjoy spending time with his friends, but since Valerie won’t be there, I suck it up.
One party won’t kill me.
Well, the last one nearly did, but I’m sure this one will be fine.
Until he tells me Sherlock is coming.
On one hand, I’m glad Hunter isn’t holding a grudge and they’re still friendly. I wouldn’t like to live in a world where they were enemies.
On the other hand… well, last time I was with both of them at a party, it was a pretty weird night for me.
I tell myself there’s no reason to be anxious about this one. I’m Hunter’s now, so he has no reason to act like a jealous idiot, and Sherlock has no reason to cause trouble.
I’m still a little worried about it.
When the dreaded night finally arrives, it’s weird for a lot of reasons.
First, Sara shows up with Wally.
Hunter’s other friends wander in, all of them as friendly toward me as the night of homecoming—even stupid Melina Eggers, who glared at me last time I had my back turned to her.
Maybe she doesn’t hate me anymore now that I’m officially with Hunter. If rumors are to be believed, for a minute, she saw me as a rival for Sherlock’s affection—although I’m not sure he actually has any for her.
He doesn’t come to the party with her. He comes alone.
I’m sitting on the couch with Sara as he strolls past. Even though he doesn’t so much as look our way, our conversation dies abruptly and we both watch him saunter into the next room.
Once he’s gone, Sara looks over at me and whispers, “I never did get the sordid details about all that.”
I smile faintly, but demure. “No sordid details to share.”
“He blew up a car for you,” she says, cocking an eyebrow in disbelief. “That’s not exactly a small thing.”
“He didn’t blow it up for me, he just doesn’t like Valerie. He has good taste like that,” I remark.
“I don’t believe you,” Sara says. “Something happened between you two.”
I shake my head, but talking about all this makes my stomach rock, so I latch onto another topic and veer away from this one.
___
As it starts to get dark, the party mostly relocates outside. Some people linger inside for privacy or to continue whatever interactions they were already wrapped up in, but most of us head out back.
Hunter has a fire pit, so he builds a big bonfire to provide a little light and warmth as it gets colder.
Plus, bonfires are just fun to watch. Everyone agrees at first, but it doesn’t take long for everyone to wander off into their natural social groups, which I am not part of.
I don’t move away from the fire, so eventually, I get it all to myself.
Hunter didn’t abandon me, but he is drinking, and when he’s not being a jealous caveman, alcohol makes him even more sociable than he is naturally. He’s goofing off with his friends and being adorable.
I’m happy to hang back and watch him do his thing, but I’ve only had a single drink, so I’m not ready to join in.
Honestly, I don’t think there’s enough alcohol in the world to make me want to join in.
It’s okay, though. I like watching the fire alone. It’s peaceful.
As it gets later, the temperature drops.
Hunter grabbed me a navy blue hoodie from his room to wear, but as I sit on one of the chairs set up around the bonfire and play with the white drawstrings, I’m still a little cold.
Even though it means sitting on the ground instead of one of the chairs, I move closer to the fire, craving the heat.
Ah, much better.
Contentment washes over me as I watch the flames incinerate the wood, turning the once formidable timber into little more than ash.
While watching the flames dance, I become aware of someone walking toward me from the other side of the bonfire. Since I’m sitting on the ground now, I have to look between the flames. They cast a foreboding image, like the man is walking right through them.
I’m not surprised when Sherlock squats down on the other side and tosses some wood on the fire. Sparks fly and the flames jump as if summoned by their master.
I pull my legs back away from it, not wanting to get singed by burning wood.
Sherlock doesn’t budge. He’s not afraid of the fire.
Clearly.
He’s entrancing enough without the warm glow of the fire bathing his handsome features with menace, but as he gazes at me across the flames looking like the worst mistake someone’s ever going to make in their life, I can’t resist telling him, “You’ve got mad super villain vibes, you know that?”
His plump lips pull back into a little smirk and his eyes gleam with amusement. “Oh yeah?”
I nod, hugging my knees a little tighter. I don’t feel as tense around him as I did before, though. Now that things with Hunter are more settled than they’ve ever been, his hypnotic friend holds no power over me.
At least, that’s what I tell myself until Sherlock takes my speaking to him as an invitation to come over and sit by me.
The tension inside me grows just a little as he sits down, but it’s not because of any conflicting feelings this time. It’s him. He’s a predator, and it’s hard to completely relax in his presence.
I was able to before, but only out of sheer ignorance. I was like a child playing with a cobra; I didn’t know he was dangerous. Now I do, and it’s a lesson my body won’t soon forget—even if the immediate threat has passed.
“What color are your eyes?” I ask him.
I feel him look over at me, so I turn my head to meet his gaze.
“What?” he asks, like that’s an odd question.
“Are they hazel? Green? Gray? Blue? I feel like they’re a different color every time I look. It’s vexing.”
He smiles at me, knowing there’s no way I’ll get a clearer look at them now with the glow of the fire in front of us. “I’m not telling you.”
“Why?” I demand, wide-eyed.
Mischief dances in his
eyes. “Maybe someday you’ll get close enough to figure it out for yourself.”
My stomach tumbles. I look away from him, redirecting my gaze to the fire. “No. I’m Hunter’s girlfriend now. It’s official.”
“I heard,” he says, and I see him nodding from the corner of my eye. Gesturing around us, he says, “Not gonna lie, I feel like this whole little coming out party he threw you was for me.”
I know I don’t really owe him any explanations. Neither of us ever meant to have a single shred of interest in one another. We were both thinking of Hunter when we crossed paths, and then we just… took a little detour.
I don’t even know if he ever really liked me at all. Maybe it was just a rumor, as untrue as the rest of them.
Just in case it wasn’t, though…
I bite down on my bottom lip, looking down at my legs. “I’m sorry you blew up Valerie’s car for no reason.”
I feel his eyes locked on me, but I don’t look at him. After a few seconds, he says, “Wasn’t for no reason. It was for you.”
I didn’t expect him to say that. I’m surprised enough that I look over at him.
His lips curve up. He leans over, knocking his shoulder into mine. “We’re friends, right?”
I don’t know about that.
I’d like to be his friend, it just seems… dangerous.
“We’re friendly, at least,” I offer back.
“There you go.” He meets my gaze again, his dancing with amusement. “We’re good, Riley. Don’t worry about it.”
“I just… I wouldn’t have wanted to hurt your feelings,” I say, even though I feel awkward saying it. “If I did, I didn’t mean to.”
He smirks. “Don’t worry, buttercup. My feelings can take it.”
My heart does a jump that warns me I should probably wrap this up and get back to Hunter.
“No regrets, then?”
“Not one,” he says, and that’s more telling since he didn’t just set Valerie’s car on fire—he kissed me.
I bite down on my bottom lip, my teeth sinking in right where his did that night.
A shiver dances down my spine.
I look away.
My stomach knots up. I think it’s okay for us to be friendly, but I still think it’s safest to avoid being alone with him.
I lean forward, looking around for Hunter. His yard is so big and spread out, we’re over here by ourselves and they’re… pretty far away.
I know Hunter doesn’t want me alone with Sherlock.
Just when I’m about to give up my spot by the fire and go find Hunter, Sherlock says, “He’s behind you.”
“What?” I twist around and my heart leaps when I spot Hunter in the shadows. I don’t know how he snuck over here without me noticing… or how long he’s been standing there. “Hunter.”
“Buttercup,” he says wryly.
My stomach twists. That feeling comes back, the not quite guilty, but definitely not innocent one.
Swallowing, I start to push myself up off the ground, but Hunter cuts me off before I can stand.
“Stay where you are.”
I do, but I look up at him warily. My heart beats erratically. Is he mad? I can’t tell.
The fire plays weird tricks, making my beautiful boyfriend look a little evil, too.
Fear dances down my spine as he walks around to stand in front of me, then drops to his knees.
Anxiety tightens in my chest. I don’t want to have hurt him. I don’t think I crossed any lines, but maybe I was flirting with one. I wasn’t trying to start anything. Quite the opposite, really. I was establishing closure, saying goodbye.
“Are you mad?” I ask worriedly, looking at Hunter. “I didn’t mean to be alone with him, I was just watching the fire and he came over.”
“Mm-hmm,” Hunter murmurs, but he doesn’t look mad, exactly.
He places a hand on my chest and pushes me back.
I’m confused, but I let him lay me down on the ground.
Then he straddles me.
A breath rushes out of me. He’s on top of me like he would be in bed, but we’re not in bed. I’m on the cold ground, we’re outside, and worst of all, Sherlock is still sitting right beside me.
Hunter leans down and kisses me.
Like always, his kiss brings a wave of butterflies to my already nervous tummy. I bring my hands up and cradle his face as I kiss him back, but I’m not into PDA, so making out like this in front of Sherlock… It’s pretty far outside my comfort zone.
I figure Hunter just needs to make a point, assert his dominance. I expect him to leave it at a kiss to mark me in front of a perceived rival.
But then his hands slide under the hoodie he gave me. I gasp against his mouth as he palms my bare breasts under my shirt.
“Hunter,” I say, breaking away.
“Yes, Riley?”
I feel heat climbing my body, heat that has nothing to do with the fire. “Maybe we should go inside,” I suggest.
Hunter shakes his head. He remains on top of me, straddling me, and almost defiantly starts to play with my breasts.
Mortified, I look over at Sherlock. “Maybe you should go.”
“Should I?”
I gasp as Hunter’s thumb runs over my nipple. Nodding fervently, I explain, “I can’t say no.”
Sherlock frowns, not comprehending.
“We’re playing a game,” I say, in a rush to explain before Hunter draws another breathless response out of me. “He can do whatever he wants—” I gasp again as Hunter squeezes my nipple, then flattens my breast against his palm and leans down to claim my lips. When he breaks away, I try to finish quickly. “He can do whatever he wants to me. I can’t stop him.”
I don’t know what I expect to see on Sherlock’s face as he watches my boyfriend toy with me, but all I see is dark interest. “Sounds like a fun game,” he remarks, glancing at Hunter. “Do I get a turn?”
Hunter smiles, meeting his friend’s gaze. “No. But feel free to watch me play with her.”
I swallow, not at all liking the sound of that. “Hunter…”
He looks down at me, cocking an eyebrow as he defiantly tweaks my nipple. “Riley…”
“This is a bad idea.”
Chapter Sixty
Hunter
I’m no stranger to bad ideas.
Riley’s probably right. In some ways, this is one.
In other ways, it’s the best fucking idea I’ve ever had.
It rubs me wrong, being a jealous guy. I’ve never encountered that before Riley. Never really looked at other men and saw much of a threat, either.
Sherlock, though. Fucking Sherlock.
He’s a different breed. A predator. A threat, even if you think you’re above that kind of thing.
And he called my fucking girl a pet name.
Buttercup.
His affection for her ignites something inside me. Anger courses through me thinking about it, but I channel it. Rather than lose my shit on Riley, I squeeze her tits a little harder.
Fear and uncertainty flicker across her pretty face, but there’s something else there, too.
I know she’s not comfortable, but that’s all right. People don’t need to be comfortable all the time.
As long as she’s at least a little bit titillated underneath that barrier of fear, we’re all right.
And she is. She squirms beneath me, her teeth sinking into that bottom lip this fucking bastard bit.
Oh yeah, it’s on.
I pull one of my hands out of her shirt so I can graze her bottom lip with my thumb, then I slide it between her pretty little lips. “Suck it, baby. Pretend it’s my cock.”
She squirms again like she’s in agony, like I’m killing her by making her do this. It’s too dark to tell, but I’d bet my trust fund she’s fire engine red.
Still, she wraps her warm, wet lips around my thumb and sucks like a good girl.
A smile claims my lips. I glance over at Sherlock and see his hot gaze l
ocked on her mouth as she sucks me.
He’s not the only fucker who’s not afraid to play with fire. All he did was douse a car in gasoline and light a match. I’m gonna mess with him.
I couldn’t do this if I didn’t know Riley was mine.
I’m gonna show the bastard just how mine she is.
Shy, reserved bookworm Riley doesn’t fuck with an audience.
She will for me, though.
She’ll do anything for me.
Well, just about anything.
I’m not sure right now how far I’ll take it, but I get so much enjoyment out of seeing Sherlock want something he absolutely can’t have, watching Riley squirm like I’m torturing her as I play with her in front of him. Every bit of it’s fun, so I don’t see it stopping soon.
I take my thumb out of her mouth. I think I should show him how good she is at sucking my cock next.
“Hunter, what are you doing?” Riley asks nervously, looking down as I unzip my pants.
“You know what I’m doing.”
Her big blue eyes widen. “Can we please go inside?”
I smile, caressing her face. “I like when you say please.”
“I’ll say it more,” she promises. “I’ll do anything you want. Please, Hunter.”
I take my cock out, moving closer to her face. I can see she’s flushed, even in the dark. I graze her bottom lip with my thumb one more time, but this time it’s not just to remind her of the kiss. This time it’s to coax her lips open as I bring my cock to it.
I see the moment she gives up hope that this won’t happen.
It’s the moment she gives herself over to the inevitability and her eyes gleam up at me with an appreciation she doesn’t understand.
“Christ,” Sherlock mutters as I shove my cock into Riley’s mouth. She makes a noise caught between a moan and a whimper, struggling to fit all of me. She doesn’t have any control of how deep she takes me right now. I’m on top of her, it’s all up to me. All she can do is lie there and take it.
Her eyes water as I push deeper. I caress the side of her face to let her know she’s doing great, and the reassurance gives her the confidence boost she needs.
Riley is fucking incredible at sucking cock. I don’t know how or why, I don’t know if it’s something in her nature or if she’s done more research on this than she cares to admit, but once she finds her rhythm, I get so sucked in, I can’t remember ever being mad.