Pretty Reckless
“We keep the ice here, and some loser punched a wall trying to win a bet.” She rolls her eyes in full-blown cheerleader mode.
I grab her by the collar of her dress and pull her into the pool house, shutting the door behind us.
“I…” she begins, and I bite her lower lip like a savage. Hard and out of nowhere.
“Shhh,” I snarl. “We’ve got company, my hideous little monster.”
Still engulfed in complete darkness, I turn her body around and rest my chin on top of her head, pointing at the glass wall of the bedroom. We can only see their silhouettes, but their positions are clear. There’s a guy bracing his arm against the wall, thrusting himself into the mouth of a chick beneath him. He is fucking her mouth ruthlessly, one hand bracketing her head. A whimper escapes Daria’s throat, and my cock jerks in my jeans. It’s been too long since I’ve been inside her.
“Ever went down on anyone?” I lean down, my lips feathering over her shoulder blade. I grab her by the waist and pull her back into my body, my hard cock pressing against her back through our clothes. Damn height difference. I don’t know why I ask this. Getting an honest truth I’m not fond of might send me on a rampage. A criminal record is the last thing my ass needs, but if I find out Principal Prichard has been getting blowies from Daria, I just might slice him up into tiny pieces and fry him up for breakfast.
Hey, athletes can never get enough lean protein.
She inhales sharply but doesn’t answer.
My fingers travel along her inner thigh from behind, my teeth grazing her ear as I travel upward, toward her panties, then tug them aside.
“Answer me.”
She gasps when I pinch her clit, so I do it again. I’m so hard I’m about to burst all over her dress, something I’m sure my preppy princess wouldn’t appreciate. Her head rolls back on my shoulder when I start fucking her with my index and middle finger, swirling her clit with my thumb. My other hand is working her nipple through her dress.
“All my firsts,” she chokes out brokenly. “You stole all of them.”
“That’s my girl. Look at them,” I hiss, my voice so husky and gruff, I barely recognize it. “Take notes, Skull Eyes. This’ll be us tomorrow.”
She refocuses on the couple in front of us going at it. His thrusts become jerkier and faster, and he groans. Daria cups my dick from behind and squeezes, and I close my eyes.
Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t come.
Outside, people breeze through the pool house. They’re talking and laughing and yelling and living their mediocre, average existence. The place is clearing out, but there are still some assholes milling around, refusing to leave. Including the couple in front of us, who are not about to appreciate the audience when they’re done milking an orgasm from this guy’s dick.
“Coming,” the dude jeers, his voice laced with venomous boredom.
I can practically envision Daria’s eyes widen when she hears his familiar tenor and have to work her extra fast to keep her in the pre-orgasm zone.
It’s Vaughn.
“Not on my face this time,” the girl purrs, giggling with her mouth full of him.
Daria groans. “Esme.”
I quickly move my spare hand from her chest to cover her mouth in case she’s in the mood for a confrontation.
Personally, I don’t give two shits about who they are. I just know they made my balls tighten, and now I need an outlet. Vaughn pulls out of Esme’s mouth and tugs her hair, tilting her head up and coming all over her neck and tits through her dress. I swear at this moment I nearly shove my whole fist into Daria, and she comes so hard, she yells my name, biting my palm where there’s still a cut from my blood oath with Via.
Count on Daria to kill any good intention I have with my flakey, fake sister.
Esme snaps her head toward us while Vaughn is still pumping his jizz lazily into the crack between her tits, and without thinking, I grab Daria’s hand and sneak her out before they can see our faces. My hand is dripping blood between us on her manicured lawn.
“Crap.” She runs across her backyard with me. Her heels are digging into the moist earth, slowing her down, and I tug on her hand, not in the mood for ASH assholes to see the Las Juntas rat crashing their precious party.
“What if they saw us?” she wheezes.
“They’re the ones caught with his dick in Esme’s mouth. Let them figure it out.” I round her house and bend her under the kitchen window that’s facing a wrought-iron gate and high bushes. No one can see us here.
“Where have you been tonight?” The accusation in her voice is harsh. I was visiting Adriana and Harper, but it’s Daria’s birthday party, and I’m not about to shit all over her night. I pull her between my thighs, cupping her ass.
“Missed me?” I use my thumb to wipe my blood along her lower lip. She licks it without hesitation, her eyes on me.
“Answer my question, Penn.”
“I got you a birthday present.”
“A blood oath with your sister?” Her gaze drops to my hand.
A perceptive little thing, she is. I don’t think people give Daria the credit she deserves. She could’ve found Bin Laden in a week had she been given enough Red Bull and good internet service. I’m still not sure how I feel about Via. I don’t buy her good girl charade, and the more time that passes, the more I realize maybe I loved her just because someone had to. Because our mother didn’t. When Via was being her real self, I could at least relate to her anger. I felt it, too. This Brady Bunch version, though? Straight up made of cardboard and fake glitter.