Chapter 4

FOUR

I lean back, pushing away from the table, my legs falling open as I drape my arm over the back of my chair. “Eh,” I croak, purposely shrugging with indifference.

“It’s cute when you pretend not to care, but the grip you’ve had on that poor fork throughout this entire meal says otherwise.” She grins, resting her elbows on the table, forcing her already ample cleavage further together, making her look fucking edible. “Spoiler alert, I have my nipples pierced. I can be a lady and just show you if you want. That way you don’t have to strain yourself to get a peek, Coley.”

I slam my fist on the table. She jumps back a little bit, but she’s not afraid. She knows she is getting under my skin. She’s fucking turned on by it. Which is turning me on. “Don’t call me that,” I grit out.

Her hands raise in a forced and phony defeat. “Fine. The Coley part was a joke, but I was serious about showing you my tits if you ask like a good boy.” She winks and I roll my eyes. “He’s right you know,” she states so matter-of-factly it makes my blood boil.

I nudge my head forward, eyes bulging. “About?”

“He asked if you fixed the cameras, Colson. But you were staring out into space.” The glee that’s plastered on her face as she purposely drags out each fucking syllable of my name is equal parts maddening as it is erotic.

Playing it cool, not giving her the reaction, she wants, I rise, flattening both palms to anchor my stance. Even standing hunched over across the table from where she sits, I tower over her, and assuming from the way she’s clamping her thighs together, I’m confident she likes it too.

“I heard him,” I grit, through clenched teeth.

“Didn’t seem like it to me. Maybe you should get your hearing checked,” she smirks, challenging me.

Fine. If she wants to play, then let’s fucking play.

Straightening my spine, I make my way to the other side of the long oak table. Closer to her. I continue to walk until I’m standing behind her. My hands latch onto either side of her chair, allowing me to settle my stubbled mouth at the side of her face. Her blonde hair caressing my cheek. “Trust me, my hearing is just fine, dirty girl,” I grit, my lips teasing the shell of her ear. I keep my eyes on the sliver of skin exposed on her shoulder, watching how it prickles to life with my proximity.

Her lips pop, a gust of trapped air bursting from her mouth. I click my tongue, continuing. “Or wait, what were you begging my brother to call you the other night? Whore? No, no, that’s not it. Ah yes, I remember now. I believe it was last night that I heard you, loud and clear, banging that pretty little head of yours against the headboard, asking—no, begging—him to call you a filthy fucking whore. Isn’t that right?” I taunt. Straightening her spine, she swallows, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the way even her fucking saliva sounds traveling down her throat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lies, keeping her gaze forward, refusing to look at me.

Shifting from where I tower over her, I sink my weight onto the table, seating myself right in front of her. My hand travels to her chin, capturing it in my palm, forcing her to look at me. Fucking Christ, her skin feels like ecstasy trapped within my grip. My mind drifts. Temptation. Primal, unfiltered, illogical temptation plagues me, as I fantasize how good her body would feel pressed beneath mine, stretching her with every inch of my cock, providing her with no other option but to submit herself to me, one painstakingly erotic cry at a time. My dick springs to life at the thought, and this proximity is only making the craving I have for her intensify.

Squeezing her cheeks tighter, I lower my chin, meeting her gaze with mine, those red stained lips suddenly trapped between her teeth as she bites on them.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she likes how my hands feel on her.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Take this as a lesson to mind your fucking business when my brother and I are talking,” I warn, increasing the pressure on her hollowed cheeks. I fight the temptation to slip one of my fingers into her mouth so she can suck it like the filthy slut I know she is. Instead, I opt to behave. Let her squirm a bit.

Loosening my hold on her she grabs for my hand, kneading my palm.

“Or what? Are you going to spank me?” She pouts.

What a fucking brat.

“No, you’d like that too much. But mark my words–” I begin when I’m suddenly distracted by a wet, warm sensation. I glance down and see that she has taken the liberty of sliding my finger that was just squeezing her cheek…into her fucking mouth.

Her cheeks hollow around my digit as she sucks it deeper. Her eyes fluttering shut, and a moan erupts from her throat, vibrating against my finger.

Thrown off, I open my mouth to speak, but all that comes out is hot air. Not a word, not a gasp…nothing. For once in my life, I’m stunned. I wait, prisoner to her wet, skillful mouth until the grip she has on me loosens as she pops my finger free.

“What the fu–” I begin, but she lifts her other hand, pressing her raised index finger to my mouth.

“Shh,” she whispers.

Teasingly, she crawls that same finger to my chin before creeping it down my neck, landing on my fucking Adam’s apple. She pokes at the protruding cartilage, and the pressure feels like foreplay, making me want more even though I shouldn’t.

I clear my throat, but she moves her finger lower, her hand now wrapped around the collar of my shirt. She guides her mouth to my ear and obediently I wait to listen, despite my better judgment.

“Good boy,” she coos.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” I scoff.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t call you something you’re not. Let me instead tell you what you are though,” she pauses, clearly for dramatic effect. Typical.

“Please, I’m dying to know,” I drone.

Pulling me in closer, she clicks her tongue. “You are a fucking moron. Gutsy, but an epic moron, nonetheless. Threaten me again or attempt to put me in my “place” again, and that finger I was just sucking on will be chewed to pieces, by my fucking teeth. Do I make myself clear?” she warns, letting go of my shirt, and even her threat is laced in seduction.

I adjust my collar. “Whatever,” I grumble, turning away from her, refusing to look back.

I need to get the fuck away from her. Not only do I not trust her, but I also don’t trust myself around her.

I make my way to the threshold of the dining room leading out to the hallway. I’m practically there, mere steps away from leaving her alone in the dining room, when a throaty scoff sounds, forcing my attention back. And like before, my gaze settles on her ample cleavage.

“Eyes up here, big boy.” She snaps her finger, lifting my attention from her tits to her eyes. “Much better,” she praises, voice dripping with condescension. “I was just looking out for you and making sure you were listening to him, since you seemed distracted. No need to be so hostile. Next time your brother needs to tell you something important, I’ll make sure he does it while he’s railing me. Maybe then you’ll pay more attention,” she taunts, making my blood boil. “That is, if you don’t blow your load first.”

This fucking woman, I swear to god.

“I’d watch it if I were you,” I rasp, my anger on the verge of becoming unhinged rage.

“Or what, Colson?” She settles her lips into a tempting pout. This is dangerous. She’s challenging me. I like being challenged. “Are you going to talk dirty and call your brother’s girlfriend a filthy fucking whore, pretending it’s an insult when you and I both know you’re jealous you can’t call me that whenever you want?”

Raising my hand, I point an accusatory finger at her, but all it does is fuel her more. “Watch yourself,” I warn again.

A soft chuckle breaks from her lips as she rises from her seat, that perfect ass shaking with every step as she makes her way to the bar. “Likewise,” she retorts, eerily calm.

I stand, dumbfounded by the audacity of this woman as she makes herself at home, pouring herself a heaping glass of champagne. Seriously, she’s a savage. She isn’t even using a champagne flute. There is a literal goblet in her hand, filled to the brim with Dom Pérignon.

“Special occasion?” I poke, clearly unable to stop engaging with her.

Ignoring me, she stands with her voluptuous backside turned to me, she takes a long sip, swirling the goblet of champagne, forcing my gaze to the large tattoo that covers the top of her tanned hand. Flowers surround a black and gray coffin, while snakes with split tongues and beady red eyes fall down all five fingers. It’s beautiful and angry looking, just like her.

After what feels like an eternity, she finally turns around. Taking another sip of champagne, a droplet misses her mouth, sliding down her chin. She waits until the alcohol hits her neck and, as it slithers its way onto her chest, she drags her finger to where the booze slides down her cleavage, retrieving it.

A breathy whimper leaks from her lips, and my cock aches painfully in response, watching the way she teases the back of her throat with her finger before bringing her wet digit to the tip of her pierced tongue.

“Hmmm,” she hums, moving closer, popping her finger out of her mouth.

Taking another step towards me, she leans her petite frame against the molding that lines the threshold of the dining room, eliminating any space between us.

“Very,” she deadpans, causing confusion to stir within my system.

“Huh?”

“You asked me if it’s a special occasion. It is.”

Before I can ask what she means by that, I hear Brett’s voice down the hall, coming back from wherever he took his phone call.

“We can discuss tomorrow,” Brett says into the phone. His voice, carrying from down the long hall, still a considerable distance away.

“Whatever,” I mutter just as the scent of champagne and coconut invades my every sense.

I peer down and notice her soft hand is pinching the skin of my wrist.

“Patético pendejo,” she whispers. The feeling of her warm breath grazing the shell of my ear creeps its way to my cock, intensifying the throbbing want that’s been building by the minute.

But before I can respond to whatever she just said, her petite hand has traveled lower, grazing the bulge between my legs. Tempting me. Teasing me to fucking oblivion.

“Mmm,” she moans in a hushed whisper. “I didn’t know standing so close to what you can’t have could make you so hard.” She’s practically boasting. It’s like she’s getting off on fondling my fucking balls through my pants.

I glance over to where Brett is still mumbling on his phone, taking his sweet time walking back to the dining room before I look back to her.

Her grip intensifies, curling her taut fist around one of the five barbells I have scattered about my cock, not including the fresh hafada piercing I just got.

I tip my chin down, admiring how good it feels to tower over her. “I don’t want you,” I lie.

Giving me another squeeze, she loosens her hold to skim her hand down my half-hardened length. Her eyes light up as she continues running her hand down my trapped shaft, noticing how much her hand still has to travel to reach the tip.

“Oh, look at that. Every time you lie to my face, pretending you don’t want to be buried between my thighs, it gets even harder. Yum,” she adds.

“Go suck a dick,” I bite. My brother’s presence now fills my periphery, quickly approaching this bizarre standoff.

Letting go, she crosses her arms in front of her torso, and just like that, that vixen attitude, that intense banter, all of it disappears before my eyes and quiet, reserved, Sally returns.

She’s a witch, she has to be. How can someone turn their personality on and off like that?

“Oh, I plan on it. Why don’t you stick around and watch how your brother fills my mouth?” she sneers, in a lusty tone that I want nothing more than to squeeze out of her.

My fist tightens at my side. “The fu-” I begin but my brother’s presence deters me.

Unable to soften the aggravated stiffness of my jaw, I look at him.

“Sorry about that,” Brett interjects.

“It’s fine. I was just about to head outside for a smoke,” I mutter, trying to get my wits about me.

“Oh, c’mon little bro.” Fucking Christ, I hate when he calls me that. “We didn’t have dessert yet,” he laughs and for once, I detect a dash of awkwardness, as if he’s finally cued in on the tension between Sally and me.

Sally moves to his side, reaching for his hand and bringing it to her lips, pressing a kiss to his skin. “That’s okay baby, we don’t need him to finish.” She grins, eyes searing through me.

“Yep, she’s right. Me finishing with you guys wouldn’t be a good idea,” I respond, not even looking at my brother. “Someone may choke on their dessert. See ya.” I motion my hand upward in a half assed wave, immediately walking away so I’m no longer subjected to whatever bizarre shit is in the air in that damn dining room.

I need a hit or ten of the pre-roll waiting for me. Reaching for my phone, I swipe and tap on the web browser. Grief hits me hard, wishing I’d paid attention more when mom was alive trying to teach me Spanish, because then I wouldn’t have to rely on google to let me know what the fuck a pendejo is.