“You’re an asshole,” I return, about to turn on my heel and walk away from him, but he grabs me.
Stops me.
His fingers sink into my flesh, his grip extra tight on my upper arm and I struggle against his hold, trying to get rid of him. “Let me go.”
“No.” He smirks, and I idly realize he’s the devil hiding behind an angel baby’s face. He shoves me against the wall and I fall against it like a rag doll, nearly sliding to the floor. He grabs hold of me before I land, yanking me up, and presses his body against mine. He towers over me, at least six feet tall, but he’s lean. Skinny. Yates is broader. Meatier. But he’s sixteen. Older.
This boy is just that.
Still a boy.
“What are you doing?” I ask as I struggle against him. Doing so makes me feel him and I’m intrigued. He’s hard everywhere. Solid. Stronger than he looks.
“I think you like it.” The smirk is still there and when he presses his lower body against me, I can feel something else.
He’s got a hard-on.
I go completely still, unable to move.
“Your mom sucks my dad off at least twice a week,” he whispers. “She meets him in his office. They call it lunch.”
I gape at him. I have no idea what he’s talking about. I mean, I know what he’s referring to, but there’s no way she does that.
No. Way.
“You have dick sucking lips,” he tells me, and I almost bloom under the compliment, before I tell myself I’m sick and messed up, and he meant it as an insult.
“Shut up,” I whisper, and he smiles.
“Want to suck mine?”
“Absolutely not.” I tilt my chin, sounding like a haughty princess.
What would it be like, sucking a boy’s dick? Girls do it. All the time. I found a magazine in Yates’s room once, and snuck it back into mine. Photos of naked girls. Couples caught in mid-position. His penis inside her vagina. His mouth on her nipples. His penis inside her mouth as she stares up at him, doe-eyed and with her fingers between her legs.
I think of that now and heady warmth unfurls deep within me, making me weak.
Or maybe that’s the champagne.
“You might like it,” he says with the faintest smile. His teeth are perfectly straight. I bet when he really smiles, he’s beautiful.
Pretty sure he doesn’t smile much though.
“I won’t,” I tell him firmly.
“Ever done it before?”
I furiously shake my head.
“Let me be your first.”
“No.” I shove at his shoulders, but he doesn’t budge.
“Come on. Your mom is my dad’s whore. You could be mine too.” He inclines his head toward the closed doors in the darkened hallway. “Like I said, they’re in one of those rooms right now. I bet your mom is on her knees for him.” He sneers. “I bet she swallows every drop of my dad’s cum. You could do the same for me.”
“Fuck you.” His words are infuriating but also the faintest bit tantalizing. I’ve never thought of cum and swallowing and dicks in my mouth while talking to a boy. No one has ever spoken to me like this before.
No one.
He laughs. “No, fuck you. Your family is fucked up.”
“Uh, I think it’s your family that’s fucked up,” I tell him, thrusting my hips against his to get him off me.
It doesn’t help at all. Just reminds me that he’s hard. And I can’t help but think that he’s hard for me.
I have friends who’ve had sex already. Lana did it with David in the gym during our eighth-grade graduation dance. She told us later she walked funny for a week, his dick was so big. I had a hard time believing her, but said nothing.
Now I’m curious. This boy’s dick seems large, not that I have much to compare it to. I want to see it.
Touch it.
“Let me go,” I say through clenched teeth, struggling a little. I think he likes it. I sort of like it too. His strength. How I’m too weak to break free. What does this say about me? I’m sick. Twisted. Weird.
I’ve always had what I call ‘the darkness.’ I’ve never met someone who acts like he has it too.
He leans in close, his mouth mere inches from mine, and I can feel his breath. It’s warm, and smells faintly of beer. “Make me.”
Going on pure instinct, I part my lips, readying to scream, and he knows it.
So he kisses me instead.
It’s harsh, a shock to the system, and I go completely still. His lips mash against mine, lacking skill, though I’m not particularly skilled either. But I know it can be better than this. Softer than this.
I purse my lips around his lower one, tugging on it. He slows. Relaxes. The kiss turns languid. His tongue darts out, surprising me. I part my lips, and his tongue touches mine.
My first grown-up kiss is with a boy who calls my mother a whore. Who said I could be his whore. I should shove him away. Bite his tongue in half. Knee him in the balls.
I don’t do any of that. Instead, I let him kiss me, and God help me, I enjoy it. Warmth spreads through my veins, warming me from the inside out, and I cling to him. His hands are on my waist. I clutch the front of his shirt. His erection jerks against me, and that secret spot I’ve recently discovered tingles.
This is what Yates wants from me. The disgusting pervert. I will never give this to him, because we’re family, and that’s gross.
But the more this mystery boy kisses me, the more I’m willing to consider giving him whatever he wants.
We kiss for so long I don’t know how we’re able to breathe. Finally, finally, he ends it first and I open my eyes, staring at his parted, swollen lips. Slowly I lift my gaze to find him watching me.
He reaches for the hem of my skirt, his fingers shooting beneath it to touch the inside of my thigh and I bite my lower lip. “Are you wet?”
“What are you talking about?” I know, but he’s so freaking young. Like me. We know sex is happening. We have access to all the porn on the internet, but still.
He talks to me like an adult. The boys I know won’t even touch my boobs, and this guy is going straight to the spot between my legs.
“Like you don’t know.” He sounds disgusted, and I’m about to say something, a protest. An insult.
But he kisses me again, making me forget. This one is better. I guess I taught him well. It’s slow and soft, the drag of his tongue against mine making me ache. He explores my mouth thoroughly, testing me, and I let him. I explore too. Our mouths are open, our tongues teasing, licking at each other, and my entire body tingles with anticipation. Somehow I touch him, my hand on the front of his pants, and he thrusts against my palm, letting me feel how hard he is.
I throb between my thighs and I want to touch myself.
No.
I want him to touch me.
“I don’t even know you,” I whisper against his lips.
He pulls away with an evil smile. “Liar.”
“I don’t.” I’m confused. Why would he think I’m lying about that?
“You’re at my house. My father is one of the richest men in the entire fucking world. ‘Oh, I don’t even know you.’” He’s mocking me, his voice high-pitched. He sounds ridiculous.
Anger fills me. After what just happened, he makes fun of me? I don’t care how good of a kisser he turned into, he’s an asshole.