Page 40 of Monster's Edge
“I needed a break from the noise.”
“The party has barely started.”
“My dad told me not to talk to you very much tonight.”
There. I said it. I shouldn’t have, but I did. Ian’s expression changes as the words sink in. He smirks just a little.
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“Why doesn’t he want you talking to me?”
“He said you have your eye on me.”
“I do. That’s not a secret.”
Now it’s my turn to be curious. At first, I thought Ian just wanted to fuck me and use me. Now I wonder if there’s more to the situation. Perhaps there’s something I’m not understanding.
“Why?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
“I do.”
“You’re beautiful,” he says simply, as if that explains it. I’m sure that there are things about me that are pretty or nice. I dance a lot, so my body is somewhat muscular. I love pasta and every type of carb every invented, so my muscles are covered with a soft layer of pudge. I like to think of my tummy as being a little bit squishy, like a marshmallow. He doesn’t seem to mind.
Still, I’m not call beautiful very often. This is a word I’ve certainly never heard at home. My dad doesn’t tell me I’m beautiful. My mother never did, either.
“That’s a strange thing to call me,” I tell him.
“What would you prefer I call you?”
Little slut.
The words jump into my mind before I can control myself, before I can tamp that excitement down. Ian’s eyes darken just a little bit, though. Surely he can’t read my mind. He doesn’t know what I’m thinking.
“You can just call me Rose,” I lie.
“I don’t think that’s what you want to be called.”
“It is.”
“Don’t make me choke you again,” he says. Then, he licks his lips and adds, “slut.”
And I fucking melt.
I reach for him, grabbing his cheeks and pulling him toward me. I kiss him desperately, anxiously, hurriedly. Embarrassment washes over me, but I don’t care. We’re in my dad’s home, kissing in a hallway I’m not even sure we’re supposed to be in, and there are cameras everywhere. We could be caught so easily, but I don’t care anymore. My pussy wants what it wants.
Ian.
It wants Ian.
He kisses me back hungrily with a callous disregard for the sanctity of another man’s home. Ian doesn’t give a shit who my father is or what he wants from us tonight. The only thing he cares about is kissing me, too. A hand slides up my dress and beneath my panties. Before I know what’s happening to me, Ian is finger-fucking me into oblivion. My pussy was already wet when I kissed him and it’s absolutely soaked now. My dress is going to get ruined if I’m not careful, but right now, I don’t want to be careful.
I want to be bad and wild.
I want to have fun with him.
