Page 28

Summer

Music pumped through the house, pulsing in my veins. I felt sick.

North was busy with Quinn. I already knew what would happen when he left the room with her, and I just stood there, drink in hand, nails digging into my palm. She was the only friend I had.

Could I really call her a friend though, after what I was doing? I knew exactly what tonight was supposed to be. I knew Quinn wasn’t just some girl they wanted to fuck and forget. She was their payback for what happened to Aiden, their twisted sense of justice wrapped up in soft skin and tragic hazel eyes.

I played my part. It was too late to regret it, and in all honesty, I should have felt victorious. Vindicated. Instead, my stomach twisted, my throat burned, and all I could do was watch the people around me while I waited for North to come out.

But, like always, the trajectory of my gaze changed and soon I was watching him again.

Connor.

He was leaning against a wall outside, his drink dangling from his fingers. I doubt he came out here to get a breath of fresh air like I had. His expression was cold. Detached. Like none of this mattered.

Like she didn’t matter.

Like I didn’t matter.

A familiar, bitter resentment curled in my chest, but I swallowed it down and made my way to him, the gravel crunching softly beneath my heels.

Connor didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge me until I was right there, close enough to smell the whiskey on his breath.

“Why so serious, Summer?” His voice was lazy, amused, but there was something sharp underneath. Something cutting. He flicked his gaze toward me, unreadable. “Feeling guilty for playing both sides?”

I flinched. Bastard.

I lifted my chin, forcing a smirk. “You’re deflecting. Classic Connor.”

He laughed, low and smooth. “And you’re pretending. Classic Summer.”

I hated how much I loved the way my name sounded on his tongue. I hated that I still loved him, even after everything he’d done to me.

Connor took a step closer, his scent—whiskey, cedar, and something dark and dangerous—wrapping around me. “Come on, princess. Don’t act like you’re innocent.” His lips curled at the word, making it sound filthy. “You knew what this was. You let her think you were her friend.”

I clenched my fists. “You think you’re any better? You’re making North do all the work, you haven’t lifted a fucking finger.”

He hummed, considering. “Didn’t need to, you’re doing all my work for me, aren’t you, gorgeous?”

I hated that he was right.

I hated that I had let Quinn believe I was on her side, that I had liked her. That some part of me had meant it.

But Connor didn’t care about that.

Connor cared about power.

And right now, he had all of it.

His lips brushed my ear as he murmured, “You’re just like the rest of us, Summer. Messy, selfish, and hungry for something you shouldn’t want.”

My breath hitched.

I didn’t push him away.

I should have.

I should have told him to fuck off, walked away, and left him standing there in the dark with his whiskey and his cruel words.

But I didn’t.

Because he was right.

And I fucking hated it.

“Just leave, Connor.” My voice wasn’t steady. “You got what you wanted, so go. That’s what you do anyway.”

His fingers slid along my wrist, a slow, deliberate touch. “Nah.” His smirk deepened, full of something dark and knowing. “I want a taste of your perfect, princessy cunt.”

Heat flooded me, shame curling around my ribs. He was drunk. He was a prick. He was a mistake waiting to happen.

And yet—

I was already following him to my bedroom, pretending I didn’t see the curious glances, or hide away when Vic started looking for us.

Pretending that I didn’t care that he left the light off as he shut the door behind us. No hesitation. No second thoughts. He wanted this. And I did, too.

I just wanted more as well.

I barely had time to breathe before he was on me, his mouth hard and bruising, his fingers tangling in my hair, yanking me to him.

I gasped against his lips, but he swallowed the sound.

Connor kissed me like he owned me. Like I was something to be taken. And fuck, I let him, because this was the only way he was going to let me have him.

I let him press me against the wall, let his hands slide up my thighs, under my dress. Let him rip my panties off like they were an inconvenience.

His fingers slipped between my legs, teasing, taunting.

“Jesus, Summer,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement. “You’re soaked. You like this, don’t you? Being bad?”

I whimpered, breathless as he smacked my clit. My pussy gushed. Fucking traitorous body.

He chuckled darkly, dragging his thumb over my clit. “Pretty little liar. Acting all high and mighty, but you’re just as filthy as the rest of us.”

His words made my stomach tighten, and my breath shatter. He slapped my pussy again and I spread my legs wider. I should have slapped him instead. But I didn’t. I moaned his name and bared myself to him.

Connor growled, his fingers pressing deeper, curling inside me, finding that spot that made me choke on my next breath.

“That’s it,” he rasped. “Good girl.”

I hated how much I melted for that.

Hated him.

Hated myself more.

Then he dropped to his knees, shoved my dress up, and—oh fuck.

His tongue was rough and demanding, a sharp contrast to the way his hands gripped my thighs, holding me open.

I clawed at his hair, my head thudding back against the wall, my body trembling as he devoured me.

This wasn’t gentle.

This wasn’t sweet.

This was Connor fucking McIntyre.

And I was completely at his mercy as he pulled out his pierced cock and dragged it through my wet slit.

It was quick, just like when he’d taken my virginity. I barely breathed as he pushed his cock into me. Then I gasped the moment he pulled away and fucked me, grinding his hips against mine until my spine was moving rhythmically against the wall. I swayed my hips and gripped him tighter, clenching my pussy until he gasped, pulling me away and then pushing me onto all fours on the bed.

Then he fucked me like an animal until I screamed his name, gushing liquid between my legs in ways I’d never done with anyone else.

He grunted, spending himself in me then pushing me onto the bed and shoving two fingers inside of me.

He made me cum twice more, and I bit into the palm he splayed over my lips, nothing more than a sweaty, heaving mess.

Afterward, we lay tangled in the sheets, bodies spent, breaths uneven.

The taste of him was still on my tongue. The ache of him was still between my legs.

I should have felt regret.

But I didn’t.

Not yet.

Connor stretched lazily, completely unbothered, his fingers brushing over my bare skin in idle, absentminded strokes. Like he didn’t just wreck me.

Like I didn’t just let him.

“You’re quiet, princess.” His voice was smug. “Regretting it already?”

I rolled away from him, not answering.

The party was still going outside, and my ears strained for evidence that North went ahead with the video.

I should have been out there, stopping it before it happened.

Instead, I was here. Wrecked. Used. Wanting more.

Connor smirked as he stood, tugging his jeans back on, completely unfazed. “You’re thinking too much.”

I shot him a glare. “And you’re thinking too little.”

His smirk widened. “That’s why we work so well, princess.”

He got out of bed, whistling to himself as he pulled on his jeans. And then, just like that, he walked away.

Didn’t look back.

Didn’t say a word about what this meant.

Because to him it probably meant nothing.

But to me, he was everything.

THE END