“Sorry.” My cheeks burn with humiliation and I try to smile, but it just won’t come. “I’ll be right back.”
I flee the room before anyone can say anything to humiliate me further, fully expecting Sylvie to chase after me, but thankfully she doesn’t. I find my escape in the elegantly decorated ladies’ bathroom. I stand at the sink, my shaking hands braced on the white marble counter, staring at myself.
What am I doing here? Why did I come? Did I really think Whit would be happy to see me? Clearly, I’m delusional. I should feign sick the moment we return to the house, and leave in the morning. They won’t want me there if they believe I’m contagious.
Calmed by my new plan, I soap up my hands and wash them, turning away from the sink to dry them under the automatic dryer when I hear the door open and quickly close.
The quiet snick of a lock turning into place.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see Whit, leaning against the door. Watching me. Slowly I turn to face him, my heart racing, my chest heaving with every labored breath.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice deathly quiet.
“Washing my hands,” I say calmly.
A flash of annoyance crosses his beautiful face. He’s freshly shaven and smells crisp. Like fragrant fall air. If I could, I’d crumple to my knees in front of him and beg him to touch me again, but I refuse to be that sort of girl.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” he says, his voice flat.
“Sylvie invited me for the week. She wanted me to spend the holiday with her,” I offer, but he holds up a hand, silencing me.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
His words are like a knife, carving into my stupid and always hopeful heart. You’d think I’d learn by now. “I know,” I say, my voice trembling. “I’ll leave in the morning.”
We stare at each other, the silence, the tension growing between us, making it hard for me to breathe. He pushes away from the door, heading straight for me and I feel like a rabbit who’s been ensnared by its prey. Stalking me as I stand rooted to the spot.
He crowds me, his big hands settling on my hips, his warmth seeping into me. My body lights up, responding to his familiar, devastating touch and I tilt my head back so our gazes meet.
“If I’d known you would be here, I would’ve never—”
Whit presses his lips closed, cutting off whatever else he was going to say to me. And I feel like I need to hear the rest of those words. I need some sort of confirmation that he doesn’t mind finding me here.
But this is most likely wishful thinking on my part. He’s not pleased by my appearance. I’ve probably ruined everything.
“What do you want from me?” I ask, feeling lost. Inept. Being around him, his family, I know I don’t measure up. I’m no Leticia. I’m sure her family is prestigious, while mine is full of scandal. Shameful.
My mother had an affair with his father for God’s sake. We’re the epitome of scandalous.
A gasp escapes me when he grips my hips and pulls me to him. “Be my birthday present,” he demands.
Before I can ask him what he means, his mouth is on mine, the kiss instantly deep. I moan when his tongue licks mine, his hands going to my ass and lifting, settling me on the edge of the counter. He comes to stand between my spread legs, breaking the kiss so he can stare at the space between us.
“I could fuck you right here,” he says, cupping the front of my jeans, his thumb pressing against the seam. It hurts. It feels amazing. “You’re at the perfect height.”
My panties flood with moisture. I want him to fuck me right here. While his parents and the girl he’s brought with him are in the next room. Waiting for us. “Please,” I whisper and he smiles.
In less than a minute, his cock is out and my jeans and panties are down, bunched around my ankles, the marble cold against my butt. He slides inside of me with ease, his eyes falling closed as he pushes himself to the hilt, fitting his body to mine completely. I squeeze my inner walls around him, smiling when he groans.
Whit presses his forehead to mine, completely still, his cock throbbing inside of my body. I wait, suspended in time, unsure of what to do next. He sucks in a deep breath, licking his lips, and begins to move.
He fucks me in earnest. I grip his shoulders, watching him the entire time, completely fascinated by the myriad of emotions I see washing over his handsome face. It gets better between us every single time, I think, as I race my hands over his chest, wishing I was touching his bare skin. His movements become faster, the room filling with the scent of sex, and I moan softly with his every thrust. The drag of his cock in and out of my body makes my belly tighten and when I can’t take it anymore, I close my eyes.
“Fucking beautiful,” he mutters under his breath. “Addicted to your pussy, swear to fucking God.”
He kisses me, his mouth frantic, his tongue insistent. I return the kiss, slinging one arm around his neck, anchoring myself to him. His breaths come faster and he ends the kiss, his face in mine, low grunts falling from his lips, matching the pace of his hips.
“Goddamn,” he says just before he groans, spilling himself inside of me. I can feel his semen flood my body, our harsh breathing loud in the silent room, his body jerking with every wave of his orgasm.
Within seconds, he’s pulling away from me, tucking himself back inside his pants and zipping them up. I sit there in a daze, watching him. My pussy throbs. I feel downright desperate to come, I’m so on edge. As if he can sense it, he reaches out and drags his fingers against my wet slit, stroking me once. “You want to come?”
I nod, wincing when his fingers toy with my swollen clit. “Yes.”
He removes his hand from my body. “Later,” he says with an evil grin.
Just before he turns and exits the bathroom without a backward glance.
Thirty-One
Summer
After I compose myself and wash my hands yet again, I return to the private room where the Lancasters are. I settle into the chair next to Sylvie on shaky legs, hoping no one can tell what just happened to me.
How Whit thoroughly fucked me in the women’s bathroom, and then left me behind wanting more.
“I saved you some bread,” Sylvie says, pushing the bread basket toward me. “Daddy over here was trying to eat it all.”
He grins, chomping into a piece slathered with rich yellow butter. “You know your mother won’t touch the stuff. Someone has to eat it.”
Sylvie giggles. I smile, my gaze cutting to Whit and Leticia.
She’s smiling up at him as he touches her cheek.
With the very hand that was just on my pussy.
I sit up straighter, wondering how in the world she can’t smell me on his fingers. How can she not? Is she that oblivious?
God, he’s such an asshole.
Reaching for my wineglass, I drain the golden liquid in three big swallows. Augustus immediately refills my glass, his warm gaze landing on me, his mouth curled into a barely-there smile. I sense his approval, and it makes me uneasy. So uneasy, I chance a glance in Whit’s direction.
To find him already watching us.
I look away and drink more wine, needing it for strength. Sylvie is already buzzing, I can tell, but I’m sure it doesn’t take much. She weighs nothing.