DECEIT (B723)

by Hazel Grace

  My cock is begging—has been begging—to just take her right here and now. I don’t think she’d protest, but I want her willing on this one.

  “How about I make it worth your while,” I propose, letting my palms slide back to her ass.

  “How?”

  “We might fight a lot, baby…but the sex was phenomenal.” Emmy’s lips part, and I trail a pair of fingers over one leg towards the center of her warmth. “And I haven’t had you in a while.”

  “Bishop…”

  “Not yet. I’m not inside you.”

  Her expression hardens. “You’re not—“

  “Is he your boyfriend, Ems?”

  “No—“ She shakes her head. “—but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be your booty call whenever you want me.”

  “I always want you.” I feel the stiffness from her body begin to soften, and I lean in. “No matter who you try to replace me with.”

  My lips don’t collide with hers because I want her to feel everything. Me losing my own control over keeping us standing in one spot, her being the only rational reason why I’m in her bedroom in the first place. My worst distraction and my beautiful dream.

  Emmy doesn’t hesitate with opening her lips wider, inviting me in without my asking. Showing herself to me like I haven’t done to her.

  I envy her bravery. I want it to seep into my pores so I can express everything that simmers in my brain.

  “Someone might love me one day,” she mutters against my mouth. “And you want me to remain this way. Do you believe it’s that hard for someone to?”

  I mindlessly shake my head because it’s not even a question. It’s effortless when you get to know her. It seeps and stays there and never fades.

  I love Emmy Lou Rhodes with every molecule that makes me up. I should’ve told her the first time, but it always seemed to be lodged deep in the back of my throat, and I feel like I’m always choking on it.

  “Not at all,” I tell her, brushing a piece of hair away from her face.

  Her hand finds the top of mine as my thumb brushes through her thick locks. “But not yours.”

  Our eyes meet and just like always, I’m a moth to the flame. I’m hooked and I want to be. There is nowhere else in the world that I would rather be than with Emmy Lou Rhodes.

  Her words sound like a conviction, but she’s wrong. The adage that actions speak louder than words doesn’t hold true for Emmy because she needed those too. And the more we talk about us, the more I understand how she felt.

  Except my brain won’t form the idea that we’d survive the day when she’d shatter my heart if she ever did. So it keeps all warm and fuzzy feelings at bay.

  “You’ll always be mine,” I declare with a slight shake to my voice. “It doesn’t matter who you're with.”

  “That’s not how this works. Just because you have some male ego that—“ My lips collide with hers, and I don’t waste a second with double-guessing myself or us reaping the consequences once again from my actions, I just do.

  My tongue sweeps across the seam of her lips, seeking entrance to her sweet mouth and taste.

  It’s a brain-numbing high to kiss Emmy, and I didn’t think I’d endure it at times but, after what seems like a lifetime of waiting, I have her again and plan to make her mine with everyone knowing.

  Emmy slowly opens for me, and my hands take on a mind of their own. Exploring her body and the thin material of her bottoms. The feel of her soft skin against my callous hands is a contrast that sends a thrill of lust straight to every nerve ending in my body.

  Finding the waistband of her lace panties, I smile at the remembrance. Emmy would rock a pair of sweats and a knock-around tee, but she always had on the best panties underneath.

  And I loved the sound of the material ripping with the soft gasp off Emmy’s lips.

  Delving underneath the fabric, Emmy’s hand shoots down to my invasion and grips mine tightly. “No, we can’t.”

  Oh, but we fucking can.

  I don’t give a fuck what title, creed, paparazzi, or social standing Alexander holds, she was mine way before he set his sights on her and we’ve both made mistakes.

  “I can’t let you go, Ems. And you can’t either. You beat Camilla’s ass out of jealousy and justice for what she did to me. I’d kill this Alexander prick without blinking if he ever hurt you.”

  “But?”

  I release a heavy and silent sigh, honestly not knowing what to do. “But we’re both fucked, baby. I’m the way I am, and you’re you. Absolutely and utterly devastating to my whole existence.”

  I don’t miss this life.

  I don’t feel a loss for the lavish parties that my mom used to throw and the endless people who sauntered around, talking shit about others who are just as crooked and big-mouthed. I definitely don’t feel a hole in my life from missing the fake pleasantries, and how no one really cared how you were, they were just asking to be polite.

  It’s one of the many reasons why I took off.

  Why I left my real family, the one that shared some of the same DNA, and ran off to California for college as soon as I could.

  “You might want to fix your shade of lipstick, darling,” my mother coos lightly, sneaking into my room like she always used to do. Even as a grown adult, she can’t respect my privacy or give me space.

  “I like it,” I deadpan, examining the matte color of deep pink tinted with red. It’s called Killer Instincts. Fitting because I should’ve never come home. I could have kept ignoring and pushing off Mom’s calls and text messages with bullshit excuses about how work was busy.

  “Are you ready?”

  No.

  How do you prepare yourself for hell?

  “I’ll be down in a minute.” I watch her eye my dress, looking for any imperfections that might embarrass her. Her little princess—me—was bartered and strolled around like bait to any eligible and illegible male. Married? Not an issue if you had money, people get divorced after all, right? “Problem?”

  Mom links matching eyes with mine through my mirror and smiles, a weak and unimpressed grin illuminating her features.

  I don’t miss her.

  I know that sounds awful, but my mother is the group of teenage girls in high school who used to make fun of me because I didn’t have a date for junior prom. How there must’ve been something awry with me.

  I was a Varsity Cheerleader, and not one pimply-faced asshole had the courage to step up and ask me to be their date.

  There wasn’t anything wrong with me.

  I just hated them all. And I made no means to hide it either. I might be a noisy bitch, but I’m not a fake one.

  I couldn’t wait to disassociate myself with everyone in that school, my mother, my brothers, and this whole fucking rich town of pricks.

  The only person I’ve ever missed was Dad.

  “I’m just happy you’re home,” she offers, giving her blonde hair a gentle push for volume in her reflection. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

  She leaves me to myself, softly closing the door behind me and letting it click shut.

  It’s my birthday today and this is the last place I want to spend it, wallowing in my condo all day would have been better than this.

  Standing from the same vanity that I used to use as a teen, I make my way downstairs and pluck a flute of champagne from a waitress before I take two steps on the main floor.

  I plan on getting buzzed tonight.

  I intend to forget Bishop’s words and how he can say them but not explain why.

  I need the why before the what.

  I fucking need to know how he feels about me before I turn into a shrew because I can’t seem to fully get over him. Not even with Alexander trying. He only takes the edge off.

  “There she is, little sister.” The taunting tone immediately tenses my shoulders and has me slowly turning my head to find my brother, Adler, striding my way with a glass of dark liquid and a shit-eating grin on his face.

  I do
n’t respond to his greeting—I can’t.

  All I can remember is that day I came home from cheerleading practice and what I found waiting for me there.

  “Happy Birthday.” He wraps his free arm around my shoulders, and I give him two seconds before I’m shrugging him off me.

  “Thanks,” I mutter.

  “Mom got you to come, huh?”

  “Yep.” I down the rest of the bubbly champagne and move for another when Adler reaches out to stop me.

  “Hold on, let me get the low down. What’s been new with you? You’re like a stranger to me these days.”

  “Work, sleeping, and work,” I drone, studying the vast crowd of people in our parent’s living room and patio out back.

  “What are you like forty now?”

  I scoff through my nose, but a prissy little smile forms off my face. “Pretty damn close. You still fucking high school twats, or did you grow up a little bit since the last time I saw you?”

  Adler releases a deep chuckle as if I’m joking, but then again, he did like older women didn’t he? The whole younger woman thing was just a ploy, a cover-up from what he really used to do after school.

  “Not sure why you’re pissed at me, Ems, but chill. I’m not going to start an argument on your special day.”

  I slant my focus back to him, resenting how similar we look and how we’re actually related while being so different.

  His light blonde hair that’s perfectly styled to the side, mild brown eyes, and the faint sprinkle of freckles along his cheeks.

  “Then piss off,” I voice with steel in my tone. “I’m not gonna chill when I know what you fucking did.”

  He has the audacity to lift a brow at me, playing stupid as if I’d imagined things. “And what was that?”

  “You don’t want to get into that with me, Al.” He cringes at the nickname, always hating it for as long as I can remember. His face begins to scrunch up in a disgusting expression.

  “Right—“ He huffs then redirects his gaze onto something else that isn’t me. “—well, have a great fucking night. I’m sure we’ll be stuck somewhere together soon enough.”

  “You better hope we aren’t.”

  Adler narrows his eyes at me. “You don’t know what you saw.”

  “No?” The smell of the room mixed with different colognes and perfumes makes my stomach twist. That along with my brother’s body less than three feet from mine.

  “No,” he replies flatly.

  “Then I guess my walking in on you fucking mom on the kitchen island was my imagination then.”

  He steps closer, causing my chin to rise. My older brother, by two years, looks like he wants to strangle me, except he doesn’t have the stomach for brute force.

  I do.

  “Again,” he repeats with venom in his tone. “You don’t know what you saw. So shut the fuck up, Emmy.”

  “Does Daddy know?” Adler’s hand shoots out to grab my forearm, but when he does, I turn the tables and flip my limb to dig my nails into his. “Touch me again, you sick prick, and I’ll spill your little secret all over town. The only reason why I didn’t before is because I didn’t want to hurt Dad.”

  “Release me,” he orders sternly. “You don’t have the stomach for it.” My smile widens, and I let him go, allowing my threat to simmer as he strides away.

  Unfortunately, he also leaves his familiar and expensive aftershave lingering.

  “Well, he sounds like a douchebag, Lou Boo.” Only one person in this entire universe calls me that, and he just made this whole night manageable.

  Turning around, Mills stands behind me with a glass of clear liquid and looking handsome as shit in a white dress shirt that’s unbuttoned at the top and folded up his forearms. His black slacks and shoes make him look like he just threw it on, but Mills appears like a GQ model that any one of these bitches would eat up.

  His grayish blue eyes follow my brother, watching him as if looking to make sure he doesn’t come back before returning to me, where I receive an award-winning smile.

  “Happy Birthday, Ems.” I close the space between us and wrap my arms around him in a hug. Thanking God for giving me a small piece of relief from the physical pain of whatever is going to happen tonight.

  “Why are you here?” I mutter into his chest, smelling his mint and cedarwood cologne before stepping away and peering up at him.

  “You told me you came home alone, and I remember once you telling me how much you hated it here. I didn’t want you to spend your day like shit.” He furrows his brows. “Why did you come?”

  I give a noncommittal shrug of my shoulders, not wanting to provide him with the whole truth. Bishop would never follow me here, and I needed my brain to rest from everything he said to me.

  “My mom has been bugging the shit out of me for months about this party. Not that it’s really for me or anything. I hardly know anyone here.”

  “She’s been bugging the shit out of you for years,” he counters with a lopsided smile. “So you decided to come on your birthday, of all times?”

  I shake my head. “No, I wanted to check out this Hampton party for that Willy Wonka character.”

  Mills frowns. “Didn’t Bishop tell you to lay off going on solo missions?”

  I cock my head to the side. The boys are always talking about me and my interests behind my back. “How the hell would you know?”

  Mills mocks my actions and throws up a brow for good measure. “Why wouldn’t I know? We’re a team.”

  “I wasn’t going to do anything.”

  “But show up,” he deadpans, not buying a word of what I was saying even though it was true.

  Have I been known to go off the mapped-out plan, sure, but I don’t do it all the time like they do.

  “Yeah, I just wanted to vibe him out.”

  Mills eyes me. “Sure…well, good thing I brought the crew with me then.”

  “The what?”

  Oh, I know what he means. I just don’t believe it. The Hamptons aren’t really my second fam’s style as much as it’s mine.

  Mills rearranges his body, stepping to the side to give me a clear view of the fully stocked bar on the sidewall. And there, like the unconventional and out-of-place group they are, stands Blue, Marty, Kyson, and Bishop—staring dead at me with drinks in their hands.

  All of them dressed casually in jeans—which I don’t give a shit about, but my mother is going to croak from a heart attack with her rule on formal attire.

  Oops.

  Mills waves them over, and I watch them study my childhood home without an ounce of awe or excitement as they approach.

  Killing and adrenaline are what’s invigorating.

  Fancy parties, not so much.

  “Happy Birthday, Emmy Lou,” Blue chirps the moment she’s within earshot, then lifts her red drink. “Nice party.”

  I barely take in the fact that she looks gorgeous as always without even trying.

  I also send her a warning glare through my tight jaw.

  “Talk to my brothers, and I’ll kill you.”

  Blue attempts to hold back a grin and fails miserably while Kyson holds out his arms for me to walk into.

  “Ditching us for the extravagant party?” he accuses teasingly as he encases me into him. “Always knew you were a fucking brat.”

  “You should’ve known that already with Miss Light-On-The-Ice every time she asks someone for a drink,” Marty chimes in, gripping my forearm to pull me out of Kyson’s grip. He squeezes me tightly—too tightly on purpose—to his frame and kisses the top of my head. “What are you like eighteen now?”

  I roll my eyes, my nose smooched into his hard chest. “Leave me alone,” I half-ass whine.

  Another pair of hands wrap around my wrists, and I know the feel of them anywhere. Marty promptly releases me and allows Bishop to haul me in front of him, blue eyes glimmering in something I can’t read.

  “Eighteen?” he repeats off a smirk. “Aren’t you a year older than me?�
�

  My nostrils flare because what the fuck is wrong with these assholes about age? Isn’t it just a number, and who the fuck cares?

  “So that’d make her at least eleven because aren’t you like ten or something, Bish?” Mills interjects. “You throw temper tantrums like one.”

  I smile, big and wide, and Bishop shoots one of his famous glares at him.

  “Want me to remind you how my eleven-year-old ass hits?” he challenges.

  “Don’t get us kicked out just yet,” Blue states. “I want to at least eat.”

  Like a fly to shit, she gains all my focus.

  “Don’t try eating one of my brothers’—“ Marty turns Blue away by the shoulders and sends me an exasperated look.

  “I’ll go feed the redhead; you enjoy your party,” he offers. “We’ll be back.”

  “And I’m going with them,” Mills adds, following close behind. “I want to know how good the wealthy eat.”

  They take off, leaving me with the Ying and Yang twins.

  Kyson looks around the place and raises both his brows. “Sooo…this is where you grew up?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Hey, Emmy Lou,” a male voice says from behind me. “Would you like to—“

  “Fuck off,” Kyson growls out before I can even turn around to face whoever was just behind me.

  “Ky,” I scold through narrowed and surprised eyes. “What the hell?”

  “Bishop wanted to dance with you.” He slices his eyes to his best friend, and the look on his face tells me that he’s purposely either trying to piss him off or make him uncomfortable.

  Regardless, I’d like to not be the science project tonight.

  Bishop must’ve done something on the way here, and it’s payback.

  I swear I have no clue how they are so close because they’re constantly fucking with each other, but who am I?

  Men are fucking weird.

  “I’ll dance with little Emmy if she wants to,” Bishop replies, surprising the absolute shit out of me. “It’s her day, after all.”

  Both of their gazes fall on me, waiting for me to reply, and I feel my cheeks flush. The room is suddenly too hot, and I need to stop telling Mills so much.

  “Sure.” I shrug my shoulder, attempting to appear unaffected. But it quickly fades when Bishop reaches for my hand and laces our fingers intimately.