Page 25 of The Southern Thirst Trap

I feel my eyes prick and my chest squeezes at his words. I want that, so badly, but this is a line he’s drawing. We’ve already crossed it, but he’s giving me an out. He’s telling me there’s still a chance we can walk away unscathed, unaffected, no matter how much we would be lying to ourselves. This is us dropping the roles and being our authentic selves, letting us feel the things we’ve been dancing around, no matter how fucking bad it’s going to feel when we have to leave them behind at the end of the trip. I think a tear slips free from my eye, but it mixes instantly with the spray from the shower.

“I want you, Zander. All of you. I want every piece of you. Give me everything. I want you to belong to me as much as I belong to you.”

“Pretty words, Lowe, such pretty fucking words,” he whispers, his eyes screwing up tightly. When he opens them, his storm cloud eyes look like a fire has been lit behind them, smoke and ash swirling and rising in those depths, and I know it’s the restraint, the no attachments, and the rules he lives by to keep himself walled off burning to the ground that feeds those twin fires.

His head lowers, and he captures my mouth with his, the kiss searing hot, carrying the fire from his eyes and igniting me in turn. I burn for him, flames licking through me, catching on the dry kindling of feeling rootless and having finally found my home in him. Embers spark and burn out all the memories of not being good enough, knowing he’s choosing me now. Flames catch in the darkest parts of me where I feel I will never amount to anything, giving me twin flames to light up those places and I feel a glimmer of hope for the first time that I can have a purpose beyond being a pretty face. A wildfire catches, warming me from the inside out with the knowledge that I can belong to someone like Zander Olsen.

Zander fists his cock in one hand and I lift my leg to his hip as he notches it at my center and pushes in, keeping his eyes trained on mine with each slow inch of him filling me.

“You’re mine. Say it for me, baby,” he commands, voice rough, low, and broken, like the fire that is burning in his eyes is raging through the rest of him, too, and he’s struggling, needing my reassurance that he’ll come out the other side whole, better.

“I’m yours, Zander,” I respond, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and threading my fingers in his hair, pulling until his eyes meet mine. “And you are mine. You are all fucking mine.”

Zander’s smile is all male pleasure, possession, and need, so when his hands grip my thighs tightly and he backs me roughly into the wall, I’m ready for the punishing fucking I know he is so capable of. But instead, he takes his time, shallows out his thrusts and angles his hips so he hits a new part of me that feels even more incredible than I expected. He hooks my ankles behind his back and grips my ass, squeezing and kneading while he kisses me sweetly and as slowly as he fucks me.

No, that’s not it, he’s…he’s making loveto me.

Zander Olsen is making love.To me. A dam of emotion bursts open inside of me with the orgasm that blooms and swells and rips a sob from my throat as I crest and overflow. I cling to him as he continues to move so gently, so sweetly, with me wrapped around him, the waves of my release continuing to roll through me as tears of relief track down my face as my love for him stokes the fire burning in me, raging hotter, higher, lighting up every dark place and making it golden and bright and lovely.

“You feel so fucking good like this. I’ll never be the same. Fuck, Lowe, I’m ruined, you own me. Your pussy is everything. I want to live inside of you. I want you forever, just like this. Just us. Lowe, you’re mine. All mine, forever, baby.”

He wants me, not the role I’m playing. He wants to keep me, even after the trip. He wants this to be real. And just like that, I’m irrevocably lost to this man. I softly cup his face in my hands and kiss his lips that speak such filthy, lovely, sweet, and deliciously dangerous words that set me on fire and make me think of forever with him. He kisses me back with the same hunger and longing, the same need and desire that is fueling me.

The next time I come, it’s with our foreheads touching, my eyes locked on his, his groan and my whimpers mixing as he is pulled over the edge with me into a soaring release. It’s the most intense, soul-searing experience that will stick with me long after the shower washes away the evidence that there was no condom easily at hand just this once.

fourteen

The Atlanta Haute List

Celebrity Chef Taking Down Fort Knox, Or Digging Out Of Billionaire’s Shadow?

Our new favorite couple, Atlanta cookbook author and former model, Harlowe Sorenson, and her beau, professional athlete, Knox Contraire, look to be getting comfy. Reports of Knox’s late-night visits to Sorenson’s home are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to these two. They were spotted getting cozy at Napoletana Pizza last week, and our insiders feel confident that things are moving along nicely. Now that they are regulars on the Haute list, we decided to give them a deeper look.

Knoxhasn’tbeenlinkedto any notable names throughout his football career, but it’s not surprising he would latch onto former top model and current social media sensation, Harlowe, who is one of the sexiest, yet also most relatable, celebrities in our city. He’s an up-and-coming athlete destined for success, and she’s switching gears and continuing to make a name for herself no matter what she’s up to. They could be the next power couple, conquering several industries at once and cementing themselves in our hearts forever.

So, what’s Sorenson’s story? Harlowe is an Atlanta native who has remained unattached since she was last linked, although briefly, to the youngest of our illustrious Atlanta billionaire brothers, Zander Olsen. Thaaaat’s right, Hauties, our favorite billionaires are making it into all of our stories these days. We’ve been digging up dirt all around the Olympus foundation, linking the brothers to the who’s-who of Hollywood and business alike, and we stumbled upon some news from before the Haute List was born.

It turns out that Harlowe was listed on a flight manifest to the Maldives five years ago with Zander, returning two weeks later and not being linked to him since. That fits Olsen’s modus operandi with beautiful women—wine and dine them, then release them before anything can be made of the connection. Though, two weeks is about thirteen days longer than most women get at Olsen’s side, so it has us scratching our heads at what could have happened in those two weeks in paradise.

Just know we see you, Zander and Harlowe, and we can’t help but wonder at the timing and make connections between the illusive son carefully guarded from the world by Sorenson. No posts to social media containing a full photo, no candid paparazzi shots with the little one in tow, and only our in-the-know Hauties’ submissions of blurry shots from brief outings to go off of, but we can still see apossibleresemblance to one of Atlanta’s, and the entire business world’s, top billionaires. Could this be the start of our generation’s very own Watergate, ahem, ZaddyGate? Hashtag it now, we’re calling it first. We’ll let you be the judge, and of course we’ll keep digging. For all the Haute gossip, click Like and Subscribe!

fifteen

Zander

“Fuck,whatnow?”Igrowl, pushing away the tablet Payton thrusts into my hands as soon as I walk out of the elevator. I read the headline and scan the article, noting quickly what is insinuated in bold font on a crisp website that most of Atlanta will read today and speculate about nonstop.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell us about this, Zand? Is it true?” Payton asks, his long strides matching mine as I barrel down the hallway, looking for the privacy of my office to rage in. That fucking blog needs to be scraped from the internet already. We have the money and resources to do it, so why is it still up?

“Is what true? It’s a fucking gossip site that likes to make connections where there aren’t any,” I say, putting as much confidence in my voice as I can.

It’s a question I have resolutely decided not to care about as I fuck my way through my social DMs in an attempt to get back to the normal me. A me I can’t fucking find when Harlowe insists on posting the thirstiest photos imaginable. I should be immune to her and yet I’m stopped in my scrolling every fucking time by the expressions on her face, her glorious tits, whatever goddamn recipe she is showing off, and reading her words that sound like the filthiest of food porn that gets me hard and has me stroking my cock and coming in my hand like a horny teen. I should block this account, too, which would be for the best. Yet I haven’t, because I’m a masochist using the flimsy pretense of following her to potentially find out about her kid for myself.

“Is it possible you have a child?” Payton’s voice is low, spoken only for me to hear knowing there are far too many eyes and ears trained on us as we move through the busy office space toward the executive office wing. “We know you fucked her, went to the Maldives with her, spent way more time with her than you ever do. Could you have gotten this girl pregnant?”

He calls her a girl when she's the sexiest goddamn woman he would be lucky to even meet. I carefully keep my eyes ahead, not answering his question or meeting his inquisitive ocean blue gaze that is steadfast and fixed on me, looking for any signs of weakness he can exploit. I shove through my office door hoping he’ll be shaken off, but he follows through and nearly runs into me when I see Hayes has already made himself comfortable on the black leather sofa facing the door, his phone in hand.

“Isthiswhy Harlowe was coming around the office after your trip? Maybe she was trying to tell you that she was left with more than sand in her panties from your trip?” Hayes asks, fire burning through his deep green stare as he holds up the phone, showing the same Haute List story. My brothers and their demanding eyes are going to be the death of me today. “Should I congratulate you on the birth of my nephew now, or after the paternity test?”

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