I spear a mouthful of the stupid pancakes off the stupid plate. They're the same stupid pancakes I get every year I'm forced to attend this breakfast, ordered for me like I'm a toddler incapable of making my own choices.
I look over at Caulter, who has a mouthful of food. At least there's two of us being treated like toddlers now.
Caulter sits beside me, my father and Ella at the ends of the table, like we’re a completely normal family out for Saturday morning brunch. Except that we’re the opposite of normal. We're eating in front of camera crews and reporters, pretending this is the most usual thing in the world. How fucked up is that?
Reporters throw out questions that my father and Ella field between bites. It's at least gratifying to watch Ella be forced to sit in front of a plate full of carbs, moving pieces around and sipping on water. I space out during most of the breakfast, only perking up when something is directed at me specifically.
I’m distracted by the fact that I'm pretty sure Caulter can see down the front of my dress from where he sits beside me. Well, I'm distracted by that and the fact that my nipples have been hard for the past hour. Since what happened with Caulter in the hallway.
He fiddles with something beside his leg, and then my purse vibrates. Shit. I reach discreetly for my purse and pull out my phone. For a second I thought Caulter stuck my vibrator in there. While reporters direct question after question at my father, I slide my finger across the screen, seeing a text from a number I don't recognize.
That dress is the most fuckable thing I’ve ever seen.
I glance over at Caulter, who puts a piece of pancake in his mouth. He avoids looking at me. I touch the keys on the screen, typing out a response as I feign paying attention as a reporter directs a question at me. “Katherine, have you decided on a major?”
Art, I want to say. I open my mouth, ready to declare my undecided-ness for the entire world, and my father interrupts me. “Law, isn’t it, Katherine? Pre-law?”
I pause. Fuck you, I think. But I smile instead. “Law,” I say. “Yes. Law.” I hit “send” on the phone, underneath the table.
How did u get my number u stalkr. lve me alone.
Caulter looks down beside him. A minute later, I feel my phone vibrate again.
This syrup doesn’t taste nearly as sweet as you. I can still smell you on my fingers.
When I look at him, he's closing his mouth around a syrup-coated piece of pancake and licking his lips dramatically. I'm not sure whether to be turned on or appalled at the balls he has to text something like that right here in the middle of this event, surrounded by reporters and at the same table as my father.
I type out a response.
U r not ever ever ever tasting me.
“Caulter, how are you and Katherine getting along now? Was the photo in the paper a one-time occurrence, or is there real tension between you?”
My heart stops, and I reach for a glass of water. Is there real tension between us? My mind flashes immediately to the image of Caulter with his hand between my legs, his fingers bringing me to the brink of insanity right there in the middle of the hallway with my father and his new bride waiting downstairs. Is there tension between us? I'm preoccupied with Caulter. I can't decide if I want to throw him over a cliff or let him bend me over and fuck me.
“I can’t answer for Katherine,” Caulter says, his voice interrupting my thoughts. “But the incident in the paper was really taken completely out of context. We were actually joking around, arguing over -- coffee, was it?"
"Coffee." One of the reporters chuckles.
"I think with two teenagers as obviously bright and talented as these, there will be similarly heated discussions in the future as our two families merge." My father's voice booms.
As our two families merge.
He doesn't know what kind of merging Caulter and I have been doing. I avoid eye contact with Caulter as my phone vibrates again.
I'm going to merge with you.
I roll my eyes and reply.
Corny. Also, no. Just no.
From the corner of my eye, I see Caulter smirk, and he taps on the phone while still nodding along with a point someone is making about an issue I don't give a shit about. I can't think of anything except the fact that my panties are damp, and I'm concerned that when I stand up, the evidence of my attraction to Caulter will be right there for the entire world to see.
I look down at my phone.
I'm going to bend you over, pull that dress up, and slap your ass good and hard.
Heat rises to my face as I think about Caulter sending all the plates and silverware on the table crashing to the floor with one dramatic gesture of his arm, then taking me right here in this little mom and pop cafe.
What the hell is wrong with me? I'm becoming a sex-obsessed lunatic.
I hit the power button on the phone and focus on the breakfast. I'm determined to put all of this nonsense out of my head. I pointedly ignore Caulter, who nods and smiles and answers questions politely, all things that are so unlike Caulter that it puts me on edge. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Instead, we make it through breakfast completely free of any incident. I can tell that his mother is just as surprised as I am. My father smiles happily, pleased, I'm sure, that we've behaved ourselves.
“The driver will take you and Caulter back,” he says outside, walking toward a car with Ella.
“What?” My voice sounds like a squeak. My father is the king of surprises.
“I have another speaking engagement.” He doesn’t even bother to explain. "You kids did great."
Behind me, Caulter chuckles. “Alone in the car. Alone in the house. Do you think you can resist, Princess?”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll be fine.” I’m still bending forward, ducking as I slide into the car with Caulter behind me, when I feel his fingers reach up and graze my panties. I nearly jump out of my skin, slapping his hand. He just laughs, as if he just did something completely appropriate. When I slide to the other side of the seat, he grins.
“This limo is just not that big, Princess,” he says.
“Shut up.”
We’re driving, the privacy screen up, when Caulter slides over and reaches for my leg, pulling my thigh toward him. I jerk my legs closed, glancing toward the front of the car where the driver sits. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Worried?” he asks softly.
I shrug. “No. I’m not interested.”
“I’m sure he can’t hear us,” Caulter says. “Your father wouldn’t let someone record him.”
I wrinkle my brow. “Are you seriously suggesting my father is banging women -- your mother -- in the back of limos?”
Caulter laughs. “Obviously, you’re the one with sex on your mind,” he says. “No, I wasn’t suggesting that. Thanks for the image though; I might have to bleach my brain now. I was saying that I’m sure he talks about stuff with people he doesn’t want recorded, so I doubt very much that we need to worry.”
“Well, unlike you, I’ve never had a reason to even think about hiding what I do in the back of limos.”
“It's not my fault you live a sheltered life, one without orgasms.” He returns his hand to my thigh, sliding his palm up the side of my leg, and I slap it, but he only grips it more tightly.
“I’ve had plenty of orgasms, thank you very much.” I’m not lying; I mean, I’ve given myself plenty of orgasms.
Caulter laughs, the sound mocking. “Not the kind of orgasms I give,” he says.
“You have no idea what kind of orgasms I’ve had without you," I say, rolling my eyes. But I can't help but wonder.
Sliding his hand over my thigh, he reaches between my legs. “Your panties are soaked,” he says. “Are we just going to keep pretending you don’t want me?”
“I can’t stand you,” I protest.
“I don’t much like you either, Princess,” he whispers, his voice gravelly. I flinch when he speaks the words, as if he’s hit me, and the movement doesn’t escape him. “What? You don’t like hearing that from me?”
I shrug, even though he’s right. It bothers me, but I can’t imagine why. “Whatever. I don’t care if you like me or not. And --” I nod toward the window, at the driver.
Caulter smiles, and leans close to my ear. “I already told you he can’t hear us and he can’t see us.”
“You don’t know that for sure," I say, my resolve already weakening. "And he would tell my father.”
“So you’re entertaining the idea.”
“I am not.”
“Live life on the edge,” he whispers. “Take a little risk once in a while, Princess.” He doesn’t move for a minute, and then, his head looking forward and his movements smooth, he pulls my thigh toward him with one hand and reaches between my legs with the other.
I already know what he's going to find. He's going to find that my panties are absolutely drenched. I'm already aware of that. I hate that my traitorous body melts under his touch.
“You’re the Devil,” I protest, my brain insisting that doing this with him is so wrong. I'm not the girl who lets go, lets someone like Caulter touch her in the back of a limo.
I squeeze my legs together, but it doesn’t faze him. It only traps his hand between my thighs, leaving his fingers pressed against my pussy lips. He still moves his fingers, and it sends a shock of arousal coursing through my body like electricity. I want desperately to let go. I want him to take me higher, but I don’t know that I can. I don’t know that I should. In fact, I’m certain that I shouldn’t.
I wrap my hand over his wrist, intending to peel it away, but instead, I press it against me. I hold his fingers tight between my legs, the heat radiating into me through the cotton fabric of my panties. I can’t think about anything except having his fingers back inside me, where they were this morning. Hell, I don't want his fingers -- what I really want is his cock.
He moves closer to me, whispers in my ear. “You're wet. Admit that it's because of me. We both know it is."
I ignore him, but part my legs slightly, and he takes that as an invitation to pull my panties to the side, revealing my pussy. I inhale cool air through my mouth, every part of my body aching for his touch.
I shake my head. There's no way I'm telling Caulter Sterling I'm wet for him. Even if it is written all over my body. "Not true," I whisper.
"No?" he asks. He teases my entrance with his finger, but doesn't give me what I so desperately want. Instead, he runs the tip of his finger over my clit again, arousal making my thoughts foggy. "You want me, Katherine. You want me to plunge my cock into that sweet pussy of yours. I will, Princess. All you have to do is say it. Say you want me to leave you panting, the same way you did that night.”
I shake my head, protesting, but he keeps touching me, and it's not thirty seconds before I'm throwing my head back in surrender. He slips his finger inside me, and I am so far gone I can’t think anymore. I don’t care what he wants me to say. At this point, I’ll say anything.
Until he pulls it out, and I’m left empty. I look up at him, my breath short. “What the hell?”
Caulter shakes his head. “Naughty girl. You’re not going to get to come that easily.”
“Whatever, Caulter." I choke out the words, eyeing his obvious hardness. “Fine. But I know you want it. More than I do.”
He leans in close to me, taking my earlobe between his teeth. The movement sends a shudder down the length of my body. “Tell me how much I want it, Princess.”
I watch as he unzips his jeans and reaches inside to release his erect cock. I hadn’t forgotten how huge it is -- in fact, his damn dick has preoccupied my brain for the last few weeks to a point where I can’t focus on anything else. But seeing it again, I'm transfixed. He strokes himself from base to tip, without taking his eyes off me. I almost can't believe that he’s so brazen to just whip out his cock in front of me right here, except that it's Caulter.
What's more unbelievable is how intensely my body responds as I watch him move his hand up and down his length, the throbbing between my legs so insistent I can barely take it. “You can’t do that in here,” I protest weakly.
Caulter ignores me, his hand moving up and down. “I’d like it to be your hand here. Or better yet, that perfect mouth of yours wrapped around my cock.”
“No way,” I say. “We’re about to be back at the house. It’s not like you can get off in the next two minutes before we get to my house."
He raises his eyebrows. “Well, if that’s your only objection,” he says, “you don't have to worry. I'm not about to get off here. I'm going to wait until I'm lodged deep in your pussy before I come."
Reaching for my hand, he places it on his shaft. I should pull away, teach him a lesson in appropriate behavior, but I don’t. With Caulter, I find myself perpetually unable to resist. He’s so hard, and I wrap my hand around his shaft, the sensation of his hardness so distracting. Incredibly distracting. “You’ve been thinking about it, haven’t you? How it felt when I was inside you?"
I don’t answer, my thumb finding a bead of pre-cum at the tip of his head. I rub it in circles on his tip.
I move my hand along his shaft, long and languid strokes, until the slowing of the car jolts me out of my nearly-hypnotic state. I quickly adjust my skirt and scoot across the seat as we pass through the gate in front of the house, clearing my throat and intentionally not looking in Caulter's direction.
For all I know, Caulter will probably walk out of the limo with his pants around his ass, hard-on fully displayed, just to fuck with me. Of course, the joke would be on him, since Rose has the day off and the only one at the house to torment would be me.
Shit. We're all alone in the house.
I’m totally screwed. And the problem is, the thought of being screwed by Caulter is too damn appealing.