I pluck invisible lint from my chest. “Well, I’m Vivienne’s step brother. The girls are always at the house, so I’m privy to their plans.” I hate that I just played that card, and that it was a lie nonetheless. Vivienne has had Brooke over once. Ricky just twice. And the two of us go to extreme lengths to avoid each other, to do the right thing.
“Should we wait til they get out of the bathroom and make some shit up?”
One guy takes off his tuxedo jacket, wiping sweat from the back of his neck. “No, fuck that, if they were trying to bag us, lets leave. They’ll figure it out when they can’t go inside.”
“You reserved rooms?” I question, acting impressed but in reality, I need to figure out which rooms. I could also use another drink, because as my fuzz fades, the high settles in, dulling my decision making skills. I don’t know how Fab gets such good grades smoking all the time. If Viv wasn’t on theline right now, I think I’d be staring at the wall contemplating the universe.
“My dad did. Even had them stocked with champagne.”
I press my finger into his chest. “Go get your champagne, dude. Don’t let that go to waste.” I nod toward the corridor of doors. “I’ll be on the lookout while you guys get the bottles from the rooms.”
The three of them exchange a quick glance before heading toward the rooms. Murray uses his phone to open the first door, and while the other two follow him in, I flip the lock on the door, making sure it stays open. They rush out, laughing, two bottles clinking together as they move to the next door. I repeat the process, and by the time they come to the third door, I nudge Murray, redirecting him, saying, “I heard there are some seniors from Constance down by the pool.”
After three individual fist bumps, they leave. For once, men thinking they are the center of the universe has been advantageous for me. Thinking on my feet, I complete my plan, running into the first two rooms, writing a note in each.
Get undressed and wait for me. I went for more alcohol.
Next, I leave a note on room 3’s door, writingRickyon it. The note on room 2’s door saysBrooke, leaving room 1 with a note that saysVivienne.
I slip into room 1 and out of my suit jacket, finding the mini bar immediately. Murray’s dad is gonna foot the bill for this, and maybe tomorrow I’ll feel guilty about that, but tonight? Tonight I feel fucking brilliant for… for what?
For coming here to forget her and orchestrating the entire night to instead lead us to each other? What am I doing? I can’t even blame the weed or booze, because in mygut, I want her more than I’ve wanted anything. It’s irrational and physical but I can’t help it.
But I don’t have time to spin out, because a soft knock comes at the barely cracked door. A soft knock followed by a velvety, “hello?”
“It’s open,” I call, not disguising my voice but not recognizing it, either. Raw. Deep. On the brink of shattering, that’s how I sound, and it’s how I feel, too.
But with one easy lie tonight, I’ve rearranged everything to have her, when I’m supposed to be doing the opposite.
And even now, her black strappy heels clicking against the floor as she moves toward me, I would do it all again. In a heartbeat. Without a doubt.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on my spread knees, my breath catches as her silhouette appears. “Should I turn on the light?” she asks, reaching for the Tiffany lamp on the bureau.
“No,” I reply, still not trying to disguise my voice at all. This is when I should stand up, move toward her, take her in my arms and dip her in front of the seaside window, let the moonlight expose me for a second before I seal my mouth to hers and show her why we’re both here.
I should.
But I don’t.
I tug off my necktie, her eyes on me through the shadows. I feel them on my hands, watching, studying, waiting. “Turn around,” I tell her. When she obeys, I get to my feet, not touching her as I come to stand behind her. I pull my tie down over her eyes, tying it at the back of her head, swiping gently at the pieces of hair that try to get tied up in the silk. When the blindfold is on, I spin her to face me.
“Can I take off your dress?” I ask her, my cock already hard and heavy between my thighs. This is wrong on so many levels. I should tell her it's me. I should tell her how I feel, I should tell her we could go to our parents.
But I don’t.
She nods, and I unzip her dress, exposing a laced bodice corset beneath. Was she wearing this for him? Does she normally wear this under fancy dresses? Jealousy renders me motionless for a minute as I hold her zipper in one hand, staring at her lingerie covered back.
“Is… everything okay?” she finally asks, snapping me out of my fog. I smooth my knuckles down her bare back, then over the delicate filigree of her corset. A shiver rolls through her, and I bring my hand to the side of her neck, placing a kiss at the top of her spine.
“Perfect,” I finally reply, taking my time sliding each strap of the dress off of her shoulders. When the dress is between her feet on the floor, I spin her to face me, falling breathless at the sight.
The tips of her nipples, hardened with desire, poke against the lace fabric, the white color only reminding me of her age and innocence. I deflowered my step sister, I took her virginity, and I’m about to have her again. The first time she didn’t know who we were to each other, and neither did I. But this time? I know it’s her and she doesn’t know it’s me.
It’s unfair but it’s the only way I can have her. It’s the only way she’d let herself have me, for that matter.
It’s wrong to keep going, but I don’t know how to stop.
I bring my hands to her breasts and squeeze, the crotch of my tuxedo growing exceptionally tight as her soft whimper feathers against my chin. Carefully I drop to myknees, dragging my hands along her curves on the way down. Holding her hips, I bring my nose to her pussy and inhale her scent. Tangy and sweet, I can almost guarantee she’s wet. This is how I remember her smelling that night on the beach. Glancing out the window, I catch sight of the ocean lapping at the shore, the white foam curling the dark sand, the moon glowing high in the onyx sky. So much of this night is like the first night, with just enough things different to make it wrong. To make what I’m doing wrong.
