by Kat T. Masen
Phoebe’s desperation catches me off guard, forcing me to move toward a room less noisy to be able to listen properly.
“Phoebe, what are you talking about?”
“Liam, he came back home, and he’s been—”
“What, Phoebe? I don’t have time for this. Liam is a big boy,” I tell her, covering my guilt.
“Liam is a big boy? So, what Liam said is true. You’re screwing Wesley Rich? My God, Milly, have you lost your mind? You know what diseases he must carry. I can’t believe you would do this to Liam. And why didn’t you tell me about Wesley?”
“Because he’s just a friend. I don’t know what Liam’s told you, but yes, we are now in a relationship. Liam and I are over. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to tell you, but I don’t want to expose this just yet. It will not be good for my career. I hope you understand that.”
I can hear her breathing on the line, Phoebe’s wrath of fury ready to unleash.
“I don’t know who you are anymore. You said you wouldn’t become one of them. You cheat on your boyfriend and with the worst possible guy. Next, you’ll be snorting lines and shooting up like your new boyfriend.”
“That’s uncalled for!” A waiter walking past turns my way, quickly moving on with his head bowed. “You don’t know Wesley. Just because you read it doesn’t mean it’s true. I haven’t changed. Maybe you’ve changed. I have to go now.”
“Well, just to make you feel better, Liam is fucking Sienna, the hot blonde from the pub.”
“Thanks a lot,” I respond rudely. “I have to go.” I hang up the phone without haste, letting out an annoying huff. How dare she say those things to me? Despite our close friendship, her words are mean and hurtful. I turn the corner in a fluster, only to be blocked by a man. I don’t recall seeing him before, older yet dashing in his black tuxedo.
“You must be Wesley’s new girlfriend. Gina told me all about you.” He extends his hand with an inviting smile. “I’m Carson Cole. Gina’s husband.”
“Oh, right.” I return the gesture, ignoring the fact that he holds onto my hand much longer than I anticipated. “Wesley’s stepfather. Have you seen him around by chance?”
He’s standing awfully close to me, making me somewhat uncomfortable.
“I haven’t, but you know, Wesley isn’t one to commit. Take it from me, darling, you don’t want to put all your eggs in that basket. You’re a pretty girl.” He glances rather obviously at my chest, his breathing fast-paced.
“I should probably go find him.”
Carson grabs my arm, a little forceful. “Why don’t we go find him together? I think I saw him upstairs.”
“How about you let go of my arm?” I point out, biting down to stop myself from screaming. “I have to go.”
I turn left, unsure where I’m heading. It’s a dead-end, making me anxious as I know Carson’s close by. A door opens, a waiter exiting what looks like the kitchen with a tray full of canapés. I go inside, zig-zagging between the kitchen staff busily preparing meals. The other entrance opens to a small patio where a few people are standing around smoking. I scramble through the grass, stilettos digging into the dirt until I’m back at the front.
Wesley is beside the fountain, a young woman in front of him standing rather close. I stop fast in my tracks, watching them from afar. I can only see her physique from behind—curvy backside in a tight white dress that stops just short of her ass. If it were any shorter, I’m certain her anatomy could be seen by everyone here at the party.
The pumps she wears are gold and strappy, wrapping around her ankle and reaching her mid-calf. Her figure is slim, and exactly how the magazines depict actresses. No doubt she is one.
I do, however, admire the color of her hair. A bright-colored red that’s paper straight and falls just above her waist. Though my gut is telling me I shouldn’t be admiring a woman who has casually placed her hand on my boyfriend’s chest.
Wesley seems agitated, removing her hand abruptly and lighting up a smoke. “Fuck off. What are you doing here?”
“Stop the games. Let’s go… c’mon, a quick fuck upstairs. You can take me up the ass… I know you love it that way.”
Wesley smiles, my stomach swarming with this sick feeling from his enthusiasm. This isn’t the way to start a relationship. I could butt in, interrupt this so-called hookup, or I can act mature and trust my boyfriend.
I so want to trust him.
His smile becomes a sinister laugh. “I took you up the ass, so I didn’t have to look at your face. Go away.”
The woman attempts to slap his face, but Wesley is quick to hold her back.
“You asshole!” she shouts, defiant and stomping her feet. “The last time you chose to act like this, you paid a very high price, Wesley. I’m not sure you want to make the same mistake again.”
“Sweetheart…” he touches her face, admiring her lips with a longing gaze, “… you are the mistake. You’re everyone’s mistake. Now carry on, I’m sure Carson is waiting for you in his office. I’ve heard he likes young ass, too. Right up your alley.”
Her words are jumbled, and with an irritated huff, she disappears back inside the house, leaving Wesley alone. Whatever I just witnessed, seems surreal. It’s like I walked onto the set of a soap opera. People sleeping with random people. Deceit. Lies. This isn’t me.
No, me is hanging out with my best friend back home, lying on the grass out back and counting the stars while we consume large bags of marshmallows and discuss Phoebe marrying a prince of some small country which leads her to become a queen. Foolish, out of this world but nevertheless, it’s what we did.
Tonight is too much for me. The events, the people, losing my best friend, and Wesley’s promiscuous ways. I can’t rid myself of the ill-feeling that nestles its way and sits in the pit of my stomach. It might be the shrimp, but I know deep down it’s more than that.
This, all of this, is another world to me. It terrifies me.
And when something drives fear into me, my reaction is always to make it go away. Do whatever it takes. Taking slow breaths, I walk toward the fountain.
Wesley’s eyes meet mine with an annoyed expression. “I’ve been looking for you,” he barks, irritated.
“Not hard, I assume. Can we go now?”
A gust of wind blows between us. Wesley’s expression softens as he puts his arms around my waist and pulls me into him. “Yeah, sure. Are you okay?”
“Just not my thing,” I lie, coupled with a forced smile. “Let’s have some fun. Take me somewhere fun.”
It’s as if he knows what I need is to escape reality. A sardonic grin spreads across his handsome face, his intentions anything but good.
“You want to have fun? I know just the place…”
Chapter Sixteen
Wesley Rich is on a mission.
My heels drag across the dirt with my balance compromised as he pulls my hand, stopping at a locked fence. There’s a large padlock hanging off the latch, and a sign that reads No Trespassing.
Between balancing a smoke in the corner of his mouth and trying to break the latch, he’s getting nowhere.
Inside my purse sits a pocketknife. An impromptu purchase during my first night here. Removing it from the secret compartment, I slide the knife out and jimmy the lock until the latch opens.
“How?” Wesley asks, scratching his head in confusion.
“Do I know how to break a lock? Let’s just say back in high school, I had this constant need to hang out under the bleachers.”
He tilts his head with an impressed grin. “So much I have to learn about you. But for now, you wanted fun… I will give you fun.”
I follow his lead, keeping close, with my eyes searching the surroundings. The sign outside says Funland Amusement Park. It’s no Disneyland, just a small booth at the front and some rides scattered around the field.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“You said somewhere fun. This is called Funland, so why the hell not?”
<
br /> His hand disappears into the pocket of his jacket, and moments later, he removes a flask. I don’t want to know what’s inside.
After tonight’s phone call from Phoebe and Carson’s sleazy moves—which I decide to keep from Wesley so as to not anger him—I’m more than happy to drink anything and make it all go away.
“Okay, shall we hit the games, first?”
I can barely answer. The spirit I swallow burns my throat and makes my head spin. God, this tastes awful. It almost makes me dry heave, yet I manage to stomach whatever sits inside that flask.
I don’t know why he bothers to ask me what I want to do, since he does what he wants anyway, pulling the tarpaulin off the game and finding a switch nearby. The clown’s head turns on, eerily moving in the dead of the night while Wesley laughs and shoves balls in its mouth.
“Everyone’s a winner, right?” He climbs over the clown’s head, a large thump sounding when his feet hit the metal floor. “Take a pick, my lady,” he says, bowing.
“We can’t steal that.”
Minutely shaking his head with an annoyed expression, he yanks some bills out of his front pocket, shoving it in the clown’s mouth. “Better? I’ll fucking pay for one. Now pick.”
“Wesley, you don’t have to.”
“So, what if I don’t win it?” Another cigarette makes its way to his mouth, the smoke lingering in the air. “I want to buy it for you.”
“Fine, the purple monkey.”
With a pleased smile, he pulls it off the wall, passing it to me. “Sweet, aren’t I?”
He jumps off the side, spinning around like a crazed lunatic. “If only life is like this… an amusement park. Laughing all day long. Cotton candy on tap.”
“I’m sure there’s a downside to it,” I say out loud, without thinking.
“Why do you have to be so cynical?”
“Uh… hello? Pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Vigorously shaking his head, he finishes the remnants of the flask, following with a satisfied moan. “Now, you wanted to have fun. Have fun with me.” He grabs my hand, taking the monkey and placing it on the ground, bringing me closer to his body and leading me into a waltz, right in the middle of the amusement park while he sings Barry Manilow’s Can’t Smile Without You. It’s corny, cheesy, yet perfect at this moment.
“You’re crazy.” I laugh as he dips me. “Who would have thought you were a closet Barry lover?”
“And you’re beautiful. Just for tonight, be crazy with me.”
I laugh again, spinning around. “There, crazy enough for you?”
He shakes his head, determined for me to let loose and be wild. “You can do better than that.”
I look around us. There’s a bumper car lot on the right, but bumper cars aren’t exactly living on the edge. In front, are a few kiddie rides, and beside them, a spinning octopus. It isn’t the ride that catches my attention, it’s the crazy adventure house beside it, standing tall, oddly-shaped mirrors in front with stairs and a spinning circle on top. It reminds me of the movie Grease when Sandy gets her groove on at the end.
“Okay, you want crazy? I’ll give you crazy.” I pull his hand, leading him to the adventure house.
The mirrors show our reflection as we walk past while our bodies morph from abnormally short and fat to tall and skinny. We both laugh at ourselves, moving inside where the ground becomes uneven, and it’s incredibly dark. The moonlight provides limited light, but I don’t care. My adrenaline is high, something that often happens whenever I’m around him.
My hands clutch onto his shirt, pulling his body to mine, allowing me to bring his lips closer. The beat of my heart quickens while his lips warm mine and taste so goddamn good.
“I don’t know what it is when I’m with you…” I breathe between kisses, lost in this man who’s consumed me in a way I’ve never experienced, “… you’re so—”
“Bad?”
“Yes,” I pant.
“And I’m nothing like you’ve ever had.”
“Yes,” I repeat, running my hands through his hair.
The warmth of his lips leaves mine, his body now distant with a bitter smile. “I thought you were different.”
The loss of contact leaves me uneasy. It takes me a moment to respond. “What kind of a question is that?”
“It’s not a question,” he responds, flatly.
Adjusting my dress that hitched up during our heated kiss, I straighten my posture, trying to get a hold of myself. “Maybe I should go.”
“I thought you were different.”
“What does that even mean? Different from who? Okay, so I love to read and would rather spend my night playing Monopoly. This isn’t my scene tonight. So, I’m different, who cares? The world needs different. Not everyone can be like you and Emerson.” The words come out harsh, not at all as I intended. I’m frustrated we’re even having this conversation when a minute earlier I was caught up in the best make-out session I’ve ever had.
“Do you think you’re the first girl who’s called me bad and told me I’m like no other man you’ve been with?”
“No…” I trail off, pausing. “But it’s the truth. You’re bad… for me. Every part of me says not to be with you. You will hurt me, and I’ll end up with a broken heart and have to move back home because I can’t deal with the shame. You’re not like any man I’ve been with. The last four years I’ve spent with Liam. Liam’s caring. He’s kind. He doesn’t have a bad bone in his body.”
“And I’m none of those things,” he answers, smugly. “I don’t fucking care about anyone, right?”
“What do you want me to say?” I throw my hands up with frustration. “I can’t seem to win. If you want the truth, this is it. You’re not Liam. You’re Wesley. The guy who’s gotten on my nerves and crawled under my skin. The same guy I haven’t stopped thinking about every day since that day in the café. The same guy I’ve fantasized being with not because he’s bad but because he does something to me, this butterfly sick-to-the-stomach feeling. The thought of your hands all over me makes me want to throw all caution to the wind and live for this moment.”
“I’m right here,” he whispers, closing the gap between us.
“I know you are.”
The tip of his finger runs down my cheekbone and across my bottom lip. My eyes close—focusing on my internal sensations—controlling my breathing while his gentle touch consumes me. With a slight tilt, his mouth has found mine, the warm feeling and taste of desire find me again.
This slow, sensual pace heightens all my senses until he pushes me against the wall, slamming our bodies together, his tongue feverishly battling with mine.
I pull away to catch a quick breath, gulping for air as if my life depends on it.
“You’re bad for me.” His face is buried in my chest, kissing my skin eagerly. “Too innocent.”
“A little innocence never hurt anyone.” I latch onto his shirt, pulling him up so I can taste his lips again. “Good girls can turn bad, too.”
“No,” he breathes with a silent plea in his tone. “Your innocence is sexy. In fact, a fucking turn-on.”
I grin, touching his cheek softly. “Oh really?”
“Shhh, stop talking. I need to fuck you now.”
I’m falling for him.
Into this blissful moment as his hands wander across my body, each part he hasn’t touched is begging to be noticed.
The wall is sticky, and my dress gets caught against the rough edge. I don’t care. I want him—here and now.
His palms slide under my dress, against my thighs with a slow, burning ache. My body reacts to him, grinding against his hardness and dry-humping him between our clothes, which suddenly become a nuisance.
I fumble with his buttons, wanting to expose his chest and run my hands against his skin. Though the lighting is reduced, the desire in his eyes burns through me as I spread apart his shirt and admire the view. He’s
just like I imagined—ripped, muscles in all the right places, and so very manly.
There are several tattoos on his chest, but I can barely make out the images.
My hands move of their own accord, against his chest, circling his nipple as he moans softly into the air. I’ve never experienced this type of lust, the need to have my way with him like a fantasy has come alive.
The grip of his hands is tight against my ass. Small, yet forceful squeezes until he lifts me, and my legs wrap around his waist for support.
“You’re so goddamn sexy when you’re begging for it.”
I grab his belt buckle that begins to dig into me, unbuckling it quickly and unzipping his pants. Balancing against the wall, fumbling for his pants and losing myself in his ravenous kisses becomes exhausting.
“I’m not the one begging for it…” I pant, so out of breath, my throat’s dry, “… you are.”
Wesley laughs into my mouth while a grin forms on my tired face from this game we play.
“Is that so?”
I pull his hair, detaching his mouth from mine to give him a nod. The more we play this game, the more turned on I become. I feel him everywhere. I want him everywhere on me.
He rests his forehead against mine, breathing onto my face as we both take a moment to catch ourselves.
“I don’t think you’ve ever had a taste of something as Rich. Don’t think for a second that bad boy means you’ll be left unsatisfied… quite the contrary. I can guarantee you that afterward, baby… you’ll continue begging for more.”
My eyes lock onto his, desperate for him to enter me. As we take this moment to stare at each other, his reflection is precisely how I imagined he would be—wild, uncensored, and uncaring of what else is happening outside the world of us.
Keeping his gaze fixed on mine, he runs his hand along my chest, sliding into my dress and cupping my breast. I’m holding in a breath, stopping myself from finishing all because of his touch. When I think I’ve got myself under control, he narrows his grip into a pinch and squeezes my nipple.
The agony, and yet pleasure, spread through me, my back arching from this delightful pain.