Page 101 of Tricky Girls

Shit, why can’t that girl be gay? We wouldn’t even be at Vipers now if she was. She’d be in one of our beds, that skimpy dress in a heap on the floor.

I smother a burp as we wait at the bar. I’m stuffed as a turkey, full on Christmas dinner, champagne and crème brûlée. It hadn’t been as fun as last year—the staff kicked us out before we could get to the party games—but it was still a good time, especially with this little vixen pressed between us.

That pan-faced bitched tried to nose her way in but I promptly put a stop to that, driving her to the other side of the table.

She snuck looks at Tilda all evening, the two of them trading little smiles that made me want to vom. Someone hurts you like that, you don’t fucking go back to them. Well, apart from with Nic. But that’s different. We’re family. Family fall out. At the end of the day, she’d fucking kill for me. Die, even. And I for her.

Fuck, this festive cheer has gotten to me too. Before I can get all misty-eyed, I order a tray of shots, cute Christmas ones with hats of squirty cream.

Tilda eyes them dubiously. ‘You’re gonna get me fucked up.’

I press one into her hand. ‘Would that help me get into your knickers?’

She glares but downs the shot anyway.

‘Hey guys, look what I found,’ Elly shouts, proudly holding aloft a floppy Santa hat.

‘No fair, I want one,’ Tilda pouts.

‘You can have mine, babe.’ She plops it down on Tilda’s head and I roll my eyes at the gooey smile Tilda gifts her in return.

‘You motherfuckers gonna come dance or what?’

‘Hell yeah.’ Tilda grabs my hand, Elly’s too, and leads us off.

Indeterminate hours later, I’m stood by the loos waiting on Elly, eyes fixed on Tilda who’s still out on the dance floor. I narrow them as Natasha approaches her, wearing Tilda’s Santa hat, and leans over to talk to her. I can’t work out what they’re saying, Tilda’s face remaining impassive as they converse. Is that her pissed off face? Can’t tell. Sometimes she’s an open book but most times she’s not. My sexiest enigma.

But then Natasha says something thatdefinitelypisses her off, and I have to hide my smirk as Tilda flounces back to me with a face of thunder.

‘Do me a favour?’ she says.

‘Yeah, what?’

‘Plough me up against that wall and stick your tongue down my throat.’

My eyebrows shoot up. ‘Ex-fucking-cuse me?’

‘You heard.’ When I don’t move, she grabs my arm and tries dragging me instead. ‘Chop, chop, Harriet. Offer won’t be around forever.’

By the wall, she lets go of my hand, walking back one step, two steps, until she thumps against it, eyes begging me to follow. Something fast and bassy starts up behind us, Vipers’ red LEDs—since it’s Chrimbo and all—casting both shadow and light over her features. And suddenly I’m sober, so one hundred percent fucking sober, my mind clearer than it’s ever been in my life.

‘Alright.’ I move in, caging her with my palms either side of her shoulders. She looks up at me, a little warily, a lot expectantly. ‘I’m assuming you’re doing this for a reason, but I don’t give a fuck what that is right now.’

I don’t give her the chance to explain herself, don’t care for it, as I crush my lips to hers. I kiss her hard, our tongues duelling, breaths mingling, and ohfuckthis is what I’ve needed my whole life. Her lips are moist, she tastes like Baileys, and her body’s like putty beneath mine.

Her hands have a death grip on my shirt but she begins moving them up until they’re flat on my chest, just above my furling to fuck nipples. I think she’s forgetting I’m not a guy but that’s alright, I’ll make her remember in a sec.

I don’t know how long this is gonna last but I’m determined to give her the whole Haz experience—to make her know what she’s missing. I keep my palms to the wall. I don’t trust myself touching her, can’t risk scaring her off. With just my body, I keep her pinned, canting my hips so she feels the hard ridge of my strap. I want to weep when she draws in a sharp breath, her kiss faltering.

I don’t give her the chance to draw back, pressing our mouths together all the harder and keeping up the momentum of my hips. The hundreds of people thronging around us don’t matter, neither does the fact that up until now, this girl hasn’t wanted any of this.

When my lungs start to protest, I pull away, catching sight of Elly from the corner of my eye. She’s watching us, one handblindly reaching out to rid herself of her drink. I don’t know what’s going on behind those eyes of hers. All I know is that she definitely wants some of this.

I turn back to Tilda, cunt clenching at the mess I’ve made of her lipstick. ‘Can Elly join in on the fun?’

She hesitates then nods glassily. I gesture Elly over. She doesn’t even need to know what’s going on; she doesn’t care either. The rest of the club recedes as I watch her draw closer and closer to our velvet-wrapped temptress.

I huff. Such a fucking tease.

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