The Perfects, page 3
I want to have a good day too.
Then I want to end it with her in my bed.
I sigh. “Welcome to Hell.”
She nods. “Aren’t all High Schools hell?”
“Good point.” I love the way she bites her lower lip before opening her door and getting out. Never have I ever… a game I’ve played several times, seen a girl look so fucking hot in a schoolgirl uniform.
Seriously though.
I quickly lock the car and follow her, my hand on the small of her back as we weave our way through the crowds. Girls are staring, guys are staring, faculty is staring.
We need Captain America’s shield or something.
She ducks her head, and then she leans into me, and I’m letting her because I want to make a point. Nobody messes with what’s mine.
And even though it’s new.
It’s still a thing.
I pull her closer as we open the doors to the main hallway, and it’s like time stops as my friends’ jaws nearly come unhinged.
I haven’t dated anyone since my ex Hailey, it’s been at least a year, if not more, and the minute we pass her, I almost want to salute her with my middle finger; she looks so jealous.
Belle isn’t just gorgeous; she has this purity about her that Hailey lacks—that most girls lack. It’s in the way she laughs, she smiles, and she’s not afraid to be herself, even if that means having a jackass like me next to her or kissing the hell out of her in the shower.
We make it to her locker without anyone saying anything, and then Hailey walks up and gives her a little shove, enough that I feel it and want to fight. “You new, yeah?”
Belle looks over her shoulder. “What gave it away?”
I snort at her sarcasm.
Hailey rolls her eyes. “Look, you can’t just come strolling in here—“
“—Gonna stop you right there.” I intervene. “She’s with me, so if you have an issue with her, then you can talk to me about it. If not, run back to small dick Xander, then come back when he can actually make you orgasm, which will most likely be mmmmm…” I pretend to think about it. “Never, am I right?”
“You’re such a—“
“—back off, Barbie!” Belle shoves Hailey so hard that her books fall to the ground. “He’s mine, not yours, mine, so walk back to your castle and appreciate the fact that I haven’t kicked your soft ass!”
“My ass isn’t soft!”
Belle snorts. “Could have fooled me.”
Hailey lunges.
I pull Belle away laughing.
And then I see my friends on the sidelines getting basically everything on their cameras, smirks firmly in place.
“Gentleman.” I wave.
They all give me a thumbs up as if to say, totally cool you didn’t respond; we get it, we really get it.
The bell rings just when I’m ready to approach my friends, so I grab Belle and make a run for our first class.
The rest of the day passes by in a blur. Word spreads that a new hot girl is living in my house along with me; somehow I’m fucking my foster sister and a whole lot of other shit I don’t want to get into.
Memes are made.
Tweets.
And yet, even though I’m livid that people can be so cruel, I’m smiling the entire ride back to the house.
People are strange… I mean, yeah it happened, but who just randomly makes that sort of shit up?
Belle moans. “That was torture.”
“Correction,” I say. “It was torture before you were there; now it’s almost like a reward seeing you by my side.”
“Huh?”
“I used to stare at the birds,” I admit.
She sits up. “Wait, what?”
“Outside.”
“Duh, because they live outside. What do you mean, though?”
I pull into my driveway and put the car in park. “I used to be jealous that they were outside, and I wasn’t.”
She frowns, her cute eyebrows causing a crease to form. “And now? Now, what are you jealous of?”
“The air,” I whisper. “It’s touching you.” I lean in. “I’m not.”
“I can’t decide if that’s cheesy or just really romantic.”
“And I can’t decide…” I tuck her hair behind her ear. “If I’m a lunatic for wanting to fuck you again or just really, really in love at first sight.”
“You think that’s possible?” she asks. “Love at first sight?”
“Do you?” I counter.
Her eyes dart from right to left and then land on my mouth. “I think that if it was, it would be proven already, don’t you think? From this morning?”
“Oh, that was stalking at first sight, but I can see how you’d be confused.”
She punches me in the shoulder. “I was tired and looking for a bathroom.”
“Like what you find, though?” I tease.
Her smile goes wide. “I did. I do.”
“Then the theory is proven, right?”
“Right.” She throws her head back in a laugh. “How can you be both such an asshole and such a gentleman? I don’t get it.”
“The world’s a confusing place, princess.” I reach for my door and open it. “Just as long as I’m both to you—I’m okay with the weirdness.”
“Both,” she repeats, getting out of the car and following me into the house like it’s normal that we live together and like it’s not tense as hell once we’re in the kitchen making snacks.
“So.” She finally breaks the ice. “When do your parents get home.”
I almost laugh before I point to the fridge. “They always leave a note.”
She reads it out loud. “Don’t wait up. Out for dinner tonight, order pizza.”
They don’t leave a twenty; they leave a hundred dollar bill as if we’re going to feed the town or at least more than two people.
Belle grabs it and waves it in front of my face. “Pizza, huh?”
I lift her onto the kitchen counter and kiss her mouth. “Can I have you first? Rewards.” I press a tender kiss to her lips. “Remember?”
She laughs. “Just how bored were you in school that you bird watched, and now you’re kissing me?”
When she says it like that, I sound like a complete loser, but she’s just… imperfect and doesn’t know my past.
Most don’t.
It’s like a fresh start.
One I needed.
One that will help me forget. Which is selfish as hell, but she has a light that was lost to me when I was a freshman, so it just feels like, finally, things are going right.
The family will always look perfect despite the fractures in the foundation; she doesn’t have to know the dirty details.
So yeah, maybe I want something just for me.
Is that so wrong?
“How are you so convincing?” she asks, giving me a little shove.
I laugh. “I was trained from a young age. They do that for rich kids, you know.”
“Oh, they do?”
“It’s a very elaborate training process; they even give you a silver spoon and shove it in your mouth when you’re done.”
She slaps me on the shoulder. “How difficult that must have been.”
“They made us eat peas.”
“I hate peas.”
“Same.”
“So pizza?” she asks, her mind seems to be constantly on food.
I nip her lips again. “Sure, sorry, I just saw something better, and they never teach self-control at rich kid school.”
“Shocker.”
“It’s downright criminal.”
“You know, you’re not totally hateful.”
“I can tell that came from deep down in your soul. Is this just because I gave you an orgasm or—“
She cups a hand over my mouth like someone’s going to hear us, then wraps her arms around my neck. “This is strange, isn’t it?”
“There is nothing strange about hugging in a kitchen before eating pizza.”
“I mean everything else. Us.”
“A day at a time.”
“Ah, more rich kid training?” She laughs.
I shake my head. “Nah, that’s just life stuff.”
She nods. “A day at a time then.”
“Just one, and then another, and another. Sound good?”
She nods, and I wonder how I got so lucky to get her dropped into our house. One that’s felt so lonely that I never even wanted to admit it. Dinners were for photo ops, and now, I’m eating pizza with a beautiful girl that I can even call a friend.
I wonder what this feeling is in my chest and suddenly realize it’s happiness.
Chapter Six
Mary-Belle
His tongue could change the world—literally, all I can think of when it’s inside me. In the back of my head, I realize that this probably isn’t the smartest thing, but… I’ve been so lonely, and he’s suddenly everything I see.
Is it insane that we’re doing this right now? Again?
Yes.
Do I care?
No.
Because I’ve lived my life in the dark, afraid, constantly putting my shields up, constantly waiting to crack or fall.
Right now, I want to live. I want to make a choice for myself, not some social worker telling me where I’m going to sleep at night or some creepy stranger telling me how pretty I am.
I feel alive in his arms.
My head lolls back as he spreads my thighs wider and starts to undo his pants, but he’s going too slow, so I tug at the belt and buttons, shove them down with my feet, and then lay back on the expensive countertop waiting for more.
The incredible pizza is long forgotten.
His first thrust hits me so deep I cry out, and then he’s pumping into me like a madman, and I’m screaming his name because I don’t want him to stop.
His hips roll, and mine follow, matching him hit for hit as we both start to sweat across the granite.
I remember staring at it and thinking about how expensive it was, and now I want him and me all over it.
I want him in the stupid pool house.
The game room.
Every single bathroom.
I want him everywhere.
And with the way he’s gripping my legs and kissing my mouth—I know he feels this inexplicable thing too.
He pulls out of me just when I’m ready to release.
“What the hell?” I whimper.
“C’mon.” He pulls me to a sitting position, then picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder. “You deserve a bed.”
“My ass is literally hanging out.”
He slaps it. “Yes, princess, it is.”
“Stop that.”
He just slaps it again until I start hitting his with my fists. It’s hard as steel, and so is he as his cock strains toward my stomach and thighs.
We finally make it to his room, and he throws me across his bed and then hovers over me. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so thankful that I live in a perfect world until now.”
“No more bird watching,” I whisper, cupping his face.
“No.” His mouth meets mine, and then he’s inside me again, filling me, moving with me, clenching my hands in his, and whispering my name across my lips. “Now, I’ll just watch you.”
“I’m not free like the birds.”
“You make me free,” he says, tongue tangling with mine before he sends me soaring, just like his birds.
And I realize he’s totally right.
We’re two days in.
Things always change.
People die.
People live.
But right now—I choose to be free with my asshole bully turned lover and friend.
Or so I thought…
Chapter Seven
Mary-Belle
Good story, right?
I mean, that’s what you’re obviously thinking.
We drove off into the sunset, after you know, having amazing sex, living like perfect rich people, living our lives, and having it easy.
But you have no idea. You think that’s where our story starts?
That’s where our love ended.
Where the pain began.
This is our story.
This is The Perfects.
Strap in because we’re just getting started…
Chapter Eight
Ambrose
One week earlier…
I can’t stop.
I want her.
I stare at her door and know I shouldn’t go in. Both parents are home, my dad would flip, I’d be grounded for centuries, probably lose the car, but it’s like a siren’s call, one I can’t ignore and, let’s be honest—won’t.
I stare at my own door and, without even willing my body to do it, get up and walk over; my hand hovers over the handle. “Fuck it.”
I grab it, and then I’m staring at her door like a total freak.
It’s slightly cracked. Is that an invitation?
What does that mean?
Why the hell am I even analyzing shit right now at three in the morning when I have a game tomorrow night?
I have so many more things I need to worry about; instead, I’m staring at a damn door like it’s going to eat me alive.
Focus.
You’re the captain of the lacrosse team, and you can’t even open a door or attempt to have balls of steel in an effort to have sex with the girl you like?
The girl that’s in your house.
That the media has pegged her as my new stepsister rather than my foster sister yeah, that’s the clincher, isn’t it?
But we aren’t even related.
And yet I know my dad would have a fucking heart attack if he knew, or if he caught us, it would be bad, but it’s more than just sex, and talking about my feelings with my dad is about on the same level as getting seven root canals and both balls chopped off.
I hold my hand up to knock; I mean, what if she’s naked? Not that I haven’t seen her naked or held her naked—God, she’s beautiful naked.
I’m still stuck in my thoughts when the door opens, and she’s sleepily standing there in a pair of tiny black shorts and a pink crop top.
Her eyes widen. “Are you okay?”
“Huh? Yes. Why? Do I not look okay?”
She laughs, her smile always makes my day, my nights, my everything better. “You look distraught.”
“I was thinking deep thoughts,” I answer.
She leans against the door and crosses her arms. “Oh yeah? What kind of deep thoughts, silver spoon?”
I roll my eyes, then I look down. “About nakedness.”
“Me or you?”
“Both.”
“You’re a relative scholar now, aren’t you?” She teases, then grabs me by the hand and pulls me into her room.
My mouth is on hers before she can say another word, my hands tangle in her messy hair while she reaches for my shirt and, in a brief moment of us breaking apart, pulls it over my head.
I seriously can’t with this girl.
She’s perfect.
More perfect than this family.
We’ve been going at it more than we should, and I know that we could easily get caught, but I can’t stop, and while I know I’m a horny asshole, it’s more than the sex—it’s the connection.
It’s the fact that I can hug her.
I’ll take it to my grave, but sometimes I just want to hold her, and I want her so badly to hold me back and tell me everything’s going to be okay when it feels like my life’s going to be something that’s planned out and laminated for me, like an itinerary I want to burn but have to keep by my side and follow if I want to survive.
This completeness with her, this fullness… I’ve never felt it, not even with what people would perceive was the best of the best families.
Her thighs are hot as they wrap around me. We fall onto the bed in a clumsy, kiss-fueled fury of lust, want, desire, and need. Had I said that out loud, I would have slapped myself in the face.
But I’m living it, experiencing it.
“Needed you,” I say between kisses. Her mouth is hot, her tongue so smooth as it slides against mine like she’s testing how deep she can go and wants to devour me but is taking it easy on me when really, I just want it rough and hard, and now.
Belle flips off her shirt, tosses it onto the ground, then reaches for my head, pulling me down again for another heated kiss.
I pull away. “Knew it was a good idea to cross that hall.”
“Knew it was a good idea to open my door.” She laughs.
I’m completely wrapped up in her, in the moment, so I don’t hear the creak of the stairway; I forget that her door is still open, and we aren’t being quiet.
I forget everything but the taste of her mouth and the way she feels pressed up against me.
And then I hear a throat clear, followed by, “What the hell are you two doing?”
Belle jerks away from me, her eyes wide with fear.
I slowly turn and see my dad standing there, face pale, eyes barely containing his fury.
“Ambrose. Downstairs. Now.” He shakes his head at Mary-Belle like he’s disappointed, which I know is going to break her heart, and then gives me a light tug toward the door and down the stairs.
“I’ll be right back,” I whisper.
“No,” Dad says. “He won’t.”
Tears fill her eyes as I look at her one last time before my dad shuts her door and points to the stairway as if I’m eight.
I thought they were sleeping. Don’t most adults go to bed at like eight? Even mine are in bed early. Plus, with my practice, I just assumed he wouldn’t still be up.
The walk feels slow, and embarrassing, and daunting. We make it to his lavish office that overlooks the backyard and pool. Torches are still lit around the pond, and my dad has whiskey in a short crystal glass—his favorite and the only glass he’ll drink whiskey out of.
Paperwork is spread across his modern metal desk, along with folders. His laptop is open, showing the reflection of the windows behind him, and he looks tired.
Very tired.
“I don’t know what to say.” Dad finally breaks the silence and turns away from me. “Do you understand how important everything you do is for your future? People’s perception is everything! On top of that, it’s in the early morning, and you have a practice and a scholarship at risk, and you’re…” He pauses like he almost can’t say it. “You’re in your foster sister’s room taking her clothes off?”
