Page 73 of Big Bad Bully
Aubrey comes, too, shrieking her pleasure. Her hips jerk against mine, her ass pressing back to take me deeper as her internal walls pulse and milk my cock for more.
I’m still coming.
She’s still coming.
It seems to go on forever.
And then I find myself on my side, my body curled around Aubrey’s, holding her like we just birthed a new universe.
And that’s when I realize how truly fucked I am.
Coming inside Aubrey didn’t free me.
It transformed me. I’m not the same man who walked in here tonight.
In fact, I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same.
Chapter Twenty
Aubrey
Tonight’s the night of the Sentience Gala. They’re going to reveal my mural to the world.
And I’m going to steal what I need to take them down.
They’re throwing a fancy party and bankrolling it with the money they stole from artists. I feel no moral qualms about drinking their champagne and then setting a match to their whole company.
Burn, motherfuckers. Burn.
I’m deliberating what to wear when there’s a knock on my door. It’s a delivery person with a large black box.
“Delivery for Aubrey Cook. Sign here.” I do, even though I’m not expecting anything. Curiosity gets the better of me.
I set the box down on the kitchen table and open it. A dry sandalwood scent wafts into my face as I part the tissue paper and uncover a gorgeous silvery gown. It’s the most glamorous thing I’ve ever seen. It even smells expensive.
Did Madi send me the dress as an apology? After she missed our girl’s night out, she kept calling all night. I finally answered after Billy left, and she apologized in tears. She’s been stressed with the wedding and running her family’s company, and Thursday night they had some crisis at work that she couldn’t get away from.
I forgave her, of course. It sucks, but I’m accepting that Madi’s life is changing. She’s got new obligations and a relationship that eclipses ours. I want her to be happy, but I’m also grieving the loss of our closeness. She’ll never be my roommate again. We won’t have endless late nights eating cookie dough ice cream and singing “Push It” in pajamas.
But we can still be friends. We caught up a little on the phone. She asked about the Sentience job, so I filled her in, including the law-breaking parts. I also told her about screwing Billy. We ended the call agreeing that we’ll have plenty of time to connect on the trip to Monaco.
She didn’t mention that she was going to send me a gift. She didn’t need to, but it does make me feel good that she was thinking of me.
Feeling warm all through, I rush to strip off my paint-splattered clothes and pull the sheath on. It fits like it was made for me. The gown is cut in a mermaid style, and without high heels the fabric pools at my feet like liquid mercury.
I have just the heels for the dress too–from Madi’s engagement party. I was going to wear that silver dress tonight, instead, but this one is far more expensive.
I look beautiful and formidable. Like a queen from a sci-fi fantasy show. The sort of character who can shoot lasers from her eyes.
I finish up my hair and makeup. I got my hair braided this morning, and I must have been on the same wavelength as whoever bought me this dress because instead of gold and red, I switched to box braids with a little silver tinsel. Just a little glam–that matches the dress perfectly.
Some silver jewelry, and my look is complete. I still have a metallic clutch that matches the heels. The only part of me that isn’t red carpet ready are my nails. They’re neat and polished but there’s some white oil paint around the cuticles. I leave it. I am an artist, after all.
And if people don’t like it, I’ll incinerate them with my laser eyes.
There’s another knock on the door. This time, the delivery is a big floral arrangement of sunflowers, my favorite flower. The note reads: “Congrats on your big night! You’re going to kill it. Good luck and Love, Madi.”
Huh. I thought the dress was from Madi, but now I’m having second thoughts. It’s possible Madi sent both the flowers and the dress, but wouldn’t they arrive at the same time?
