“Do you want me, Sanderson?”
She’d never called him by his last name before, but it was doing it for him, now. “I want you so badly, I can hardly think.”
“Prove it?”
Scott rose slightly, bringing his attention to her pert breasts. The vine tattoos wound their way around the swells, a delicate swirl contrasting against the pale skin. He traced it with his tongue and watched her shiver. “I love all your tattoos. They’re so sexy.”
“Seriously?”
“Fuck yeah, you’re like art wearing art.” He kissed his way along her ribs. “So pretty. So perfect.”
“Scott…”
He looked up. “Are you okay? We don’t have to do this. We can just cuddle or watch TV or anything you want.”
Sam’s forehead furrowed. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, then her fist tightened in his hair. “What I want is for you to show me how much you want me.”
Scott grinned. Now that, he could do.
He took his time working his way down Sam’s body, being careful not to tickle her skin as he kissed his way along it. When he got to her panties, a blood red thong, he was so hard, it hurt. She had no tattoos around her hips or thighs and when he raised his head to ask why, she pushed his face back to her again. “No distractions, Sanderson. I need it.”
He nipped at her thigh. “Bossy. I thought you liked it a little rough in the bedroom.”
“Not tonight. We’re not having sex, either. We’re just messing around a bit.”
There was a hardness in her voice. Was she doubting him? Determined to prove himself, he licked a path across one inner thigh and along another, tracing her over with his tongue. He could smell her, hot and womanly and it was making his mouth water. “That sounds delightful to me, Ms DaSilva.”
“Good. Now more, Sanderson, faster.” He could hear the impatience in her voice. He tugged her underwear, sliding it down her thighs. “Would you like me to…?”
“I think I’ll die if you don’t.”
Her pussy was lovely, wet and pink. He spread her folds, parting her with the most care he could, inhaling deeply, and savouring her. He breathed over her flesh, loving the way she shivered.
“I’m pretty sure if you do that long enough you’ll get my pussy drunk,” she said.
Scott laughed. “Does that mean I should stop?”
The hand in his hair tightened. “No. Show me what you’re made of, Galahad.”
He dragged his tongue through her folds and dipped it inside her.
“Oh my God, Scott!”
He set a fast fluttering pace that had her crying out in a way that would have made his sixteen-year-old-self black out. How many times had he imagined this? How impossible had it seemed? Scott raised his head. “You taste so fucking good, I want to do this forever.”
“So do it forever,” she moaned. “I’m so close, I’m already so close.”
Scott bent back to his task, still dizzy, still drunk but determined. He pressed his mouth around her clit and sucked. It wasn’t refined, he was rubbing his chin and cheeks against her as much as he was licking but from the sound and feel of her, she was coming, and coming hard. He could keep his mouth going like this. His cock was straining against his pants, but he knew he had no way of wielding the thing with any kind of finesse.
Leave it for later, he thought, as he licked. You can make love to her in the morning and it’ll be all softly-lit and romantic and then you can have a shower and go out for breakfast.
Sam was crying out. He was making her come, he could taste it, feel her pussy clamping around him. He kept going, pulling her clit into his mouth, pressing himself into her wetness. Her cries accelerated and her hands fisted his hair. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck, Scott I’m still coming.”
She bucked against him and warmth flooded Scott’s tongue. He continued working against her, reveling in the taste and sound, in the knowledge that he’d gotten her where she needed to go. Eventually, she stopped bucking and squealing. Wriggling up the pillows, she released her hold on his hair. “You’re such a posh piece of work, Sanderson.”
Scott was gratified to see that her cheeks were flushed and her skin dotted with tiny beads of sweat. “Did you like that?”
“Yes,” she said, though she didn’t sound as happy as he would have liked. “Where did you learn to eat pussy like that?”
“University?”
“You sound unsure.”
“I don’t know, I can barely think. I just did what I always wanted to do to you.”
Sam smiled, but her expression was misty. Scott wished he could focus on it but the room was spinning and twirling inside his head. “I want to have sex with you but I’m a bit drunk.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that. That’s okay, Sanderson.”
“I’m sorry, I feel like such a disappointment. Do you want me to do something else? Do you want me to go down on you again?”
She flashed him a Mona Lisa smile. “No, I don’t have a death wish. Just come up her and lie down.”
She shuffled to the left side of the bed, leaving a space for him. Scott lay beside her, feeling drunk and horny and exhausted. The combined effect made him more than a little soppy. He looked at Sam and was overwhelmed by a warmth in his chest.
“You’re lovely,” he told her. “Wild and lovely and I like you so much. You know that, right?”
“Sure, Galahad, I know that.”
He grinned. “You used to call me that when we were kids.”
She ran a hand through her hair, smoothing it. “I know. Did you like it?”
“Yes.” He yawned. “So…much.”
A heaviness was washing over him, but he shoved it aside. He was drunk and incapable of fucking, but he wasn’t going to sleep. He wasn’t…at all….
* * *
Scott awoke at five in the morning to a splitting head and an empty bed. The woman he’d spent the evening with was gone and after assessing the situation—or what he could remember of the situation—he knew he couldn’t blame Samantha. What the hell was wrong with him, getting so shitfaced for no reason? He got up and pissed with his eyes closed, unwilling to face the world or natural light until he alleviated some of his physical agony. He peered through his eyelids as he washed his hands and what he saw had him jumping backward into the towel rack. There were big black marks all over his face.
Panicking thoughts of flesh eating bacteria consumed him as he hit the light. It wasn’t flesh-eating bacteria. It was black marker. One of his cheeks was covered with the word ‘traitor.’ The other wore a cartoonish but unmistakable vagina.
“Samantha,” Scott growled. “What the fuck have you done?”
On instinct he lifted his shirt and sure enough there were more black-ink words. ‘No matter what you and your dad do, I’m never selling.’
Scott swore. The lines between the message—and Sharpie vagina—were easy to follow. His father had done something and implicated him, as well. Samantha had responded not by talking to him, but by pranking him, the way she always had.
Fury rose in his stomach like acid. He ran the tap, needing to wash his face before he got dressed and made his father cop to whatever bullshit he’d dragged him into. Scott lathered his face with the complimentary bar of soap and scrubbed hard. When he washed the bubbles away, he saw none of the ink had budged. Samantha had used a permanent marker. He looked around the room for something to help him and spotted some additional marker on the side mirror. It read buyscottsandersonaroot.com.
Scott Sanderson sucked in a huge breath of air and then bellowed every curse word he knew.
Chapter 14
September 30, 2007
Sam was lying on her bed sketching. The petals on her clockwork rose tattoo were crooked, but it wasn’t for anyone, it was just to have something to do with her hands. Something that wasn’t studying or thinking about Scott. She looked out of her window to next door, as she’d already done dozens of times, and saw that the Sanderson house was sea
led and silent. She’d barely seen Scott since his mother passed away two months ago and he wouldn’t meet her eyes whenever they did. Both Nicole and her dad were still leaving food but after the pie-smashing, Sam couldn’t bring herself to help them. He could have destroyed her offering out of frustration, but it had felt personal and if receiving her food hurt him, she didn’t want to do it again…
And she was failing at not thinking about Scott. She traced the velvety rim of a petal, mentally counting the days until she and Nicole were eighteen. Twenty-three. She couldn’t fucking wait. First they’d get a tattoo, then she’d start her apprenticeship and ink people instead of bananas. She’d make killer money and have clients and a portfolio and a car and—
“Sam!” Nicole burst into her room, slamming the door back with such force the walls rattled. “Sammy, I need your help!”
She was crying. Not just a little bit, either—her mouth was open and her nose was running, spit and snot mingling freely. Her eyes were bright red and she looked unhinged. Sam sat up, sending her notepad spilling to the ground. “What happened?”
“It’s…it’s…” Fresh tears burst from Nicole’s eyes like fireworks. “I know I shouldn’t have taken them but I did and now they’re gone and I don’t know what to do.”
Sam stood, and tried to pull her sister into her arms but Nicole backed away. “Don’t, I can’t handle it.”
“Then tell me what’s wrong,” Sam said. “Just tell me and I’ll fix it.”
Her twin gave a deep, quavering sob. “I took some pictures for Greyson with my polaroid camera.”
Fucking hell. “You mean naked pictures?”
“No! I’m just in my underwear and-and in some pictures you can see side-boob but no…”
“Nipples?”
“Yeah.”
Sam breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Okay, that’s something. Why the fuck did you take them? You don’t even wear short-shorts!”
Nicole looked away, her cheeks red as flame. “I don’t know, I just…I just wanted to and Greyson’s birthday is coming up and I wanted to.”
“That’s fine,” Sam said quickly. “You can do whatever you want. So what’s the problem? He’s not showing his mates, is he?”
“No, I haven’t even given them to him, yet.”
“So what’s the—”
“They’re missing!” Nicole’s voice was thin as a toy whistle. “I had them in an envelope on my dresser and last week they just disappeared.”
“Last week?” Sam was aghast. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I didn’t know what to do. I just kind of blocked it out, told myself I must have put them somewhere else but now…but now.” Her twin crammed her fingers into her mouth and bit down, a panic move Sam recognized from their childhood.
She tugged her sister’s hands away. “Nix, tell me what happened, super-fast. Like a Band-Aid coming off.”
The metaphor seemed to resonate with Nicole, who always tore off Band-Aids as though they’d personally done her wrong. She withdrew her fingers from her mouth. “They’re on the school website. Someone must have scanned them and posted them on the current events page. I saw them when I went on there to check the exam times.”
Sam frowned. Whoever had done this was an idiot. No one went on the school page except teachers and nerds like her sister. If they wanted revenge, why hadn’t they put them up on Facebook or MSN messenger?
Nicole paced toward the window. “I don’t know what to do. I tried to delete the posts but I can’t and if I tell the teachers they’ll know I’m disgusting.”
“Nix!”
“Oh, don’t give me dad’s kumbaya sexual freedom bullshit! I’m the school captain. I can’t have my fucking naked pictures on the fucking internet!”
Sam, recognized Nicole was a woman on the edge and decided not to pursue the topic. “So, you didn’t give Greyson the pictures?”
“No.”
“Then who could have taken them?”
Nicole drew her upper lip into her mouth and released it again. “I…it might be…”
Her gaze flashed to the window and Sam knew exactly who she meant. “Scott?”
“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know for sure, but he stole your underwear and he knows how to climb the tree into the house. Who else would do it?”
“Yeah,” Sam said numbly. “Who else would do it?”
There was a sharp pain in her chest, like the point of a burning blade. It wasn’t only that he’d done such a horrible thing, it was that—and she hated herself for thinking it—it was that he’d looked at and stolen sexy pictures of Nicole. She’d always thought…but it didn’t matter…but he’d always implied… He wasn’t supposed to be like other gross boys, getting turned on by her and Nicole’s sameness. He was meant to…
Know me. He was meant to know me.
“Sam?” Nicole said in a small voice. “What…what should we do?”
Adrenaline pumped through Sam’s veins, and with it the need for urgent action. She ran to her desk and flipped open her laptop.
“What are you going to do?”
“You’ll see.”
Sam opened Firefox and searched for the Brunswick Secondary School website. She pulled up the right page and clicked ‘current events.’ There were the photos, posted under the heading ‘Your School Captain Nicole DaSilva.’ The picture quality was shit—they were grainy and the color had bled slightly, but there was no denying it was Nicole. She was posing awkwardly, arching her back and lifting her hair. She was wearing a pale pink bra and bikini briefs.
“These aren’t so bad,” Sam said. “They’re no worse than Bonds commercials.”
“But I don’t want to be in a Bonds commercial! What if I get in trouble? What if I can’t get into university? What if I don’t get dux? It’s so fucking embarrassing!”
“Okay, okay, I was just expecting a lot worse. We can deal with this.”
She scrolled to the top of the page, clicked on ‘new post’ and began to type. ‘Whoever the dickhead—’
“You can’t write that,” Nicole interrupted. “Curse words and inappropriate language is automatically blocked.”
“And revenge porn isn’t?”
“I didn’t make the system, I’m just telling you what you can and can’t do. I know Joey Hamilton couldn’t post about his student film on here because the bio had ‘shit’ in it.”
Sam backspaced and retyped. ‘Whoever the dillhole who posted this picture is, you’re a pervert and a moron. That’s me, SAMANTHA DASILVA—you know, the skank sister of the school captain?
Nicole gripped her shoulder, her fingers biting into her skin. “Sam, you can’t do that!”
“Yes I can.”
“But—
“Do you seriously think anyone is going to have trouble believing that’s me?” She turned to look at her sister. “You’re going to uni. I’m going to work in the tattoo shop. It doesn’t matter if people think I’m trash, it only matters that they don’t think it’s you.”
Nicole shook her head. “You can’t take the blame for me. This was my mistake.”
Sam swatted her. “This wasn’t a mistake. You can take all the hardly-nude pictures of yourself you want.”
“But—”
“Dude, what’s the point of having a twin if you can’t do this kind of shit?”
Nicole was crying again, smaller, more delicate tears. “Sam, thank you so much.”
“Anytime.” Sam turned back to the computer and added. “These pictures were stolen and seeing as I’m underage, that makes you a pedo. I’m going to the cops and trust me, anyone who shares or saves a copy is going on the sex offender registry. All the best, Sam.”
She clicked post and watched the writing pop up directly above Nicole’s picture. “Now go call Mrs Fogell or someone from IT and tell her to take the post down. Hopefully no one sees it because the school events page is bullshit, but if they do, they’ll think it’s me.”
“Right,” Nicole said. �
��You’re not actually going to the cops, are you?”
“Fuck no. We’re going to be dealing with that prick ourselves.” She opened a new window on her computer. Sam opened Facebook and searched for Scott Sanderson. There he stood in his profile picture dressed in cricket gear next to his private school friends. Her stomach twisted at the sight of him. How could she still think he was handsome at a time like this?
Nicole tapped her shoulder. “Sam, what are you doing?”
“Again, you’ll see.”
She opened up a new window on Firefox and searched for the website template program they’d used at school. Her blood felt hot and thin, like electric oil. There was fear, there was excitement, but most of all there was the knowledge of what she was about to do. She opened a new template and filled in the details as quickly as she could. When Nicole saw the banner she’d written, she gasped. “Sam, you can’t do that!”
Sam, aware that her conscience had been twinging for the same reason, turned to look at her sister. “Does his mum dying mean he gets to fuck over whoever he wants for the rest of his life?”
“No, but—”
“Our mum left,” Sam reminded her. “She might as well be dead, for all we hear from her. Does that mean I get to break into Scott’s house and steal his naked photos and put them on the internet for lolz?”
Nicole sucked her upper lip into her mouth again. “Mum left when we were kids.”
“So? Look, I’m not going to hurt Scott, I’m not even doing anything on the level of what he did to us, I’m just going to make sure he knows who he messed with.”
“But—”
“Call school. Get the post taken down before some nerd goes on the events page and sees your underwear shots. Just let me do what I’m going to do.”
Nicole looked pained. “Okay, I’m going to call Mrs Fogell. You stay here and do…whatever it is you’re going to do.”
“It won’t be too bad,” Sam promised. “Nothing illegal and no worse than what he’s done to us.”
Nicole didn’t answer. She left the room quietly, closing the door behind her. Twenty minutes later, Sam studied her newly minted website. It wasn’t flashy, just a single page with a few photos and a big block of text. The fanciest thing about it was the big digital doomsday clock calculating how long Scott’s virginity had lasted—the timer was currently set at eighteen years, three weeks, ten hours, two minutes and thirty three seconds. Sam had had to guess the minutes, but she figured it was mostly accurate. She scanned what she’d written for typos.
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