Sweetest Sin: Bad Boy Bundle (32 page)

“You want to talk about? Okay. Okay that’s fine. We can talk about it.” I walk into the kitchen and pull a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “Tell me. What was she like? How was she? Did you woo and romance her? Or did you just get straight down to the dirty business?”

John scoffs and shakes his head. “This isn’t cute, Kirsten.”

“I’m not trying to be cute. So. Come on. You want to talk about it? Fine. Let’s talk about it. Was there foreplay? Did she suck your dick first? Or did you just skip straight to the fucking?”

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” John says as he steps toward the door.

“Like what? How am I being? You’re not pissed off that I’m asking these questions. You’re pissed off because your secret came out despite how well you were trying to keep it from me. You’re pissed off because you thought your secret was safe and now you know it wasn’t. Because before now you could hang on to some belief that I survived the shooting and broke up with you because I was weak. And now you have to face facts that I broke up with you because you couldn’t keep your dick to yourself. Because you allowed that person who pretended to be my friend to send me to that place. Because I had to be there in the first place just so you could go and dip your dick into the town slut. Because—.”

The words stuck. I couldn’t force anymore out. John’s cheeks flushed red, but I don’t know if he’s embarrassed or angry.

Or perhaps both.

His breathing matches mine: deep and sharp.

Without another word, he races over to me and cups his hands along my neck. His lips press up against mine. All thought and reason leave my side. Almost on instinct, I part my lips and my tongue seeks his out.

As our tongues dance, he releases a deep moan that lights my core on fire.

My nipples harden. They brush against the lining of my bra.

He glides his arms down my back and lifts my leg around him. Planting the growing bulge in his pants firmly against me.

Even through the layers of clothing I can feel his hot skin.

Flashes of my trip to Thailand interrupt my thoughts.

Images of the girl on the beach. Sucking on my hard nipple. Of Jackson driving his cock deep into me while someone spied on us from another balcony.

John reaches down and grabs my hips, hoisting me up into his arms. I wrap my legs around him as I slide down his chest. Stopping just at the top of the bulge in his pants.

He lowers me down a bit further. Rubbing his bulge against my opening.

My clit quivers.

My pussy drips.

John lifts me back up. Then rocks me down again.

He walks with me wrapped around him back into the bedroom. Leaning me back against the wall and pinning me there with his hot body. His cock stretching to break free from the waistline of his pants.

Every piece of me wants the heat of an intense orgasm to build.

My throbbing pussy is ready.

I open my eyes and glance into the mirror across the room.

My legs wrapped around him, my hips still rocking against his cock.

Then my mind betrays me. Flashing images of Felicia in my place.

This is how he gets you every time
I tell myself.

“Stop,” I whisper.

“No, its okay,” he says between deep breaths. His hand reaching into my bra to grab my breast. “I have a condom.”

He whirls around with me firmly in his arms and lays me back on the bed.

My body writhes, despite the fight my mind is putting up. John’s hands glide across my flesh, igniting every nerve.

Pushing every glorious button.

He sits up on his knees and reaches into his pocket and pulls out a condom and places it in my hand.

“Come on,” he whispers. “My balls are in your court.” He steps out of his jeans and grabs my hand.

He wraps my fingers around his shaft and pumps.

I close my eyes again and lean my head back as far as it will go. My brain shoots into overdrive with a debate.

I can fuck him and then kick him out. There’s no law that says I have to let him stay after riding him.

Oh. My. God. Kirsten. You’re pathetic. What kind of slut are you?

This is why people like John and Jackson will always leave you. Because all it takes to make you stay is to offer you a stiff cock.

“No,” I whisper as I open my eyes and pull my hand away from John. “No. I’m sorry, but no. You need to get out. We’re done.”

John stares at me in disbelief for a moment. His hand still wrapped around, pumping his hard cock.

Waiting for me to change my mind and wrap a set of lips around him.

I roll away from him and crawl out of bed. “I called you. Right after the police were done talking to me I called you. After the shootings. And you never answered your phone. Why?”

John stops pumping his cock and glares at me. “What?”

“Why didn’t you answer your phone? When I was crying. And alone. Because a pair of psychos walked into that room and threatened to kill every single person in there. And I lived because they ran out of bullets before getting to me. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. Is that what you need to hear? I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. But that can’t be—.”

“But it is. Because from now on I will always wonder if you were fucking Felicia at that moment. If you were cumming all over her tits while I was staring at the man threatening to kill me. How can I ever go back to you after you planted those thoughts in my head? How could you even ask me to?”

John’s breath stops. He blinks and glances around the room.

This time the flush filling his cheeks is obvious. Shame. Guilt.

But I don’t care.

“Get out,” I whisper. “Get your stuff, and get out. I don’t want to see you again. Not ever again.”

John pulls his pants back up without another word. I take in a deep breath as John gathers the remaining pieces that he owns and stalks out of the apartment.

I
close my eyes as the front door to the apartment slams shut behind John. My reflection smirks back at me. Proud of the fact that I managed to pull away from John before I let him go too far. I sigh and shake my head. “Well, I never should have even let it get that far,” I whisper to myself, fixing my hair in the mirror.

My wet panties are uncomfortable. I toss them aside into the laundry hamper and grab a new pair. While I’m jogging around the room, trying to straighten things up, I get a sniff of my own body odor.

Oh god. When was the last time I took a shower?

I don’t think water exists hot enough to rinse away the hours and hours of airplane travel. No soap scented well enough to wash away the stale smell of cabin air. Nor even silken pajamas soft enough wipe away the rough airplane upholstery.

But no matter.

I’m going to try anyway.

As the water cascades down my curves, I close my eyes and let my muscles relax. I grab some shampoo and squeeze its vanilla scented goo into the palm of my hand. Massaging it through my hair and scalp. I turn the showered over to one of the softer settings. Rinsing the water through my hair until the suds run clear along the tub floor.

I squeeze my shower gel onto the loofa and rub it along my aching muscles. Chasing it closely with the hot, soft droplets coming from the shower head. The suds make my skin slippery. Hard to grip. I turn the shower head setting a couple more times, settling on a pulsing massage. I arch my back beneath the pulsing water. Allowing it to sink into the knots on my back.

Still, my adventures in Thailand flash before my eyes. Every touch. Every new feeling.

Every orgasm.

Before I know it, my hands are gliding across my breasts. My nipples are hard. Aching.

Needy.

I twist and flick my fingertips across my slippery nipples. Staring at the shower head.

“Oh God,” I whisper as I pinch and rub my hard nipples.

I lean back against the tile wall and close my eyes. Tweaking my nipples. Reveling at every twinge. Every tingle.

The heat of an orgasm builds up in my core. The pulsing massage of the shower water just missing my clit.

I rock my hips back and forth.

Pinching my nipples and licking my lips.

Remembering the feeling of Jackson’s hands gliding up my thighs and into my pussy.

I grab the shower head and set the water to pulse against my clit. The hot water against my flesh nearly sends me overboard.

My moans echo back at me from the tile walls. I reach my other hand down and swirl my fingers around my clit.

Massaging water pulses along my opening as my fingers dance and flick along my clit.

Shivers rip through me, making me drop the shower head. It falls clumsily against the wall, water spraying everywhere.

No matter.

I dip my fingertips into my hot pussy. Massaging inside me as I grind my clit against my other hand.

My pussy releases a waterfall of juices. My orgasm sends shivers through me. My fingers can’t seem to keep up with my grinding hips.

Still I rub. Riding out my orgasm until the shivers subside. Until my sensitive clit stops quivering.

I fight to catch my breath, staring at the swaying shower head.

That’s going to be a pain in the ass to clean up.

It’s
hard to believe I survived the three days following my return home. I don’t know what washes over me. Bravery from finally confronting Felicia and John maybe? Or from finally being able to turn John away?

Doesn’t matter. The point is, I finally feel able to face that flash drive.

I hop onto the computer and jump into my email. The number of new messages waiting for me is staggering. I’m half tempted to delete them all and just start fresh. Same with the voicemails on my cellphone. Messages on my Facebook and Twitter.

Complete disasters. All of them.

Avoiding phone calls and whittling through emails. Trying my best to set up job interviews.

All the while, the flash drive stares at me from the top of my computer monitor. Just waiting.

I pick up my phone and dial.

Then I hang up again. I snatch the flash drive from the top of my computer and jam it into the USB port.

“Time to face the music,” I whisper as I brace myself for the scenes on this drive.

Mostly homework. Papers, interviews for school. Then the video pops up on the screen, followed by the pictures.

And here we are, at the Department of Public Health in San Bernardino: the site of the next dog wedding right here in California
My past self looks ridiculous. I don’t know what I was thinking, making fun of my job like that. But she continued, without a thought.

So, tell me, Felicia. Why do you pretend to be my best friend but send me to every ridiculous and meaningless story in the state?

Oh, that’s simple Kirsten. It’s because I’m sleeping with your boyfriend behind your back and I don’t want—.

Bang.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Oh my God, what was that?

The rest of the conversation is covered by the echoes of gunshots and screams coming from everywhere. My tears fall uninhibited as Karen and I ducked under a table. The video gets cut off abruptly before the gunshots ended.

I wipe the tears from my cheeks and lean back in my seat. Debating how to handle this now. I shouldn’t have run away. I should have just turned over the footage I had when Felicia asked for it. I don’t know why at the time it seemed so important to not show this video to Felicia. I doubt she would have released the video. Too embarrassing for her.

But other stations would eat it up. I know that. A junior reporter talking bad about her editor? An editor sending her junior reporter away so she could sleep with her boyfriend behind her back?

These are the things tabloid headlines are made of. Other papers would eat it up.

I watch the video again. And again. Looking for anything that this video could have contributed to the investigation.

Finally, I do it. I delete the video. I move my homework and files over to my computer, browse through the still photos and delete the ones out of focus. By the time I’m done, the only items left on the flash drive are the twenty or so still photos.

I take a deep breath, and stare at my keyboard. I rip the flash drive out of the computer, half hoping that it damages the drive because I didn’t go through the steps to
safely remove the device
from my computer.

Walking into the newspaper offices is nerve wracking, to say the very least. All eyes are on me. I walk up to the reception desk, not even trying to use my badge or gain entry to the back offices. “Hi, Gloria. I just wanted to bring something in for Felicia. Is she here?”

“She
is
here,” Gloria raises her pitch into a tone of surprise that’s ready to gossip. “Hang on and I’ll call her.”

I nod my head and lean against the counter to wait while she makes the call.

“Hi. Felicia. Yes, Miss Anders is here to see you. She didn’t say. No. Okay. Should I call security?”

My mind races with all sorts of questions as I listen to Gloria’s half of the conversation. Why would they need to call security on me? I’ve never done anything that would normally warrant a call to security.

Not that I didn’t have a reason to.

I smirk as I realize that I just answered my own question.
No matter, I just need to get this over with so I can get out of here and get on with my life.

“Kirsten,” Felicia says as she flings the doors open and bolts through. “How are you?” She wraps her arms around me for a hug and pecks me on the cheek.

I pull away from the fake display of affection and laugh. “Okay, Felicia. Whatever. I just came to give you this.” I dig the flash drive out of my pockets and hold it out in front of me.

Felicia sighs and grabs the flash drive from me. “Kirsten, please. Why don’t you just come back into my office? We’ll sit. We’ll talk.”

I shake my head. “No. Thanks. I just wanted to make sure that you got that so you can put to rest any rumors that I stole the newspaper’s property.” I hold the newspaper displaying my headline out in front of me.

Felicia stares at the headline and nods her head. “Well, like we told you on the phone, Kirsten. This flash drive was bought using the newspaper’s funds. That means that it is considered newspaper property.”

“That’s bullshit, Felicia, and you know it.”

“Okay, fine. You know what? I can take an early lunch. Let’s go grab something to eat and we can talk outside of the office, okay?”

I glance around at the eyes staring at me from all around. After a long and awkward silence, I finally nod my head. “Fine. I’ll go to lunch with you.”

“
Thank
you for agreeing to go to lunch with me. I know it’s been awkward between us. Especially since I had to fire you and all that—.”

“Let’s just get one thing straight. You didn’t fire me. I quit. And it’s not awkward because I quit. It’s awkward because of the reasons why I quit.”

“Kirsten.”

“Hi!” The waitress chooses that exact moment to interrupt our inevitable argument. “My name is Kathy and I’ll be your server this afternoon. How are you ladies doing today?”

“We’re fine.” I hope the waitress can pick up on my impatience through my voice.

“Great. So, if I can just take a couple minutes to run over today’s specials. The soup of the day today is—.”

“You know what. We don’t really need to know what the specials are. We’re probably just going to hit the salad bar so it’s fine,” I said as I shove my menu over to the waitress.

She blinks and grabs my menu off the table before turning her attention over to Felicia. Then she continues her sentence without even skipping a beat. “Tomato basil bisque. And of course we always have our famous chicken noodle soup. Our classic Rueben sandwich is served with—.”

“Seriously? We don’t need to hear the specials.”

The waitress stops talking for a second and glares at the table salt. Felicia leans forward in her seat. “You know, I would like to hear the specials. Just not yet. Can you please bring me a diet soda?”

“Sure,” the waitress says as she slips away from the table.

I roll my eyes and drum my fingertips along the table. Felicia points her fake smile at me. Her cocky eyebrow raised at an unnatural angle. Her short blonde air spiked out into pink tendrils that framed her face. She stares down at my fingernails and clears her throat.

“Like. I was. Saying,” I force the words out.

“Look, it is true that John and I got together. But only because you bailed on him. Okay? He called me up, crying and freaking out about how you were going to quit. I went to his place, to your place. Your. Place. Only to find out you hopped on a flight to Thailand. Thailand. Kirsten.”

“No. That’s not what happened.”

“Kirsten, please. You always twist things around so you’re the victim. Ever since high school.”

“Ever since high school? Are you insane? You knew that Robbie Hannigan was going to ask me to the Sophomore Winter Formal. And you went behind my back—.”

“Oh. My. God, Kirsten. Can you please just let sophomore year go already? That was like a lifetime ago.”

“You slept with him behind the bleachers.”

“A million years ago.”

“That would only matter if you changed. Which obviously you haven’t because you’re the same old slut!”

“You have always been jealous. You’re jealous that I’m the editor and you were still stuck as a junior—.”

“You’re editor because you don’t know how to hold a business meeting without spreading your legs.”

Felicia slams her fist against the table and glances around the room. The waitress walks over with her bubbly smile and sets two sodas onto the table between us.

“Okay. Have you had a chance to check out the menus yet? Do you need a couple of minutes?”

“Minutes. Yes, please.” I say without bothering to look up at her.

The waitress takes the hint this time and darts back across the room to her other waitress friends.

“You can believe what you want, Kirsten. You don’t want to believe that I was a good friend to you. Fine. But that doesn’t change the fact that you knew that flash drive belonged to the newspaper.”

“Oh come off it, Felicia. You’re so full of it. If you really believed that, you would have come after me with police. I would have been arrested long before I had the chance to go on that vacation. And don’t give me some sob story about how you went to visit and check on me and somehow John fell into your vagina. Okay? John didn’t answer the phone when I called him after the shooting, but you did.”

Felicia closes her mouth and stares at her soda. She takes a gulp and struggles to swallow the fizzy drink. “Okay, listen. Kirsten. I know that what I said was—.”

“Wrong. What you said was wrong. I survived a shooting. I called my boyfriend, who didn’t answer his phone. I called you, my self-proclaimed
best
friend. And the only words out of your mouth were ‘did you get the story’. And then, of course, John moaning in the background.”

“You’re right. It was wrong. I should have asked you if you were okay. Or—.” She cuts herself off with a sigh. “I really am so sorry.”

I shake my head. “This was a mistake. You have the flash drive now. All I really want right now is for you to erase everything bad you said about me. If I go to find another job, I don’t want to hear how they’re worrying about whether or not I will steal company property.”

“It’s not that easy, Kirsten.”

“Make it that easy. It was that easy to spread the rumor. To make me a national laughing stock. To ensure that no one could trust me to work for them. It better damn well be that easy to fix it.”

“Okay. Kirsten, I can do that. In fact, I’ll go one better. Okay? You come back to work for the paper, I’ll give you that promotion you wanted to investigative reporter. You’ll be in a whole new department. Everyone will forget all about that flash drive thing.”

“No,” I say as I shake my head. “No. And not just because of you and not just because of John. I just. That day was too much. I don’t ever want to see anything that makes me feel the way that day made me feel ever again.”

“Wait, so you’re going to quit. Just quit journalism?”

I nod my head and stand up. “Yea. When I quit, it was for good.”

“Kirsten—.”

“No. I can’t even say that I’m done being your friend, Felicia. Because you were never really my friend to begin with. But I am done being your doormat. See ya, Felicia.”