Page 18 of Deliverance

“I mean, you were asleep when we came into the tent. What woke you up?”

I don’t know why, but I answer, even if I shouldn’t.

“I woke up to moaning. I didn’t know what was going on at first and then…”

“You did?” Maggie guesses.

I shrug.

She sits there for a moment, taking another puff and blowing it out.

“For a moment there, I thought you were going to stick around and watch us,” she says.

For a moment, so did I.

Not like I’d ever admit that. I can barely admit it to myself. I blame it on the undiagnosed concussion from the fight. The deliriousness of my sleep deprived ass.

Maggie offers the joint to me, but I shake my head in response and she lifts it to her mouth again. My eyes follow her closely, unable to stop. I can’t help but hyperfixate on her lips. Most of the time, she wears black lipstick, completing her alt goth vibe. Not tonight, though. Tonight, her lips are a natural shade of pink with a soft shiny layer to it. I don’t even think it’s gloss. Probably just lip balm or something.

As they wrap around the thin paper, I’m suddenly made aware of how full they are. Not in an injections way but in a ‘I was naturally born with perfect lips’ kind of way. They look so soft with a deep cupid’s bow that most women have to overline to achieve. She’s a huge contrast to her mother, who looks like she has her plastic surgeon on speed dial. There is a difference between maintenance and full on plastic surgery overhaul. You have to know when to take a break or stop all together. Clearly Calista hasn’t found that line.

Not Maggie, though. She has these huge tits and full lips with a picture perfect heart shaped ass, and she was just born like that? Just born perfect? Must be nice.

My eyes flick down to her shirt, her tank top practically straining against them. I don’t stare at women’s chests by any means, but you’d have to be an idiot to not recognize that Maggie is blessed. Drawing my gaze back to her eyes, my gaze finds her staring at me, her mouth still wrapped around that joint before she pulls it away.

I don’t know if it’s the weed, the unusual tension in the room, or the fact that I’m lonely as fuck, but I find myself inching towards her. Not much, just a bit. The movement must have been all Maggie needed, though, because her hand playing with my hair moves up, gripping the base of my neck before dragging me towards her. I resist for only a second before I let her lips touch mine.

Sparks flash behind my eyes, my stomach flipping, and my pussy pulsing once as her soft lips move against mine. She works my mouth open, blowing the smoke into my mouth. It nearly chokes me, but I suck it in, holding it in my lungs as Maggie’s tongue strokes against mine. It takes everything in me not to whimper, and when Maggie’s hand grips my hip, dragging me closer to her, reality slams into me.

My eyes fly open and I push her away, coughing up smoke, rushing to my feet and running for my room. I’ve lost my goddamn mind, I swear. This is why I don’t smoke weed. This shit is the worst. It messes with your mind in the absolute worst way. Fuck this.

Chapter Seven

Maggie

I knew it was going to be a mistake the instant I did it. Didn’t stop me, though. Not when the air shifted and tension set in. Not when she was staring at me with so much curiosity, so much temptation. Bridgette is a massive bitch, no doubt about it, but she is absolutely gorgeous and when the bombshell practically begs with her eyes for you to kiss her…well, I’m only human.

Predictably so, she took off and the moment was over. I’m making breakfast like usual, this time for an extra mouth, when Bridgette comes down the stairs. As soon as she sees me, she goes rigid, but I pretend like I don’t notice.

“Morning,” she says stiffly.

“Morning Bridgey,” Brad says. “Did you know our new sister cooks too?”

“Stepsister,” Bridgette and I say simultaneously before looking at each other.

“Yeah, I did. She’s not bad. Can I talk to you?” she asks me.

As much as I’d rather not, I know I don’t get a say. So I nod and gesture for her to lead. She steps out of the kitchen and towards the back porch before I close the door behind us. She turns to face me in a flash, her arms folded over her chest.

“Last night was a stupid mistake that I hope will stay between us.”

I stare at her patiently before lifting a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the…kiss,” she whispers, like it’s her deepest, darkest secret.

Knowing her and her reputation, it probably is.

“What kiss?” I ask, gaslighting the fuck out of her because honestly, this is the furthest from my first rodeo, and just like all the other times, I don’t give a shit.

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