Page 72

Story: Pretty Secrets

Enough teasing.
Enough waiting.
I haven’t hung around a girl this long to get laid. I would’ve had her that first night if Oliver hadn’t shown up. Now, here we are, weeks later. “Besides, since when do you fucking care? Your reputation is about as bad as mine.”
“I don’t know. Maybe since I have a heart.”
I scoff. “Not one Knight has a heart, and you know it.”
Barclay’s jaw snaps closed, and oddly, it’s as if I’ve gotten to him. Those words shut him up.
Tiny footsteps interrupt our stare down, and I turn to find Eden at the bottom of the steps, hands on her hips. “I love how you’re talking about my sexual fantasy, and I haven’t even brushed my teeth this morning.”
Her hair is up in a messy bun. Little by little, over the course of the days since she slept with Oliver, she’s started to look more like the girl she was when she got here. Sure, she wears the clothes that are expected of her, but they’re a costume now, where before she was more than just going through the motions. She’s not as polished or put together; her makeup is lighter, making her look more natural. She’s beautiful both ways, but like this, her raw beauty shines. She’s absolutely stunning. Together, she and her sister must have been a sight to see.
“We can tell. You going to class like that?”
“No, I’m just fucking hungry. Then I come downstairs to you two fighting like little bitches.”
“To be fair, he was the only bitch fighting,” Barclay mutters.
She moves into the kitchen, and I get a perfect view of her ass as she bends to retrieve the milk from the fridge. When she turns, I try to look anywhere but at her while she gets out cereal and makes her bowl. It’s obvious something is different with her. She’s retreated more inside herself. Scared, even. It won’t bode well for whatever the Knights have cooked up next.
I say as much, possibly even more unflatteringly than I said it in my head, and she glares at me. “Can’t a girl eat her breakfast in peace? Shouldn’t you be off burying yourself between two legs about now?”
I snicker. “You don’t want me to do that. You’ll get all jealous, just like before.”
“I wasn’t jealous,” she protests, but it’s a feeble attempt that fools no one.
“Listen, if you want us, you’re just going to have to tell him,” I offer as the perfect plan.
She peers up the stairs, a worried expression on her face. Something shifted between them, but I don’t think she even knows if it was enough to change them completely. When she turns back to me, though, her face is pinched in anger. “That would work if I actually wanted you.”
“Do you hear that, Barclay? She’s lying to herself.”
“I hear her,” he says, voice low and dangerous.
I grab the cereal bowl from her hands and set it on the counter. Barclay and I sandwich her, moving in. “Do you think she knows she’s lying to herself?”
“I do.”
I angle my hips into her ass. In response, she reaches up and grabs Barclay’s lapels as if to hold on to something.
I spread her ass cheeks, giving myself a tight little pocket to rub my dick between. I’m such a horny fuck, but I can’t help it. I expect her to pull away, but instead, Barclay steps closer and she ends up sticking her ass right back into me.
“Fuck me.”
My words must pull her out of her sexed-up stupor. “Okay, that’s enough.”
“Yeah,” Barclay agrees, throat thick. “Oliver should be down soon.”
She wiggles out of our grasps. “Actually, Oliver left last night. He needed space.”
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah, he left,” she whispers.
Barclay reaches for her, but she steps out of the way. “And guess why,” she snarks, shaking her head. “Because…fuck,” she growls before turning and running up the steps.