Prick Read online

Page 29

  “I don’t want to come on --” she starts to say, but I silence her, plunging my fingers inside her, quickly and without warning. Her eyes close lightly, and she brings her hands down to grip my shoulders. I stroke her slowly, on her most sensitive place, and I can feel her body give way like she’s slowly melting. Pressing my palm firmly against her clit, I continue to stroke her, and she grinds against my hand.

  “No?” I whisper. “Tell me you don’t want to come on me. ”

  “Caulter,” she says softly.

  “Yes, Princess. ”

  “Fucking. . . stop calling. . . me that. ”

  The way she gets her words mixed up, her voice breathy, makes me even more heated. I lean close to her ear. “Then stop acting like a princess,” I say.

  Downstairs, a door opens and Senator Douchebag's voice rings out as he talks to a woman with a thick Boston accent. Katherine’s eyes fly open, and she looks at me, her expression anxious. But she still presses against my palm, and even though I pause momentarily, I resume again.

  "Caulter," she warns.

  I lean close to her, my mouth against hers, and take her bottom lip between my teeth. “Do you want to come?” I speak the words into her mouth.

  “Someone…. don’t…. ” Her pussy feels tight on my fingers as it grips them. I can't help but imagine my cock in its place.

  “Say you want me to make you come, Kate,” I tell her. “Hurry. You have a minute before someone finds you. ” As if on cue, the voices downstairs get louder, the woman giving directions like she's ordering around a couple of children.

  “I don't. . . want. . . oh, Caulter,” her words come out in gasps. She’s so close, and her face is so filled with lust for me that what I do next is almost as much torture for me as it will be for her. But I'm going to enjoy torturing her, bringing her to the edge and then denying her. I slide my fingers from between her legs, watching as her expression changes from lusty to puzzled to furious.

  “What are you doing?” she whispers. I touch my finger, slick with her juices, to her lips, and she wrinkles her face up in disgust. “Gross. ”

  "Button up your pants, Princess," I say. "You don't want mommy and daddy dearest to see you with your pants around your ass. " I open my mouth and make a show of putting my fingers that were inside her, into my mouth, licking off every last bit of her juices. She watches me, wide-eyed.

  “Shit. ” Katherine rushes to button her pants, still staring at me. Downstairs, her father calls our names. “Coming!”

  “Not anymore, you’re not, Princess,” I say, winking. “Unfortunately. ”

  “Shut up,” she barks, glaring at me. “Shit. Do I look like - you know?”

  “Like your step-brother just had his fingers inside your pussy and you're about to go sit in front of a bunch of reporters and pretend to be a perfect little family?” I grin. “Yeah. ”

  Katherine’s eyes go as big as saucers. “Don’t be crude. ”

  “Because I used the word pussy, or step-brother?" I ask.

  “Both. ” She squirms. Her face is flushed, and the rosy red color on her cheeks matches the flush that peeks out from the fabric covering her chest. I'm pleased with my work, even if all the blood in my body is still in my cock.

  "Didn't seem to bother you before," I say.

  “Katherine!” her father calls.

  “Just a minute!” She looks at me. “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “Are you going to wash your hands before we go?” she asks through gritted teeth.

  “I don’t think so,” I say, turning to start down the hall. I have to pull the polo shirt down, untucked, over the waistband of my khakis to even make a pretense at hiding the raging hard-on I have. At least there's no wet spot on the front of my pants. “I’d rather eat pussy for breakfast anyway. ”

  Katherine rushes forward and grabs my arm, jerking me toward her. “You’re going to smell like me,” she whispers. She’s so panicked-looking that it makes me laugh. “Go wash your fucking hands. ”

  “I would have washed my hands, before you started insisting on it,” I say. “But now I’d rather just bask in your scent during breakfast. ” I make a dramatic show of bringing my fingers up to my nostrils, inhaling deeply. “It's better than the smell of coffee in the morning. If you want, tomorrow morning you could wake me up with the real thing in bed, you know. You could straddle my face, bring your bare pussy down to my --”

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  “I can’t believe you --” she interrupts, but I turn and walk down the stairs calmly, listening to her as she trails after me.

  “Can’t believe I what, Katherine?” I ask, pausing at the top of the stairs for a moment, but she doesn't answer.

  My mother and Senator Douchebag are downstairs waiting for us.

  “Caulter Sterling. " My mother greets me with a kiss on the cheek. She speaks softly, so that the Senator's entourage in the foyer can’t hear her. “I can’t believe you made such an effort. Thank you for not --”

  “For what, mother?” I ask innocently, as she draws away from me. “For not embarrassing you? I can’t believe you think so poorly of me. I only want you to be happy, and if that means donning a polo shirt and khakis, well I guess that’s what I have to do. ”

  Ella narrows her eyes, but smiles immediately as the Senator walks up behind her and takes her arm. He looks at me, with an expression that’s as close to approval as I’ve seen from him. “Caulter. I’m pleased to see you looking so…”

  “Normal?” I ask.

  “Appropriate,” he says.

  Katherine materializes at my side, and I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, only to have to try not to do an obvious double-take.

  Shit, I have to force myself to keep from grabbing her perfect little ass; throwing her over my shoulder; and walking right the hell out the front door with her, in front of her father and his political cronies.

  Somehow she found time in the last two minutes to ditch me and dash back to her room to change.

  Into a dress.

  Not just any dress. A white cotton sundress.

  A white cotton sundress that skims over her curves, flows over her hips and comes to a seemingly appropriate knee length that sways with her every movement and is in no way fucking appropriate at all.

  She's wearing a damn headband, for shit's sake.

  “Oh, you look lovely, Katherine,” my mother says.

  “Perfect,” the Senator agrees. Do they not see what I see? Katherine doesn't look the least bit lovely. She looks sexy. Sultry. Shit-hot.

  “The car is waiting," the Senator says.

  Katherine steps in front of me and tosses me a knowing look over her shoulder. Then she winks, innocent and seductive all at once.

  She walks in front of me, the swaying of her hips causing the dress to swish back and forth, as she totters on conservative nude heels. The entire thing is so exceedingly appropriate that it has the exact opposite effect.

  I want to bend her over in that dress and fuck her on the hood of the sedan.

  A man in a suit holds open the car door as she climbs inside. He glances at her ass and it takes everything I have not to punch him in the face. I want to carry her inside and force her to put on the pants she was wearing before, the ones that covered every inch of those gorgeous legs.

  When we're all settled in the car, Katherine and I on one side facing Ella and the Senator, Katherine pats my leg like I'm some kind of puppy. “See, dad?” she asks. “Caulter is even coming around, in his slacks and polo. ”

  I know her choice of phrase is no coincidence. I clear my throat and sit uncomfortably in the seat, trying not to think of cum while I'm sitting here in the car. I close my eyes and picture anything but Katherine naked, ignoring the compliment Senator Douchebag gives me about my conformity to his expectations.

  I make my decision in the car.

  I’m havi
ng fun screwing around with Katherine, but enough is enough. I’m going to have her.

  I spear a mouthful of the stupid pancakes off the stupid plate. They're the same stupid pancakes I get every year I'm forced to attend this breakfast, ordered for me like I'm a toddler incapable of making my own choices.

  I look over at Caulter, who has a mouthful of food. At least there's two of us being treated like toddlers now.

  Caulter sits beside me, my father and Ella at the ends of the table, like we’re a completely normal family out for Saturday morning brunch. Except that we’re the opposite of normal. We're eating in front of camera crews and reporters, pretending this is the most usual thing in the world. How fucked up is that?

  Reporters throw out questions that my father and Ella field between bites. It's at least gratifying to watch Ella be forced to sit in front of a plate full of carbs, moving pieces around and sipping on water. I space out during most of the breakfast, only perking up when something is directed at me specifically.

  I’m distracted by the fact that I'm pretty sure Caulter can see down the front of my dress from where he sits beside me. Well, I'm distracted by that and the fact that my nipples have been hard for the past hour. Since what happened with Caulter in the hallway.

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  He fiddles with something beside his leg, and then my purse vibrates. Shit. I reach discreetly for my purse and pull out my phone. For a second I thought Caulter stuck my vibrator in there. While reporters direct question after question at my father, I slide my finger across the screen, seeing a text from a number I don't recognize.

  That dress is the most fuckable thing I’ve ever seen.

  I glance over at Caulter, who puts a piece of pancake in his mouth. He avoids looking at me. I touch the keys on the screen, typing out a response as I feign paying attention as a reporter directs a question at me. “Katherine, have you decided on a major?”

  Art, I want to say. I open my mouth, ready to declare my undecided-ness for the entire world, and my father interrupts me. “Law, isn’t it, Katherine? Pre-law?”

  I pause. Fuck you, I think. But I smile instead. “Law,” I say. “Yes. Law. ” I hit “send” on the phone, underneath the table.

  How did u get my number u stalkr. lve me alone.

  Caulter looks down beside him. A minute later, I feel my phone vibrate again.

  This syrup doesn’t taste nearly as sweet as you. I can still smell you on my fingers.

  When I look at him, he's closing his mouth around a syrup-coated piece of pancake and licking his lips dramatically. I'm not sure whether to be turned on or appalled at the balls he has to text something like that right here in the middle of this event, surrounded by reporters and at the same table as my father.

  I type out a response.

  U r not ever ever ever tasting me.

  “Caulter, how are you and Katherine getting along now? Was the photo in the paper a one-time occurrence, or is there real tension between you?”

  My heart stops, and I reach for a glass of water. Is there real tension between us? My mind flashes immediately to the image of Caulter with his hand between my legs, his fingers bringing me to the brink of insanity right there in the middle of the hallway with my father and his new bride waiting downstairs. Is there tension between us? I'm preoccupied with Caulter. I can't decide if I want to throw him over a cliff or let him bend me over and fuck me.

  “I can’t answer for Katherine,” Caulter says, his voice interrupting my thoughts. “But the incident in the paper was really taken completely out of context. We were actually joking around, arguing over -- coffee, was it?"

  "Coffee. " One of the reporters chuckles.

  "I think with two teenagers as obviously bright and talented as these, there will be similarly heated discussions in the future as our two families merge. " My father's voice booms.

  As our two families merge.

  He doesn't know what kind of merging Caulter and I have been doing. I avoid eye contact with Caulter as my phone vibrates again.

  I'm going to merge with you.

  I roll my eyes and reply.

  Corny. Also, no. Just no.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Caulter smirk, and he taps on the phone while still nodding along with a point someone is making about an issue I don't give a shit about. I can't think of anything except the fact that my panties are damp, and I'm concerned that when I stand up, the evidence of my attraction to Caulter will be right there for the entire world to see.

  I look down at my phone.

  I'm going to bend you over, pull that dress up, and slap your ass good and hard.

  Heat rises to my face as I think about Caulter sending all the plates and silverware on the table crashing to the floor with one dramatic gesture of his arm, then taking me right here in this little mom and pop cafe.

  What the hell is wrong with me? I'm becoming a sex-obsessed lunatic.

  I hit the power button on the phone and focus on the breakfast. I'm determined to put all of this nonsense out of my head. I pointedly ignore Caulter, who nods and smiles and answers questions politely, all things that are so unlike Caulter that it puts me on edge. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Instead, we make it through breakfast completely free of any incident. I can tell that his mother is just as surprised as I am. My father smiles happily, pleased, I'm sure, that we've behaved ourselves.

  “The driver will take you and Caulter back,” he says outside, walking toward a car with Ella.

  “What?” My voice sounds like a squeak. My father is the king of surprises.

  “I have another speaking engagement. ” He doesn’t even bother to explain. "You kids did great. "

  Behind me, Caulter chuckles. “Alone in the car. Alone in the house. Do you think you can resist, Princess?”

  I roll my eyes. “I’ll be fine. ” I’m still bending forward, ducking as I slide into the car with Caulter behind me, when I feel his fingers reach up and graze my panties. I nearly jump out of my skin, slapping his hand. He just laughs, as if he just did something completely appropriate. When I slide to the other side of the seat, he grins.

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  “This limo is just not that big, Princess,” he says.

  “Shut up. ”

  We’re driving, the privacy screen up, when Caulter slides over and reaches for my leg, pulling my thigh toward him. I jerk my legs closed, glancing toward the front of the car where the driver sits. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Worried?” he asks softly.

  I shrug. “No. I’m not interested. ”

  “I’m sure he can’t hear us,” Caulter says. “Your father wouldn’t let someone record him. ”

  I wrinkle my brow. “Are you seriously suggesting my father is banging women -- your mother -- in the back of limos?”

  Caulter laughs. “Obviously, you’re the one with sex on your mind,” he says. “No, I wasn’t suggesting that. Thanks for the image though; I might have to bleach my brain now. I was saying that I’m sure he talks about stuff with people he doesn’t want recorded, so I doubt very much that we need to worry. ”

  “Well, unlike you, I’ve never had a reason to even think about hiding what I do in the back of limos. ”

  “It's not my fault you live a sheltered life, one without orgasms. ” He returns his hand to my thigh, sliding his palm up the side of my leg, and I slap it, but he only grips it more tightly.

  “I’ve had plenty of orgasms, thank you very much. ” I’m not lying; I mean, I’ve given myself plenty of orgasms.

  Caulter laughs, the sound mocking. “Not the kind of orgasms I give,” he says.

  “You have no idea what kind of orgasms I’ve had without you," I say, rolling my eyes. But I can't help but wonder.

  Sliding his hand over my thigh, he reaches between my legs. “Your panties are soaked,” he says. “Are we just going to keep
pretending you don’t want me?”

  “I can’t stand you,” I protest.

  “I don’t much like you either, Princess,” he whispers, his voice gravelly. I flinch when he speaks the words, as if he’s hit me, and the movement doesn’t escape him. “What? You don’t like hearing that from me?”

  I shrug, even though he’s right. It bothers me, but I can’t imagine why. “Whatever. I don’t care if you like me or not. And --” I nod toward the window, at the driver.

  Caulter smiles, and leans close to my ear. “I already told you he can’t hear us and he can’t see us. ”

  “You don’t know that for sure," I say, my resolve already weakening. "And he would tell my father. ”

  “So you’re entertaining the idea. ”

  “I am not. ”

  “Live life on the edge,” he whispers. “Take a little risk once in a while, Princess. ” He doesn’t move for a minute, and then, his head looking forward and his movements smooth, he pulls my thigh toward him with one hand and reaches between my legs with the other.

  I already know what he's going to find. He's going to find that my panties are absolutely drenched. I'm already aware of that. I hate that my traitorous body melts under his touch.

  “You’re the Devil,” I protest, my brain insisting that doing this with him is so wrong. I'm not the girl who lets go, lets someone like Caulter touch her in the back of a limo.

  I squeeze my legs together, but it doesn’t faze him. It only traps his hand between my thighs, leaving his fingers pressed against my pussy lips. He still moves his fingers, and it sends a shock of arousal coursing through my body like electricity. I want desperately to let go. I want him to take me higher, but I don’t know that I can. I don’t know that I should. In fact, I’m certain that I shouldn’t.

  I wrap my hand over his wrist, intending to peel it away, but instead, I press it against me. I hold his fingers tight between my legs, the heat radiating into me through the cotton fabric of my panties. I can’t think about anything except having his fingers back inside me, where they were this morning. Hell, I don't want his fingers -- what I really want is his cock.

  He moves closer to me, whispers in my ear. “You're wet. Admit that it's because of me. We both know it is. "

  I ignore him, but part my legs slightly, and he takes that as an invitation to pull my panties to the side, revealing my pussy. I inhale cool air through my mouth, every part of my body aching for his touch.