It startles me so much that my stomach clenches into a little anxiety ball and this is after…um...I dunno, a lot of drinks. Shit! I can’t believe Brad is here and not only here but talking to Jared. I don’t want him to come over and talk to me, I don’t want him talking to Jared about me. I’m done with his bullshit. I really don’t want to see him, so I turn around again and try to focus my attention on the girls as I hear Hannah telling the others about the sketchy guys. I smile missing about half of it and then take three quick sips of my drink. God, I need more alcohol to obliterate this suck-ass night. But I can’t stop thinking about what a jerk Brad is, breaking my heart in high school and again in college. At least I’m over Brad now, although being into Jared isn’t turning out to be much better.
It’s weird because after I see them talking, the next thing I know Jared is pushing through the crowd in my direction. I try not to look at him and remain outwardly cool and calm, even though my thoughts are racing. Inside, I’m wishing he was actually coming to talk to me even if it’s to fight. But it turns out he is, because now he’s standing at my elbow and I almost jump again, surprised to see him there.
“I need to talk to you,” he says, his voice loud to be heard over the pumping music. He looks extremely pissed off, his brown eyes darker suddenly and a bit unreadable in the dim light. I’m not sure what to say.
“Really?” I finally spit out, acting pissed off too. Truthfully, I’m a bit excited to see what he might have to say. If he says anything at all, it will have to be better than nothing, unless of course he’s going to lecture me. In which case, he’s getting a verbal smack down. I follow him out of the room and up the stairs.
“What the fuck do you want,” I hiss as soon as we’re up the stairs and the music is low enough to be heard over. I can feel my eyes lowering into deadly slits. I’ve decided on the walk out of the room, following his perfect ass and muscular back up the stairs, that he is pissing me off. I’ve suddenly remembered how he’s fucked with me, rejected me, confused me and then I recall that he thinks I’m some kind of huge party slut and he probably just wants to harass me about it or use me.
The problem is that I’m trying to ignore how devastatingly hot he is in his form fitting white t-shirt and dark jeans. I just want to touch his biceps, his chest, the slight bulge in his pants that could be…is it? Oh God, focus, Victoria, you turned on slut.
“Did you mean what you said before, do you really want to just fuck and that’s it?” he asks, his tense angry face somehow more gorgeous and almost seductively dangerous, like tightly coiled fury, brown eyes sparking, muscles clenched. I think, WTF, now he wants to take me up on my offer?
“Oh, now you want to fuck me, hmmm?” I say, moving closer, pressing my body up against his, looking up to watch his expression, wanting to see if it will change, trying to act the slut, apparently how he assumes I will act. Goddamn him.
I act like I’m about to kiss him, my hands sliding up his chest, our mouths so close to one another that I can smell his warm mint and tangy vodka breath and it almost makes me want to actually put my hot little mouth on his gorgeous one. But he’s a statue, not moving, not responding. I jerk away, rigid like a loaded gun, ready to go off.
“I’m not sure I can do that now that you’ve basically called me a whore, Jared,” I seethe. “I want you to stop fucking with me,” I spit, turning, about to stalk away from him. Before I can take two steps he grabs my arm, dragging me back into the room, pulling me around to face him, a pissed off smirk on his lips, nostrils flaring. Oh how I want to slap that smirk off his perfect face. Either that, or really go through with what he suggested. Just sleep with him, like an anger fuck. My heart starts to slam and a sexual thrill runs through me.
“Brad Winter, Victoria? Really?” he sneers, pinning me with his eyes, fumbling with the cap of the silver flask he’s been clutching all night, finally pulling it off and taking a huge swill.
“What the fuck does that mean!?” I throw back at him.
“Well, since you’ve been with everyone else, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. But really, Brad Winter?” he mocks, lips curling up into a sarcastic drunk sneer, fumbling to pocket the silver flask again.
“What the fuck did he tell you?!” I demand, studying his face for some kind of clue, but finding nothing but dark arrogant asshole. “Did he tell you I slept with him!?” Jared doesn’t answer, crossing his arms, looking down at me like he expects me to go on. But I’m playing my cards close to the chest cause I’m not sure I want to tell him the truth. When I don’t say anything he finally speaks.
“Yeah well he also said you sucked Hunter McVane’s cock at some party over the summer. Oh and then there was that other guy at the New Year’s party and some other guy at the last frat party, oh and Mike Sketch-Ass Monahan tonight with your little strip tease. God, Victoria, you are worse than I thought. You are some kind of fuckinpartyslut,” he grinds out.
“Oh, fuck you, you double-standard bastard!” I shriek, “So it’s okay for you to be with however many girls you want but it’s not okay for me?! Fuck you! Go to hell, Jared McKinley!” I snap back.
“No fuck you, Victoria! Do you know how many girls Brad’s been with? He’s a man-whore. He brags that he’s been with a ton of girls. I know he’s a lying piece of shit, but he has been with lots of people and every single one is a huge slut,” he pauses for a moment, clenching and unclenching one of his fists, finally saying, “And I’ll bet you snorted some fuckin coke earlier too. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Yeah actually I had some real fun earlier. I fucked the shit out of every single guy in that room, I let them run a Goddamn train on me, oh and this was after I snorted five lines of coke, smoked two bowls and then after all was said and done, I had sex with Hannah too in front of them on the coffee table. Oh and then I stripped for everyone. Yeah, that’s what I did,” I snarl.
“You are not who I thought you were, Victoria,” he flings back. Simple. Just a few words that crush me.
“Why the fuck do you care?” I shriek, close to tears now, angry that he is accusing me, that things are going wrong, that he caught me in that room earlier, that Brad lied to him about what happened between us, that somehow Brad knew about Hunter at the party over the summer with the leopard print boxers. My first and only time doing that to a guy and it only happened because of how drunk and depressed I was about Nick.
“Seriously, Jared, fuck you! I hate you. I don’t know why you fucking care!” He just looks at me, his asshole grin gone for a moment, lips tightly compressed, looking pissed and upset and I have no idea why. I’m having a hard time processing everything through my drunk, drugged up mind. I step forward, closing the distance between us.
“Why do you care?! Leave me alone!” I growl, pushing him in the chest. He doesn’t budge, but his eyes blaze and he pushes me back, not hard, but enough to get my attention. I rock on my heels, stunned, feeling slickly off kilter, off balance and before I can react he’s talking again.
“I had expectations of you and you broke them all!” he blurts, and I’m not sure I heard correctly because the smirking, angry, biting bastard is back. “What if I want a girlfriend, but I don’t want one who’s a slut,” he says with another sly derisive grin, his eyebrow lifted in contempt.
My mouth hangs open for a moment until I control myself, eyes closing down to little glaring slits. I can’t fucking believe him! I try to form words, thoughts flying, but everything is turning a bit dark around the edges, hazy and indistinct and I feel like I’m rocking back and forth, the world not quite steady. I’ve had too much to drink and I’m reacting on instinct, letting my instantaneous emotions dictate what I’m about to say. His words echo and suddenly we’re back to the beginning again. My first words, repeating themselves like a threat, a taunt and so I can hear myself say them again.
“Why don’t you just fuck me and get it over with you fuckin dirty bastard and then we can stop talking about it. And for the record, I never slept wi
th Brad Winter.”
He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me, angry, pissed off, a fucking jerk.
“I hate you. I want to fucking hit you,” I whisper, my voice rough with anger.
God I want to thrash him! I want to kill him. I get even closer to him, pause, and then hit him, one punch on his solid pec. Not hard, just serious and he glares at me, muscled arms crossed, a tiny jerk-off smile hitching his mouth up on one side, taunting, like “I dare you to hit me again. I dare you to hit me with all you’ve got.”
God do I want to hit him…fucking hard. I’m trying not to, but the tense violence inside me is dying for a way out. I want to scream, throw a fit, slap him, strangle him for making accusations, grab his face and smack that sarcastic grin right off it, instead I dig my nails into my palm, trying not to totally lose it.
He seems calm, in control, when he closes the small distance between us and grabs my arms with his hot hands, pulling them down to my sides, finally pinning them behind my back. Clearly he doesn’t want to risk the physical ambush I can feel building. But now we’re touching, thigh to chest, his arms around me. OH MY GOD. I want to kiss him. He looks down at me and his expression is still tightly controlled anger, the tiny twitch in his jaw the only indication that he probably wants to kill me too. He continues to hold my arms in a tight grip and then he lets go, his arm snaking around my waist and suddenly it hardly matters what has been said, in fact I can’t even remember most of our conversation. All that matters is that he is here now, and there’s this magnetic, irresistible attraction between us.
He stares at me, the tiny twitch jerking, eyes blazing, mouth tense and without saying anything his arms tighten around my back, holding me close, almost lovingly but with a hint of under the surface tension and rage. And then I do the unthinkable, the unplanned. I look up at his incredible mouth, wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him, warm lips pressed hard. And he doesn’t pull back or jerk away like I thought he might, instead he leans in, kissing me back, harder, mouth opening, tasting like peppermint gum and alcohol. Warm and rich. It’s like spontaneous combustion because I’m burning hot and his lips are firm and intense and I feel this outward explosion feeling and I’m drunk and hazy and yet high from the pot. I’ve never felt this way before and all I really want is for him to fuck me.
Suddenly all the alcohol I’ve had tonight hits me. I’m dirty drunk. I’ve gone from crawl to full speed 100 mph in just minutes. Now my reality is glimpses of scenes, time moving at double speed. Our bodies have taken over, hands that know what to do. Throwing off clothing, doing what feels right, and I can hear myself say, yes, yes, yes, to everything he is doing and little moans from him as I touch him. We’re fumbling and tearing at each piece of clothing and now our skin comes together, hot, naked and alive. I’ve never felt as alive as I do now.
We don’t speak and things begin to move a lot faster, time warping. Everything comes to me in flashes of light and dark, shadow and highlight. His face, his golden green brown eyes, sparking, warm, blazing with intensity, his chest, running my hands over every plane, his biceps, the ripple of his abs. Everything is sensation now, warm fingers against burning hot skin. The heaviness of his body as he pushes me against the bed, our lips in constant contact, kissing and biting, tongues darting and tasting. It’s like a frenzy, a pot that’s boiling over, hotter and hotter and the world is shimmering and glimmering and his eyes are beautiful in the half light and everything about him is suddenly sizzling and urgent.
And then he breaks away from my mouth and murmurs something in my ear that takes me even higher, sending heat coursing over me.
“I’ve had a fantasy about being with you like this.”
And it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard, and completely unbelievable and my heart sprints, his words throbbing in my head. Oh my God I want him, inside me, now.
And when he’s finally inside me, it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. A deep and primitive place, a place I have never felt before, never experienced and as he moves in and out I’m taken to new heights of sensation. His fingers are intertwined with mine, I remember that and I remember some pain, but then pleasure, intense pleasure and it doesn’t feel cheap. It doesn’t feel like anger. It feels like it means something, a connection, a spark, a torch shined into the darkness.
Every sensation, everything, hands, burning hot skin against skin, the play of muscles, him inside me, entering a place where no one has ever been, satisfying a desire, a raging throbbing ache that I’ve had for years. Sex. Making Love. Fucking. Mouths never still, hands always moving, hips rocking, thrusting against me, in and out, bringing a heightened feeling of awareness of my own body. He is the first. The first…the first…the first…fantasy. And then blackness. Deep, dark, satisfying blackness.
When I awake it’s just starting to get light out, tiny fingers of sunlight slanting over the bed in which I lie. It takes a minute for everything to register in my brain. I am still slightly drunk, I’ve got the spins and I’m in bed with Jared. I’m in bed with…Jared. What the fuck?! Then everything comes flooding back to me in snatches of conversation, images and feelings. His words about me breaking all his expectations, telling me he wants a girlfriend, but one who isn’t a slut, me replying that he should just fuck me, us falling onto one another in our lust, ripping off clothes, everything feeling damn right, telling him yes, yes, yes and then sex. And then the words, fantasy, us, together like this and him inside me, his eyes as he looked at me, startling golden brown-green, like amber in the half-light, shining. And then blackness.
I turn over and he’s still there, right behind me, his warm hand on my hip and I feel sick. I don’t think I’ve ever been so drunk in my entire life. I feel like I need to throw up. I climb very carefully out of bed and into the cold damp morning air. The room is freezing and my clothes are all over the floor, flung here and there. Jared doesn’t stir, just lays there peacefully, his face beautiful in sleep.
My head pounds and my stomach suddenly rolls. I hunker down on the ground and crawl around to gather my clothing cause it seems to keep the spinning feeling at bay. I sit and struggle into several pieces of clothing and finally crawl to the door and open it a crack. No one appears to be around. I crawl down the hall toward where I thought I spotted a bathroom last night, hoping no one will see me. It’s empty and I crawl inside and promptly throw up everything in my stomach, heaving and heaving, all the alcohol coming up along with my dinner from late last night.
I sit on the floor, quivering and weak and I realize I need water and hot greasy food and I need to leave here. Immediately. I’m suddenly nervous, out of my mind, thoughts racing. What have I done? I had sex…with Jared. The area between my legs aches something fierce and I know I can’t walk straight and then I remember that sometimes virgins bleed their first time. I rip down my jeans and wipe myself. Blood. Yup. Gross. I wonder if Jared will notice. Is this blood anywhere else? I must have gotten up out of bed at some point to put my underwear back on because it had been on when I got up this morning. Jesus, what have I done?
I cradle my head in my hands, my poor head pounding like a bass beat, thump, thump, thump, throbbing. I stand up and I’m light headed, dizzy, disorientated, all the blood rushing behind my eyes. My vision finally clears and my body aches and my stomach growls. I must leave. Where are my friends, where is Hannah? My stomach rolls again and I’m sick, leaning over the bowl again to purge. Finally I straighten up, seeing stars for the second time. I put my hand against the wall and just lean there for a few moments, breathing deeply.
A thought suddenly occurs to me, seemingly out of nowhere. Did we use protection last night? I have no idea. I’m shaking hard now and I don’t want to leave the room, but I must. I need to get away from here before I have to face Jared. But I can’t just walk out of here. I wish my car was outside but it’s not and I need a ride. I need Hannah or Amanda. My phone? I search my pockets, uselessly, knowing it’s not there. Where can it be? My jacket? I’d hung it in t
he hallway closet. I quickly rinse out my mouth at the sink, staring at myself in the mirror above. For some reason I am looking exceptionally well this morning. My eyes are blood shot, makeup smeared a bit but my hair is nicely mussed and my cheeks are red and my lips extra red and almost chapped, but in an attractive sexual flush kind of way. I’ve had sex…with Jared. I’m over it now. I’m free. Maybe…Maybe not…
I smile a bit in the mirror, and finish washing my hands. I crack open the door to the bathroom and look outside. No one is around. Everything is dead quiet. I pad down the hallway in my bare feet finally reaching the entryway. I pull open the closet and my phone is inside my jacket pocket. I light up the screen and it says five new text messages, four from Hannah, one from Amanda. I open them.
Snatch where are you, you slut?
Seriously Victoria, we need to leave, where are yoooou?
Call me ASAP, I’m worried about you. You went off with Jared and now we can’t find you. We want to leave. Call me bitch!!!
Hannah’s final message. Andy says he knows you’re with Jared, so we’re leaving. Call me, please!
Amanda’s; Vic, WTF, Call us.
I groan. Everyone is looking for me. I spent the night in bed with Jared, I probably bled all over him and he’s going to think I’m disgusting or wonder why. I have to go. I type a message to Hannah letting her know I need to be picked up at the house, hoping she’s in her dorm room a few miles down the road and will wake up and come get me. Suddenly I feel trapped. I can’t walk out of here! It’s cold and snowy outside and the walk is several miles and I’m certainly not dressed for it with a tiny tank top and a light jacket and boots that were not made for snow. I need to leave. I feel horrid. I can’t believe what I’ve done. Jared will laugh in my face. Where can I hide?
I’m just about to turn to walk back down the hall to camp out in the bathroom for a little while longer when someone rounds the corner. Jared. He’s dressed in jeans and nothing else, padding on bare feet, his expression when he sees me is questioning, wondering and he looks so hot, hair ruffled, muscles moving beneath the skin. OMG, I feel shitty.
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