Filthy Little Pretties Read online

  Her head lifts, and I look up as I eat. I could watch her forever. Donovan coming might be the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. I want to lie in bed all day making her come over and over and never stop watching her. My speed picks up, increasing with every one of her breaths and pleas, fingering her harder and harder.

  “Oh my God. Oh my God. Yes. I’m going to come.”

  Liam alternates between her neck and her breast, kneading and sucking on her nipple as I ramp her up closer and closer to bliss, her eyes on what I’m doing. She’s fucking perfection, riding my finger, hand gripped on the couch, the other on one of her breasts.

  “Is this everything you wanted, Cherry?” Liam whispers into her cheek.

  She doesn’t answer. She can’t. She’s lost to what we’re giving her. Her gaze is locked on me, and I’m struck by this moment. I think she might be everything I’ve ever wanted. Her soft walls start to close in hard around my finger, squeezing, so I slip in another as I lower my mouth back down over her swollen clit and take my final taste. I pound into her with my fingers and flick my tongue faster over her swollen bud, hearing her struggle to catch her breath.

  “Open,” Liam whispers, calling my eyes.

  His finger slips into her mouth, and she grabs his wrist, sucking as his mouth seals over her nipple. It’s in that moment—filled by us, loved by us—that she comes. Hard and violent. Arching her back off the couch, hand in my hair, shaking and coating my fingers with her release. Eyes never leaving me.

  She falls back, breathless, and Liam whispers to her, brushing her hair from where it’s stuck to her forehead. My hand withdraws slowly, begrudgingly leaving her, but not before I lick her clit, making her shiver, and press gentle kisses into her. Donovan’s eyes are closed as I sit up, her breathing beginning to slow down. She’s spent, worked over, laying out between us. My gaze drifts over her gorgeous body, half held in Liam’s arms possessively.

  That posture makes me meet my best friend’s eyes. He looks down at my hands, one coated in Donovan and the other gripped over her center just as possessively. We’re like two lions that don’t want to share their prize.

  I knew it when we started this. When we thought it out silently over her moans. This is different. And he knows it too.

  She lets out a contented sigh before rolling sideways, head in Liam’s lap and legs closing, pushing my hand away. I grab a blanket from over the back of the couch and cover her sated body, taking my position at her feet and letting my head fall back against the couch as I adjust my hard cock.

  She’s the only one getting off tonight, but still, neither of us are going to leave her. Because unlike any of the others, this one—Donovan—she’s the one we don’t want to share.

  Liam spoons the cereal into his mouth, focused on his bowl, as I sit on the barstool next to him, staring at her. Donovan’s been silent since we all woke up this morning. She’s looking between us over the rim of her coffee mug, those ocean eyes getting occasionally hidden by steam.

  “Okay. Listen up,” she delivers like a drill sergeant, stopping Liam midbite.

  We look at each other and then back to her, waiting for what she’s about to say.

  “Here’s the deal.” Her bangs swish as she shakes her head, then glares at the both of us. “We’re all adults. Or practically adults. And there’s no way I would ever believe that was your first double-fuck rodeo.”

  “Is that a compliment, Cherry?” I toss out, taking a bite out of my bagel.

  Liam looks at me and shrugs. “Maybe just an overall rating for our skill level. Five double fucking stars.”

  She lets out a groan, but it’s accompanied by her knockout smile, as we both laugh.

  “Can we just agree that we got that out of our systems, with the help of some bad ideas, like—skinny-dipping, crazy adrenaline from the fight, and some Jack Daniels? It was a perfect storm that led to…well, you know, but now we’re going to move on.”

  Liam clinks the spoon gently against the bowl as he crosses his arms over his chest. She’s looking between us, but I’m not sure what she wants us to say. There’s no way I can move on after last night. I didn’t flush her from my system—she just invaded it, filling in all the cracks and crevices. I could no more forget about last night than I could my own name. But I want her for myself, and that’s not what she’s asking.

  She places her mug on the counter, looking between us. “Can we just be us again?”

  “Yes.” Liam nods, and I one hundred percent know he’s thinking my same thoughts.

  “Grey?” she breathes out, nervously.

  “We’re always just us, Cherry. It doesn’t happen again.” My face shifts to Liam’s. “Guaranteed.”

  He looks back at his cereal, jaw tensed, but she doesn’t notice.

  “Thank you. Okay. So friends again, no overthinking things. Just back to us.”

  Her shoulders relax as she says it, and I smile tightly. This feels like foreshadowing, the moment that I will look back on and be able to say, “That’s when the destruction was set in motion.”

  She comes around the counter and kisses Liam on the cheek, then mine. “I’m going to change, and then can we get out of here and stop for burgers?”

  “Absolutely.”

  The moment she’s out of sight, Liam looks at me. “Can we just be good and figure this shit out later?”

  I nod. “Yeah. Brothers, always. Nothing changes.”

  Liam agrees, tapping the counter as a smile grows on his face. “Watch this,” he says quietly to me, before yelling up toward the stairs, “Hey, Van.”

  Her “Yes?” is faint but heard before Liam adds, “Since we’re just friends again, you wanna make out?”

  I laugh loudly as she screams his name with venom, and I push his shoulder. He’s such an asshole, but it’s the exact kind of icebreaker that’s needed.

  “This might be more fun than we’re giving it credit,” he laughs.

  We’re both grinning as we continue eating our breakfast and let last night become a distant memory. At least that’s the hope. Except one of us is comparing every bite to the taste of Donovan, and it’s not Liam.

  Donovan

  THE PHONE INSIDE MY BAG hasn’t stopped vibrating all through my art studies class, and it’s made the smile grow on my face until it’s impossible to hide anymore. I know it’s them—God, they’re impossible. But what do I expect? It’s Grey and Liam—overbearing insistence is par for the course.

  My fingers smudge the edges around the oranges I’ve drawn, tilting my head to look at the bowl of still art, appropriately called oranges in a bowl. The earthy, kind-eyed teacher who’s always in some kind of corduroy pant walks behind me, watching as I deepen the contrast in my sketch by rubbing my finger against the pencil.

  “Really nice use of shadow, Donovan. You have a great eye for detail.”

  I look up from my easel and smile. “Thank you.”

  He raises an eyebrow before speaking. “But I don’t know how you concentrate with all the incessant cell phone interruptions. Perhaps next class you turn the problematic thing off?”

  Shit. My nose wrinkles as I stare at my paper. Busted.

  I’m going to kill them. Grey and Liam manage to get me in trouble even when they aren’t with me. But in the last few weeks I’ve been more forgiving, just wanting us to fall back into our rhythm. For the most part, we’ve done just that, but sometimes, they look at me for too long or maybe it’s me looking at them.

  Glancing up again, I wince as I mouth, “Sorry,” smiling only when he looks amused and nods.

  He passes behind me, taking in other students’ work, and I quickly steal a glance over my shoulder. I make sure I’m being ignored, before dipping my shoulder sideways to reach into my bag. I fumble around as my fingers search for my cell, before grabbing and turning it off. There. Ignored for the rest of class.

  Scooting a bit to resituate on my stool, I place a foot on the floor and look at the bowl in the middle of the circle of stud
ents when the door flies open, catching everyone’s eyes, including mine. My mouth drops open in surprise as Liam and Grey breeze through the doorway like arrogant gods, straight toward me, much to the teacher’s dismay.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Brooks…Mr. McCallister. I’m teaching. Leave.”

  Liam shrugs, uncaring, spinning from the teacher to face me and smiling deviously with a damn toothpick between his teeth. He bends to grab my bag and throws it over his shoulder. “Hey, Van.”

  What the hell is going on? I don’t answer, opting for a grin because when they’re up to no good, it’s hard to say anything to stop it. Been there, done them.

  Grey looks over his shoulder at the teacher. “Don’t worry, we’re leaving. We apologize for the rude interruption.” Hitching his thumb at me, he adds, “But I left something in here I need.”

  Grey’s hand finds mine, tugging me up with a blush on my face, as a laugh bursts past my lips. “Oh, and I’m your ‘stuff’ that you left? Classy.”

  Grey throws me a wink, and I would keep giggling, but the very unamused teacher looks sternly at the boys and then to me, effectively shutting me up.

  “Miss Kennedy, I will write you up for leaving early and without permission.”

  Uh-oh. Joke’s over.

  “No. I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Grey counters, full of the high-handedness that’s so well practiced.

  “And why is that?” the teacher responds, crossing his arms.

  But Liam chuckles and points to the ceiling just as the bell sounds. They don’t hesitate, pulling me out of class past an angry teacher and whispers from the watching crowd. We get halfway down the hall before I stop laughing and make them quit basically dragging me.

  “What are you two doing? I sense a plot.”

  They both turn, full of irreverence. Grey bites that damn bottom lip, and Liam takes the toothpick out and tosses it in the trash before he licks his lips. I’m completely and undeniably overwhelmed. I feel like I have to hold my breath when they stare at me like this—at the same time with matching intentions. It’s too much déjà vu. Like any minute, they’ll pounce, and I’ll let them.

  “Spill. What’s going on?”

  My voice fades toward the end because Grey starts to circle one way as Liam goes around me the other way, making me switch my head back and forth, stumbling over my feet as I turn around, trying to track them.

  “Seriously? What are we doing? You can’t be this excited about lunch.”

  They glance at each other and back to me. Grey comes around the right side of me and leans in. “It’s October first.”

  I shrug, shaking my head because he says it as though it’s supposed to mean something.

  “Uh…I’m going to need a better clue than the date. Are we celebrating surviving the first month of school?”

  They just keep circling like vultures while people make their way to classes around us, making me giggle again.

  “You’re so dramatic. This better be good.”

  I lock eyes with Grey and raise my brows for an answer, but it’s Liam who makes me jump from my left side when he whispers in my ear, “It’s Movie Madness.”

  The hall becomes quiet as the bell rings again, and they wag their brows at me.

  “What does Movie Madness mean, exactly?”

  Standing in front of me, Grey takes my hand as Liam takes the other, pulling me forward as they walk backward.

  “Van, we’re ditching. And don’t bother to say no, because we’ll stuff you in the trunk. This is a mandatory outing.”

  Grey looks at Liam and nods his approval. “I like where your head’s at. Appropriate for where we’re going and really just ‘in the spirit’ of things.”

  “Thank you. I try to stay authentic.”

  I dig my feet in, making it harder for them to pull me—well, not really, but I try as I protest. “Unless it’s to become mobsters, I don’t see anything appropriate with being stuffed in a trunk.”

  They pivot, each still holding one of my hands, and walk outside, bringing me with them. As we exit, we’re greeted by spirited yells from about ten other people, a mix of guys and girls congregated in the circular drive. The guys let me go as we all walk down the front steps and join the group.

  High fives are given out between the boys, and I smile at the few girls hanging together. Grey laughs loudly with his back to me, and my patience runs out. I reach out and push Liam’s shoulder, but he looks down, unmoving, and blows me a kiss.

  “Okay. Where are we going? You guys are the worst.”

  Grey turns around quickly and holds out a plastic machete, the kind from a Halloween store painted with blood.

  “You’re gonna need this.”

  “What the fuck?”

  The motorcycle I’m planted on kicks up, making me squeeze my arms tighter around Liam’s waist. We speed past Grey’s scowling face as I blow him a kiss into the air. Grey was so pissed when everyone loaded up and I spotted Liam’s sleek black Ducati. There was no way in hell that I wasn’t riding on the back of this beauty.

  He revs again, and my thighs squeeze around him in reaction to the delicious vibration buzzing in all the right places. I can feel him laugh at me, but as my body relaxes, his hand leaves one of the handles and presses my thigh back into his strong leg. It’s only for a minute, and then his hand is back on the handle, but it’s enough to get my attention. Everywhere.

  Jesus, Donovan. My errant thoughts have me burying my face into his back, slightly embarrassed by the way my body likes this bike and the boy on it.

  Everything’s felt raw, like an exposed wire, since the lake house. We agreed to go back to us, no overthinking, but sex ruins the best of intentions. I’ve noticed their interest. It’s deeper than the first week when I thought all the flirtations would end up as background noise to the soundtrack of our friendship. Then I thought our flirtation had morphed into a kind of language we speak, but the more the boys said, the more I now realize how naïve I was being. I like them. And I am wholly unready to fall in love with Grey and Liam, but that’s what I’m scared is happening.

  Liam motions with his hand, pointing toward the movie theater marquis ahead of us, and I nod as my hair whips at the ends. The guys explained that every October first, this movie theater opens a haunted maze that ends inside the theatre, where you can watch a marathon of horror movies. “Amazing” and “epic” were the words used to describe the experience. I’m not convinced. I feel like it’s going to be more “terrifying” and “traumatic” for me. Apparently, it’s been their tradition since freshman year, and now that I’m back, it’s my tradition too.

  Lucky me.

  We slow to a stop, and I bring my hands to Liam’s back, patting a beat out on his broad shoulders as he puts the kickstand down. I hike my leg over, stepping down gently, feeling like Jell-O as I smile and reach for the chinstrap on my helmet.

  “That was amazing. Thanks for the ride, Johnny.”

  His eyes cut to mine. “Who the fuck is Johnny?”

  “Oh my God. Grease. Well, Grease 2.” He stares back at me blankly. “You know, T-birds, Pink Ladies? Nothing?”

  Liam walks around his bike, taking both our helmets to secure them on the bike, and bends to kiss my cheek just as Grey walks up. “Why does she look like that?”

  “I don’t know, she’s talking about pink birds and grease.”

  Grey’s hand takes its place on the back of my neck under my hair as I slap at Liam’s stomach.

  “She is right here. And Grease is a movie classic. How can you say you’ve even lived?”

  Liam laughs but ignores me as we walk toward the line at the roped-off entrance that’s draped in black fabric, causing my heart to start beating faster. What sounds like a bunch of recorded screams and creepy squeaking doors comes from speakers set around us. My fingers find my bracelet, and I see Grey raise an amused brow. Maybe I can escape out of the first exit and bail? They’ll never know. I cringe to myself, suddenly remembering I meant to t
ext my driver and tell him I wouldn’t need a ride today.

  “Shit.”

  The guys stare at me as I dig through my bag while we take our place in line. I pull it out and press the button to turn it back on, and Grey jerks his chin toward my cell.

  “Why’s your phone off?”

  I lean in, resting my head on his chest as a cool breeze cuts by, billowing my school skirt and causing me to shiver. He moves to take off his sweater, but I shake my head.

  “You guys were so obnoxious texting me this afternoon that I had to turn it off during art studies.”

  They look at each other, suspicion on their faces as the screen comes to life, but before I can check anything, Grey swipes the phone right out of my hand. My head shoots up, and I turn my body toward him.

  “What are you doing? Give me my phone.”

  Liam locks his arms around me, making it impossible for me to take it back and also making me laugh when he bites at my cheek.

  “Secrets aren’t allowed, Cherry. Fess up. Who’s texting our girl? Because it sure as hell wasn’t us.”

  As soon as he says it, my stomach drops. If they weren’t texting me like crazy people, it can only be one other person. Oh fuck. Please don’t make this a moment where I have to explain my entire life story.

  All the humor leaves Grey’s face as he begins reading the messages on my phone, and I instantly want to disappear. I should try to grab the phone, but I don’t. Instead, I sink further into Liam’s hold. Until Grey looks up—then I want to run away. I despise the look behind his eyes.

  Sympathy. He feels bad for me.

  “Your mom,” Grey offers, handing me back the phone, just as I snatch it from him, breaking away from Liam.

  I look down, scrolling over message after angry message, stopping to read the last few novels she texted.

  Mom: I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this kind of treatment, but I’m surprised that you would be so willing to shut me out. After all you’ve done.

  Mom: You’re selfish and Dr. Esteban says I don’t need toxicity in my life. I’m happy you’ve decided to turn your back on me, now I won’t feel bad doing the same.