Page 34 of Bratty Badboys

Kyle kissed my bare neck, licking the soft skin above my pulse, making me gasp. “You just lay there and look like the slutty doll you are.” His voice was hoarse, making me wet, goosebumps raising all over. “You’d like that, right?”

“Yes,” I moaned, closing my eyes and arching my neck back when their touch overwhelmed all my senses, making me putty in their hands.

Yes. Yes. I wanted them.

Both of them.

All at once.

“I want?—”

The elevator dinged, surprising me as I came back to earth and pushed them away. My eyes were wide as I straightened my dress, tugging up the strap from my right shoulder and blinking at both.

“Anna?”

My eyes snapped in front of me. My mother was standing in front of the elevator with a frown on her wrinkled face.

Oh my God.

“Mom,” I said, my voice high-pitched. I cleared my throat and stepped out, glancing at Caleb and Kyle, who had both of their hands in their pockets with a blank look on their face. But their eyes were pools of molten lust, and the intensity of it made me shiver.

“Mom, did you forget your room?” I asked, wanting to take her away from them. “I can take you?—”

“Whatever,” she grumbled, narrowing her eyes at Caleb and shaking her head. “So much metal on his face.”

I clenched my jaw and turned her away. I mouthed ‘I’m sorry,’ to them and said to her, “If you don’t like piercings and tattoos, don’t comment on it, Mom. Let’s get you to your room.”

She kept grumbling all the way to her room, which was down the hall, her eyes roving over me, making me self-conscious. Did Kyle leave a hickey? He won’t without asking me, but Caleb? He might have?—

“You wore this dress.”

I sighed and looked at her. Her white hair was in a bun and even though she looked beautiful for her age, the infuriation in her eyes made her look older.

“We talked about this,” I said in a calm voice. “I’m forty-one and I can wear whatever I want at my son’s wedding.”

She rolled her eyes, fluffing the pillow on her bed. “It’s not a dress a sweet, gentle, Christian lady would wear on her son’s wedding.”

I should have known that was coming. She kept prodding me to come with me and Katie for Aaron’s wedding shopping, and we let her join us one day when we were buying our dresses. She reprimanded the employee of the store, made hateful comments when Katie or I dressed up in the dresses we loved, and kept body-shaming us.

We weren’t surprised and tipped the staff well, buying the dresses we loved even though it showed the shape of our body well with some cleavage. But it wasn’t too revealing. Our mother had always been like that, and at her age, she was too stubborn to change.

I remember being twelve and asked to change out of a tee shirt into one of my dad’s shirts because his friend from church was visiting. I didn’t understand what she meant, but looking back, I feel sad for younger me and wish I could hug her.

“You wanted me to get a white dress,” I replied to her and made sure she had her meds by the nightstand. “I don’t want to discuss what I can and cannot wear.”

“Who were those young boys back there?” She asked, removing her earrings.

“Kyle is my neighbor.”

“What about the other one?”

She’s so nosy.

I pursed my lips. “He’s one of Aaron’s friends.”

She hummed and looked at me. Her eyes were getting colder with age. “He looks like a bad-boy.”

“Mom.” I let out a small chuckle, shaking my head. “You watch too much rom-com.”

---