Watching her reaction closely, drinking every single movement she’d made, every blink, every twitch, I waited. She took a second to regroup before she ate the space between us, and a glimpse of that Rosie from New York shone through the girl standing in front of me. When we were flush against each other, she took hold of my cock and stared me in the eye, defying me. The water was still running in the background.
“Ask nicely,” I repeated. “And I’ll join you. Ask nicer—and I will even turn the hot water on.”
She dropped to her knees, dug her fingers into the back of my thigh, and wrapped her other hand around my shaft. Her hand was tiny, and my cock was big, so her fingers didn’t even touch as she held me. And yes, of course, it was a turn-on. She swirled the tip of her tongue around my head unhurriedly—it looked as heated as she had felt—before taking some of me in, licking me like I was a fucking lollipop. I loved her version of sucking cock. It was so different than my usual one-night stands, who Hoovered the fuck out of my dick like they were trying to pull it off of my body. No. Rosie teased me. Enjoyed me. She licked until I held her hair to keep her head in place and started driving into her mouth, fucking it as I groaned.
I was going to come, and this was out of the fucking question. Not like this. Not right then.
“Fuck, baby,” I said, picking her up to her feet and backing her into the shower. I caged her into the golden tiles, turning on the hot water. The water lashed at us. It was angry, too. I was still wearing my shoes, dress pants, and shirt, but I didn’t give a damn. My mouth closed in on hers, and we both collided and exploded like two lonely stars somewhere in the dark atmosphere.
“Was that nice enough?” She was still fighting a cough from when I buried my dick inside her mouth. The sound of her gurgling alone was liable to tip me off the edge and make me shoot my load.
“No. Not nice. Perfect. Like you.”
I lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around my waist. I drove into her so hard and unexpectedly, she cried out and not from pleasure.
I fucked her frantically, knowing that the water was still not hot enough and that I needed to keep her warm. She screamed and clutched me, and we both wobbled backwards from the impact, me still holding her by the ass. I laid her on the floor and pinned her arms above her head, holding her by her wrists.
“What the fuck is eating at you, Rosie? Why are you sad?” I demanded as I pounded into her so desperately, I felt her thighs moving away from me. Like the friction was too much. Rosie was going to feel me, all of me, long after tonight.
“Shh.” She pressed her lips to mine, sucking off the water drops from my lower lip and releasing it with a pop. “Please just let me have tonight.”
I fucked her until there was nothing left of her to fuck, until she was a ragdoll, limp and boneless and content after two violent orgasms that made her spasm under me like she’d been electrocuted.
Then I came inside her, and that was when it hit me. That was when I finally remembered that I didn’t bother to put on a fucking condom.
Fuck. Just…fuck!
I was sure she felt it. The warm, thick cum spilling into her as I found my release, but she didn’t say a thing. Even when it trickled down her thigh, and there was no mistaking it from the water running from the multiple showerheads. She didn’t acknowledge it. No. Rosie continued to stare at me through heavy-lidded eyes.
“Shit.” My forehead dropped to her lips, and I shook my head, our hair plastered to our skins. “I’m so sorry. Fuck. Sorry. Baby. I didn’t…I swear I’m clean.”
She ran her fingers through my wet hair.
“It’s okay.” Her tone held no color or emotion. She didn’t sound worried or pissed. She didn’t sound anything. “I’m clean, too.”
“I’ll go down and get you one of those morning-after pills,” I muttered, hating that we went from this to that. From pure, bare lust and healthy anger to talking about how we were going to prevent an unwanted pregnancy and potential STDs. I was trying to avert what I was sure was a shitstorm brewing inside her brain. Chicks were sensitive about this kind of stuff, Nina proved me as much, and fuck, I had gone and done the same mistake with Rosie.
“I’m okay, Dean, really.”
She put her hands on my chest and pushed me away, stood up, and started collecting her dress and shoes as I lay there, the water still hitting me like needles.
Fuck.
I FLEW BACK INTO TODOS Santos on Tuesday, leaving Vicious and Jaime behind.
They seemed to be having fun without me, being BFFs and all, so I gave them the space they needed to try each other’s makeup and sample tampons or whatever shit girls did. Because really, these two fuckers were super-tight for men. My opinion, anyway.
If anything, I felt bad about leaving Rosie behind, especially considering how I fucked up remarkably on Sunday night by coming inside her without a fucking condom. Asshole.
One thing you couldn’t take away from me, though…I was a loyal asshole, and Trent needed me. He hadn’t said shit, but I read between the lines, and in our last phone call, there was something off there. He wasn’t completely himself. Trent always had this quiet calm about him. Even when his football career was killed when he broke his leg, even when Val got knocked up and showed up at his door asking for money, even when life grabbed him by the throat and choked—hard—he always grinned and flipped cruel fate his finger.
Not in that last phone call we had, though.
Which was why I boarded that plane.
I always felt closer to Trent. From day one.
Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t born like the rest. Rich, privileged, and ready to rule the piece of the world his ancestors had conquered for him. Maybe it was because he was a decent dude, humble, and content with what we had, even though his family lived in a place that cost less than our yearly landscaping budget. Something drew me to him as a person, and he was the only man I fully trusted out of the HotHoles. The only man I ever considered telling about Nina. Not that we’d ever gone that far, but yeah.
Trent was there for me, always.
And I was going to show him that the feeling was mutual, even at the high cost of playtime with Rosie.
When we all graduated from our designated colleges all around the country (Jaime was in Texas, I was in Massachusetts, Vicious in L.A., and Trent went to some bullshit state school in San Diego), I didn’t even blink before I gave him a four-million-dollar loan to make him a partner and have him launch Fiscal Heights Holdings with us.
I didn’t blink, but my parents fucking crucified me. I had to vouch for him somehow—it wasn’t like I had that kind of money in my bank account—so both Trent and I spent our summers away from college filing shit in my dad’s office and doing Starbucks runs for free. Providing free taxi services for both my sisters. Acting as my family’s designated bitches.
And, of course, Trent and I both signed a draconic contract so Dad knew that he would get his money back.
Trent lived in a studio apartment in Chicago long after we all became self-made rich so he could pay Eli Cole back. In fact, he only just moved to a bigger place after Luna was born because he needed to accommodate the new unexpected addition to his life. I’d say family, but they weren’t much of a family, especially after Val skipped town like a fucking deadbeat dad.
I swallowed.
Logically, I knew Trent had help. His parents were there for him. But everything else about me was desperate to see for myself that Luna was okay. So I packed a bag before everyone else, leaving Las Vegas—and Rosie—behind me.
Dean
Last minute change – going back to Todos Santos to spend some time with Trent.
Rosie
If he needs anything, let me know. I’d love to help.
Dean
Thx. Again, sorry about Sunday night. Do YOU need anything?
Rosie
No. Just forget about it. Seriously. We’re both clean, right?
Dean
Right.
Since Rosie wasn’t the type to steal sperm—that was more like Val’s hobby—I gathered she was on the pill or something. It would have been nice if she put me out of my misery and said it, but it wasn’t any of my fucking business. I needed to move on and take her word for it. No matter how strongly I felt about this particular subject.
Dean
I’ll miss you.
Rosie
You’ll survive. I’ve missed you for eleven years.
Dean
I’ll make sure you get enough of me now.
Once in Todos Santos, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. I was so distracted with everything Trent and Rosie, I answered before I checked the number. It was unlike me, and the minute I pressed the green button, I remembered why.
“Yeah?”
“Jesus, finally. I thought you’d never answer,” Nina groaned in frustration. My heart dropped, and my jaw clenched. The world tilted on an axis for a second, before I gathered my wits, dropped my duffel bag to the floor with a thud, and opened up Vicious’s liquor cabinet, staring at the neat line of glass bottles like they personally taunted me. I wasn’t stupid. I saw the direct correlation between my issues with her and my drinking and weed smoking.
Every time I thought of her, I wanted to forget.
Every time I talked to her, I wanted a distraction.
And she was always in the picture. Always asking for shit she didn’t deserve. Always messing with my head. Did I want her in my life? Did I not want her? Did I forgive her? Could I forgive her? Did I want to know who he was? Was he even going to want to get to know me?
“You don’t give up, do you?” I smacked my lips.
“Not really. We’re very much alike. We need to talk, Dean, and you know it,” she purred. She had a way with words. The perfect charmer. A constant flirt. Shame it was wasted on me, but that was another reminder to how similar we were. It deflated me, because she was the very person I hated more than anything else.
“Not interested, Nina, and you can shove the rest of your ‘every son needs a father’ speech up your ass, where it belongs.”
“I have your happiness in the palm of my hand.” She ignored me. I knew exactly what she meant.