“Shut up. You're not ruining anything,” Kat whines, shifting her weight against me as she attempts to climb out of the hammock.
The movement sends a fresh wave of her scent right into my stupid, traitorous brain.
Vince holds his hand out, and she takes his offer of stability and swings her legs over the edge, digging a hand into my thigh as she pushes herself up.
Any other moment, I would relish in the feeling of her hand on my bare thigh, but my focus is hijacked by the hem of her skirt, catching on the knitted fabric of the hammock, pulling it up her ass as she scrambles to her feet.
Herbareass.
“Jesus, Kat. Are you not wearing panties?” The words tear out of me, raw and completely unfiltered. Heat floods my face, a violent, shameful wave.
My vision narrows as she hikes up the back of her skirt, flashing me the delicate black lace of her thong, buried between the cheeks of the most perfect, heart-stopping ass that has my every coherent thought evaporating into the pine-scented air.
I can’t speak. I can’t move. The imprint of that lace is seared into the backs of my fucking eyelids.
Kat giggles, casually tugging her skirt down, not a trace of shame on her face. She throws me a wink, and the normalcy of it is a physical ache–as if she hadn't just short-circuited my entire nervous system.
Vince chuckles next to her, shaking his head like he knows something I don’t. I don’t bother asking because, honestly, I don’t think I want to know. I’d rather believe that he is blissfully unaware of the massive crush I have on his girlfriend and leave it at that.
"Do not let her out of your sight.”
“Not for a second,” Vince replies.
Kat waves, wiggling just her fingers, then saunters closer to Vince, draping herself over him like a fucking cat in heat. I can't tear my eyes away from how her dress hugs her curves, the way her high heels make her legs look like they go on for miles.
I force a swallow, my heart hammering against my ribs like it wants out. Like it wants her.
I sink back into the hammock, watching Vince’s hand settle on the small of her back.
“Don’t burn the place down, and I’ll bring you back a cheesecake,” Vince calls out, but I’m too far gone to respond.
The ghost of Kat’s warmth sears my skin where she was pressed against me, and my pussy demands the kind of attention I can’t give it out here.
Once the sound of the car fades down the driveway, I roll out of the hammock, not caring how stupid I look, and climb to my feet.
The screen door groans as I shove it open and stalk inside.
The cabin is too quiet without them; every creak of the old wood is a deafening reminder of my own stupid heart pounding in my chest. I head straight for the kitchen and yank open cabinet after cabinet until I find the bottle of terrible whisky sitting there like a promise.
Regret juice.
I twist the cap off and take a long burning pull straight from the bottle. It’s awful. It’s perfect.
The vision of Kat’s black lace thong tucked into the smooth curve of her ass plays on a loop. Building the ache between my legs.
“Fuck it,” I mutter to the empty room, the words swallowed by the silence.
I drain another mouthful, the liquor now a warm familiar enemy in my gut, and set it down hard on the counter, not bothering to cap it yet.
I march to my room with horny determination. My duffel bag sits on the floor near the bed. A dark green lump of who I was less than 24 hours ago. I crouch down and yank the zipper open, the sound harsh in the quiet room. I pull out a crumpled black T-shirt and pajama pants with illustrations of raccoon faces littering the green fabric. Reaching back in for underwear, my fingers brush against something firm. Something…
"Shit," I whisper. I completely forgot I’d packed these.
I hesitate for a moment before pulling out the cotton bag stuffed with a brand-new purple dildo, 10 inches, complete with a harness strap, and a black balaclava. A second mask is a hard-plastic model with a head strap—a white skull printed on the front.
Holding them in my hands now feels pathetic. I’d packed them for some stupid, kinky, fun in the woods with Justin. Now, they’re just a reminder of how badly I misjudge everything. How they always leave, and it’s always my fault. I could have tried harder. I could have fought harder for him to stay.
I wonder what Kat would think. How perfect the dark purple dildo would look as it slides into her pink…fuck fuck fuck.
