Page 63 of Infatuation

She scowls.

“You were totally gonna fuck me in the pool just now, and you know it.”

She shakes her head, but her eyes tell me I’m right.

“You wanna talk about who’s full of shit? You don’t give a shit about my stupid application—that’s all an act. All you care about is feeling my hard cock deep inside you—nice and deep, making you come like I did in the club, only even harder.” I take another slow step toward her, and to my surprise, she doesn’t back up this time. Oh shit, her nipples are hard little pebbles behind her skimpy lace bra. “Aw, poor little Party Girl,” I coo at her. “You wanna fuck me so bad, just thinking about my hard cock inside you is making you drip down your thigh.” I point.

She jerks her head down to look between her thighs. “No. That’s just water from the pool, you sicko.”

I laugh. “Oh no, it’s not. It’s your juices. You’re dripping wet for me, aching for me so bad it hurts.”

“Screw you,” she mutters. She wheels around and marches emphatically down the hallway toward the private elevator, throwing her sequined dress over her head as she goes. She gets tangled in her dress briefly while it’s over her head and walks smack into the wall with a loud thud.

I grimace for her. “Ouch. You okay, babe?”

She bounces off the wall and wobbles for a moment in place and then yanks her dress firmly over her head and onto her tight little frame. “I’mfine,” she says emphatically. She pulls her wet hair out from the back of her dress and smooths her dress over her hips, her face the picture of pure defiance.

I laugh. She’s so fucking cute right now, she’s killing me.

“It’s not funny,” she huffs.

“I’m going back into Reed’s suite to get my clothes and your shoes and purse and then we’re going back to our hotel and we’re gonna fuck.”

Her lips part with surprise.

“No more terrorist bullshit,” I say firmly. “No more demanding my fucking application. I’m gonna fuck you and make you come so hard, you’re gonna cry. If you think you’re dripping down your thigh now, just wait ’til I get through with you.” I begin to turn cautiously away from her, not sure if my skittish pony is gonna stay or run, and she bangs the call button for the elevator, flashing me blazing eyes.

“Don’t do it, Kat,” I say. “Wait here.”

“You’re not my boyfriend—and I’m obviously not yourgirlfriend any more thanJenis. And, yes, Idodemand your application before you can do a goddamned thing to me—evenkissme. So there.” She sticks out her tongue.

“Real mature,” I say, my heart suddenly pounding. Shit. She can’t really be serious about going down to the casino floor without me, can she? “I mean it, Kat. Stay here. I can’t go down there like this.” I motion to my wet briefs.

“Hmmph.”

The doors to the private elevator open and she glares at me, her eyes on fire.

“Kat. I can’t go down into the casino wearing nothing but wet underwear and a hard dick. Don’t go.”

She sticks her tongue out again.

I roll my eyes. “Kat, I promised Jonas I wouldn’t leave your side tonight. Please stop acting like a fucking toddler.”

She steps inside the elevator, smirking. “Sucks to be you. Hopefully, your crazy-ass brother won’t beat your ass too hard for breaking your promise to him.” She waves. “Ciao, motherfucker.”

“Kat.Stop. Don’t you dare fucking leave me right now.”

Her pout turns into a diabolical smile. “‘Don’t you dare’? Ha! Just a tip,Jess,” she says. “Never use that threat with me—it’ll backfire every freaking time.” The doors begin closing. “Ihatethat, Jess. I really do.” She waves as the doors close on her smug face and, just like that, she’s gone.

“Goddammit, Stubborn Kat!” I scream out loud in the empty hallway. I make a long, exasperated sound like a pot about to boil, and then I turn and sprint back into Reed’s suite (which isn’t a pleasant thing to do with a raging hard-on, I gotta say), muttering words like “terrorist” and “fucking” and “crazy” and “bullshit” and “so fucking hot I wanna punch a goddamned wall” to myself as I go.

Twenty

Kat

Oh shit. Why did I just do that? What came over me? I never get jealous, ever, unless I’m in a committed relationship—and even then it’s an extremely rare emotion for me to feel. And here I was, ready to rip that bitch’s pretty little head off and cut off Josh’s balls and smash them between two graham crackers. Am I just ugly drunk? That’s gotta be it. Why do I care who Josh slept with last week? I did the exact same thing, didn’t I?

No, I didn’t.I didn’t sleep with the meanest littlebitchin the whole, wide world and thenobviouslyleave the door open for her afterwards to think there was even a snowball’s chance in hell for more of the same. Jen looked awfully happy to see Josh—when she saw him, she certainly didn’t look like she thought she’d been rejected by him a few days before.

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