Page 6 of Vengeful Sins

“I told my dad I wouldn’t be gone long. I don’t want any shit when I get home.” Maya’s forced laugh is like nails running down a chalkboard to me. It’s good, though. She should leave, she needs to leave. I was fine before she reminded me she exists.

If only she didn’t glance my way before adding, “Everybody’s having a good time, anyway.”

Now, see? I could’ve let it go. I would’ve been happy to watch her curvy ass bounce away before I take what’s-her-face upstairs for a quick screw. I might have ended this night feeling good. Relaxed. If only it wasn’t for that last remark.

“Well? Are you going to show me or not?” Now the redhead is tugging my hand, trying to get me to follow her inside.

But I can’t stop watching. Wren looks so sad. That means Briggs is going to fall all over himself to make her happy, which means the rest of us might as well go home. Why the fuck does Maya have to ruin everything she touches?

Forget the redhead. I barely remember what she looks like by the time I walk away, my feet slapping the patio with every step as I follow Maya to the gate. She’s just going to ruin the night and run away. So typical. She can never face her own bullshit. For once, she’s going to. For once, somebody is going to call her out.

The gate swings open when Maya pushes it, and she’s halfway around the side of the house by the time I follow her through. She might as well be running, fleeing. “Hey!” I bark. It’s not like anybody at the party can hear me.

But she does. Loud and clear. I can tell when her shoulders jump up around her ears. Instead of stopping, the way any decent person would do, she doubles her pace.

Which means I do the same, because I will be damned if she runs away this time. “You heard me talking to you!”

“So what?” she asks, almost running with her arms wrapped around herself.

This little bitch. But she makes a mistake, not looking for her keys until she’s already standing next to her car. She fumbles around in her purse for them but can’t reach them by the time I catch up to her.

When she spins around to face me, I pin her back against the driver’s side door and cage her in with my arms. Her tits heave against my chest, and for the briefest, stupidest moment, my dick stirs.

“What the hell is your problem?” I could be asking myself that question, but instead I’m snarling at her, taking in how she reacts. Her fair cheeks are now flushed, blue eyes bulging, her lips parted so she can breathe hard enough for her nipples to brush my chest.

“I didn’t have one until you started with me,” she grits out. “And now, I’m trying to leave, because it’s so obvious you want me to. But you won’t let me go. I think you’re the one with the problem.”

“You’re right. I do have a problem.” There’s so much on the tip of my tongue, wanting to burst out of my chest. I still possess enough clarity to keep all of that shoved down deep where it can’t embarrass me.

Instead, I sneer the way she is. “Wren was only trying to be your friend, dumbass. What, are you too good to go swimming? What do you have against having fun, being a good friend?”

Her eyes narrow. “Do yourself a favor and don’t talk about things you don’t have the first clue of. You make yourself sound stupid.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck yourself,” she whispers back. feeling fierce tonight. Feisty. If anything, I like her better this way. She’s not running around like a scared rabbit, pretending she’s innocent when we both know she is anything but. “Do me a favor and don’t act like you give a shit about Wren, because you don’t. You were right there with Briggs, bullying her.”

As if she has any right to lecture me. My blood is lava by the time I grunt, “That’s none of your business.”

“Just like my friendship with Wren is none of your business. And as for whether I feel like going swimming or not,” she continues, “that’s none of your business, either. Leave me alone.”

Leave me alone, or else.That threat echoes faintly in the back of my mind, but it gets louder with every beat of my heart. Every second I spend looking into those lying, evil eyes that burn with the kind of fire that wouldn’t go out if I threw her in the pool.

“You have no fucking idea…” I whisper, catching my breath when my gaze lands on her lips. It’s already a warm night, but what flares up in me is warmer. Hot. Boiling. “… how much I wish I could.”

What am I thinking? Whatever it is, it needs to stop. Now. Because from where I’m standing, with her body so hot and soft under mine, it makes all the sense in the world to do what my dick is demanding.

“Get off me.” I can barely hear her whisper, but it’s the warmth of her breath on my skin that makes my mouth go dry.

She goes stiff at the touch of my lips to hers, arching against the car while a gasp stirs in her throat. Is she surprised? So am I. Surprised at how good she tastes. How sweet. Her lips are firm, but it takes nothing to make them yield under mine.

It takes nothing to pry them apart with my tongue, too. To slide my tongue against hers, to stroke slowly inside her mouth. At first, I think the hands she runs up and down my back are trying to grab my clothes, to pull me away. Only when she moans do I understand its desperation. Like she needs to be close. Like she’s as hungry for this as I am. The flash of heat, the primal urge pounding through my veins. She feels it, too.

And I fucking hate us both for it.

That doesn’t stop me from running my hand down the side of her body. The throaty moan that stirs up makes me want more. I have no control over what my body is doing now. I can only go with it, cupping her tit before tracing the curve of her waist. Groaning when it flares into a full hip. My fingers press tight against it, and now she whines, needy.

I can’t pretend I don’t like it. Just like I can’t pretend my dick’s not about to burst through my shorts. I could screw her here and now, against this car, where anyone could see. I might have to, or else I’ll explode.