Things I Wanted To Say: Chapter 35

“YOU DON’T THINK it’s too much?” I stare at my reflection in the mirror, turning this way and that. We’re in Sylvie’s room, getting ready for a party that one of the neighbors is throwing tonight.

And by neighbors, I mean some giant palatial estate like this one, and there will be hundreds of people there, most of them close to our age. There will be booze and drugs and things will no doubt get out of control. Sylvie is beside herself in glee over all the potential this party has tonight.

Potential drama, I’m sure.

And one thing this dress will bring is major drama.

“You’re covered,” Sylvie says reassuringly, moving to stand right next to me so we can both stare into the mirror.

“It’s super short.”

“You have long legs. They look even longer in that dress.” She smirks. “At least your tits aren’t hanging out.”

“Right, because the entire back is open instead. No biggie.” I turn to the side, sinking my teeth into my lower lip as I contemplate myself in this dress. One wrong move and I’ll expose side boob. My gaze meets Sylvie’s in the mirror. “It’s too much, don’t you think? I want to make a good impression.”

“All the girls will be wearing dresses that are too short or their tits will be falling out of the top,” Sylvie says, rolling her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, who are you there to impress?”

Easy for her to say. She grew up in this atmosphere, with these people. Her position among society and her friends is solid. Me? I’m the girl no one knows. Once they figure out exactly who I am, they’ll be shocked to see me hanging out with the Lancasters.

But I’m the one who also bought this burnout black velvet patterned dress, thinking it was a solid choice. While it felt like the right purchase when we were in the store, now I’m worried.

Too late for that, I guess.

We finish getting ready. Sylvie’s dress is a dark burgundy velvet, form fitting like mine, but with spaghetti straps and a low neckline. My tits would actually be falling out of that dress, but Sylvie is smaller than me and carries it off perfectly. I curl her hair and then she straightens mine, and we both put on heavy eye makeup, with lots of dark liner and shadow.

“Going for the sexy, smoky look,” Sylvie says as she snaps her Chanel eye quad shut and reaches for a nude lip liner. “Pale lips though, or it’ll be too much.”

I follow her lead, applying a light pink lip gloss to my pursed lips before I check out the finished product.

Not bad, I think as I take myself in.

“You look amazing,” Sylvie tells me, her voice sincere.

“So do you,” I say.

“All the boys at the party will lose their minds when they see you. They love fresh meat,” she continues, making me laugh nervously.

“I don’t know about that.” I fidget with the hem of my dress, uncomfortable at being called fresh meat. And there’s only one boy I’m interested in. “Is Whit coming with us tonight?”

“He said he was,” Sylvie answers, sounding bored. She doesn’t even look at me. “I texted him earlier.”

I haven’t seen Whit all day. Not even a glimpse of him. After what happened last night, it feels like there’s been a major shift between us. Like maybe we could acknowledge that we’re…

Together.

Then again, after not seeing him all day long, I’m now completely unsure and annoyed with my insecurities. Or I’m just reading too much into our so-called relationship in the first place. We don’t actually have a relationship. He’s just using me for whatever reason. Though I definitely know it has nothing to do with my journal or getting revenge on my family because of my mother’s affair with his father.

It’s about us. And how we’re drawn to each other, despite everything.

“We should go,” Sylvie says, interrupting my thoughts. “It’s already almost nine.”

“When did the party start?” We had a late lunch and I should be hungry, but nerves killed that vibe.

“Eight, but no one shows up on time.” Sylvie grabs her phone and texts someone, receiving a reply almost immediately. “Whit says he’s ready too. We’ll meet him downstairs.”

Nerves now threaten to swallow me whole.

“Can I leave my stuff here?” I wave at my cosmetics bag, and my phone sitting next to it.

Sylvie frowns. “You’re not taking your phone?”

“Where would I keep it?” I point at myself. This reminds me of our conversation on Halloween, which was not a good night for me.

I shove all of those unpleasant memories into the far recesses of my brain.

“True that. I’m leaving my phone too.”

We exit her room and Sylvie grabs my hand before we start down the hall, stopping me. “Spence might show up tonight.”

I raise a brow. “Your Spence?”

Sylvie scowls. “He’s not mine. He doesn’t belong to me.”

“Right, he’s just completely hot for you and dying to get with you,” I tease.

Her scowl disappears, replaced by a sly smile. “Think he’ll like the dress?”

“He’ll freaking love it,” I say firmly as we approach the staircase.

We pause at the top of the stairs and I see Whit standing down in the foyer, waiting for us with an impatient expression on his handsome face.

My breath catches in my throat at first sight of him. Wearing a black suit that fits him to utter perfection with no tie, his pale gray shirt unbuttoned at the neck. He’s frowning as he types something on his phone, glancing up when he hears the click of our heels on the marble floor.

“Brother dearest, we’re ready,” Sylvie announces, shoving me slightly so I have no choice but to walk down the steps first, alone.

Whit’s gaze never strays from me as I make my way down the stairs. The stilettos I’m wearing are high, but somehow I keep my balance, and I approach him with a faint smile on my face, fighting the nerves that make my stomach churn.

“Hi,” I murmur.

He scowls, his voice low as he asks, “What the fuck are you wearing?”

His tone renders me completely still, and we stare at each other as Sylvie bounds down the stairs.

“You don’t like it?” I whisper just as she approaches.

“We’ll discuss it later,” he snaps, going to his sister and offering his arm. “Let’s go, Syl.”

I follow behind them, trying to ignore the wave of disappointment threatening to overtake me. Why does he make me feel like this? Like all I do is fuck up every time I’m in his presence? It’s maddening. He’s maddening.

We climb into the back of the town car, the three of us occupying the passenger seat with me in between them. I’m pressed up next to Whit, absorbing his warmth and I wish I could lean into him. Beg him to tell me where I went wrong with my dress choice.

I thought for sure he’d like it.

He presses his thigh against mine for the entire drive, his heat seeping into me and making my blood hot. Sylvie chatters nonstop, oblivious to Whit and mine’s quiet regard. The tension between us ratchets up. High. Higher. Until I can barely breathe.

Within minutes we’re pulling into the front of the gorgeous estate and Sylvie is reaching for the door handle to get out of the car.

“We’ll be out in a minute,” Whit tells her, grabbing my arm to keep me from scooting across the seat and out of the vehicle.

Sylvie climbs out, turning to bend down and peer into the car, watching us with a frown. “If you say so.”

She shuts the door, the car silent save for my shaky breaths. The privacy window is up, so the driver has no idea what we’re doing and when I chance a glance at Whit, I find he’s already watching me, that ever-present frown on his too handsome face.

“You’re showing too much skin,” he says, cutting right to the chase.

Relief floods me. I thought he was angry with me. And I don’t think I can bear that. Not after what we experienced together last night.

“I’m pretty well covered up,” I protest and he shuts me off with a look.

“Not here.” He slips his hand behind me, his palm pressed against my bare back. “And definitely not here.” He touches my thigh, the tips of his fingers slipping beneath the hem of my dress. A soft gasp escapes me when he slides his hand toward the inside of my thigh. “You’re not wearing panties either.”

“I-I couldn’t. I didn’t want panty lines to show.” I close my eyes when his fingers gently brush the spot between my legs. “No one will know.”

“I’ll know.” He strokes me, his fingers dipping between my lower lips, finding nothing but liquid heat. “Fuck, Savage. You’re drenched.”

I spread my legs, thankful for the dress’s stretchy material. “Don’t stop,” I murmur, throwing my head back as he continues to stroke me. The wet sounds reach my ears and I’m not embarrassed. Not at all.

I’m aroused. Painfully so. I’ve missed him. Just having him look at me sets my skin on fire. The way he watched me as I walked down the stairs had nearly been my undoing.

And now here he is, stroking me as if he owns me. Commands me.

Which he does.

“You wear this dress for me?” he asks, his voice deep. Rumbling in his chest. He pushes a finger inside me and my mouth falls open when he strokes me deep. “Huh? Did you buy this for me today?”

I nod, a moan leaving me when he adds another finger to the first. “Do you like it?”

“I fucking hate it. I don’t want anyone else to see you in it.” He finger fucks me, his thumb pressing against my clit as he drives me wild with his seeking fingers. I ride his hand like the shameless girl I am, seeking the release I know he’s going to give me.

“No one will touch me tonight,” I tell him, reaching for his wrist so I can hold him to me. “I won’t let them.”

“You’re damn right they won’t. But they’ll look at you. They’ll all see how fucking gorgeous you are.” He leans in, his mouth right above mine. “You want them to look at you, don’t you?”

I crack my eyes open to find his icy gaze on mine, heat flaring in the blue depths. “I don’t care about anyone else seeing me.”

“Really.” His voice is full of doubt, and I hate that.

“Only you.” I touch his face. Streak my fingers down his cheek, my touch gentle.

He ducks his head away from my fingers and removes his hand from my pussy. I literally cry out at the loss, aching with need. With hurried movements, he undoes his belt, unsnaps and unzips his trousers and slips them along with his boxers down his legs, until they puddle around his ankles. I watch as he wraps his fingers around his shaft and begins to stroke.

“Come here,” he demands and I go to him, falling to my knees on the floorboard of the car, suddenly greedy for him. Ravenous. I wrap my lips around the head of his cock and swallow as much of him as I can before I release him, sticking my tongue out so I can lick the veiny length. He doesn’t look away as I suck and lick, tracing the flared head with my tongue, lapping at the precum leaking from the tip.

“Fuck me,” he says, his fingers gripping my hair tightly, his gaze never straying from my mouth and what I can do with it. “Suck it.”

I suck him deep. As deep as I can. He lifts his hips, the head bumping the back of my throat and still I take it. I push his hand away and wrap my fingers around the base, guiding him, keeping my rhythm as I bob up and down on his cock. His entire body quickly grows tense and I know it won’t take long for him to come.

But he rips himself out of my mouth, our ragged breaths filling the steamy confines of the car as we stare at each other.

Without a word I climb on top of him, straddling his hips before I sink myself onto his thick cock.

Our moans mingle in the air as I begin to ride him. He slips his hands around me so they settle on my bare ass, guiding me, holding me. I lean into him, pressing my mouth to his, losing myself in his delicious kiss. Our tongues dance and lick, a whimper sounding low in my throat. This is what I’ve missed all day. Being with him. Having him inside me. I want him all the time.

Every single minute.

We don’t last long. We’re both too keyed up. I tumble first, headlong into my orgasm, the shudders taking me over, my inner walls milking the orgasm right out of him. He falls quickly after, his mouth on my neck, his hands still gripping my ass, kneading my flesh as he holds me to him and spills inside of me with a shudder.

I clutch him close as we catch our breaths, his face against my neck, his cock still inside me. Until finally, we pull away from each other, and I shift to the side so I’m sitting on the seat next to him.

“Keep me inside you,” he says, grabbing my hand and pressing it against my pussy before he lets me go.

I can feel his semen drip onto my fingers and I lift my hips, trying to keep it inside me, but it’s no use.

“That’s…impossible,” I say, watching as he tucks himself away and zips himself back up. He runs his fingers through his hair, sending me a look.

“Nothing is impossible if you want it bad enough,” he whispers, ducking his head so his mouth brushes mine as he speaks. “I want to watch you walk around the party tonight and know that my cum is dripping down the inside of your thighs. I want people to smell it on you when you stop and talk to them. I want people to know you just got fucked and you belong to someone else. To me. Do you understand?”

Just like that I want him again. How does he do this? With just a few words?

His hand comes up to grip my chin, his fingers pressing as he forces me to look at him. “Do you?”

I nod, my heart heavy in my chest as I whisper, “Yes.”

“Good.” He kisses me, and it’s soft and sweet and completely unlike our usual kisses. I want him to kiss me like this forever. “Get out of the car.”

I do as he says, always the good girl for Whit. I climb out of the car, feeling the unmistakable sensation of his cum leaking out of my body, coating the inside of my thighs. I don’t do anything about it. Instead, I walk up the steps, putting extra swish in my hips as I do, knowing Whit is right behind me, staring at me the entire time.

I hope he likes it. Even more? I hope he can smell himself on me.

He’s marked me. Like I’m his territory.

And I don’t mind. Not one bit.