Page 89 of Deliverance

My hand twists around my finger as we drive through town, turning down the Putnam Manor drive. I can still feel the measuring rings I tried on. After Thomas picked me up, we made a stop at Tiffany’s. My finger was measured, and I was congratulated by all the staff. Obviously, I couldn’t tell them that I had actually not been proposed to, nor have I accepted. That was intentional, though. I won’t be getting proposed to. I don’t get a say. I’m marrying Thomas Booth, whether it’s what I want or not is irrelevant. It’s what my father wants, or at least what Thomas wants bad enough that he’s convinced my father.

Thomas reaches out, stopping me from fidgeting as he rests his hand on top of mine. I feel my stomach curl just at his touch as I close my eyes and prepare myself for tonight. It’s Liam’s induction celebration tonight. Everyone will be there like we were for Asher’s. Unlike Asher, Liam is the life of the party. Where he disappeared to within the first ten minutes of his ceremony? I’m not sure, but I anticipate it to be a long night of partying. At least for Liam.

The buzz that I had started before Thomas picked me up is already beginning to wear off and I can feel my body craving more. My eyes bounce around in the town car, knowing my flask is only just out of reach in my small purse. Deciding the hell with it, I bend down, grabbing my purse from the floorboard and rifling through it. Panic hits me when I suddenly can’t find it. I begin shuffling my things around before Thomas speaks.

“Looking for this?” he asks.

I glance to see him holding my flask, shaking it playfully before he twists off the cap and takes a sniff. His nose wrinkles as he shakes his head.

“Straight vodka? Sweet girl, that’s only what alcoholics sip on.”

I don’t respond as he reaches down into a side compartment, grabbing out two glasses and a bottle of what I’m assuming is scotch. He pours us three fingers each and hands me a glass. I greedily grab it, slamming it back, because I know I’m going to need it.

It’s funny; I’ve been so used to the burn of vodka, I hardly even feel the scotch slither down my throat. That’s probably a bad thing to get used to, if I’m honest. The head change that comes makes it worth it, though.

Thomas watches me with an amused smile as he offers up his glass. Hesitantly, I look up at him before taking it. I drink this one slower, allowing my throat to work the liquid down. Of course, he doesn’t miss a second of it, his mouth practically salivating as he watches me.

When I’m finished, he plucks the glass from my hand and drags me into his lap. Sloppy kisses are scattered across my neck, and I know I have to arch into him and pretend to like it, or he’ll hurt me like he did the last time I didn’t. A few bruised ribs are nothing to look past. I’d even wager that Thomas has a worse temper than my own father. I didn’t think it was possible.

“I like when you get yourself all fucked up. You’re so pliable for me. Such a good girl, aren’t you?”

“Mhmm,” I murmur as the buzz of the alcohol begins to take hold of me.

Thomas’s hands slide under my dress, spreading me open before shoving two fingers inside. I’m not wet at all, and it hurts like hell, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He finger fucks me as the car goes down the road before stopping in front of the valet. When it parks, he hisses out a frustrated breath at the interruption, practically tossing me to the other side of the car as he opens the door and steps out. I catch myself quickly, avoiding smashing my head into the door as I right my dress. Just in time, too. Thomas comes around, opening my door like the supposed gentleman he is before offering me his arm.

I slip my hand through the crook of his elbow as he walks us into the house. Several people rush to greet us, complimenting my outfit and congratulating him on some merger, I guess. I feel my footsteps start to sway, and the one good thing about Thomas is that he keeps me standing, practically dragging me with him everywhere we go.

We move from group to group socializing, him more so than me. I just stand up and try not to fall because the world is fucking spinning right now.

My eyes move around the room lazily, having to focus extra hard to make out anything before I stop on a set of beautiful red curls I’m dying to run my fingers through. She’s wearing a tight fitting black dress that I’m sure her mother can’t stand, with long sleeves and an open back. I can practically feel how soft her skin is against my lips. Remember the way her neck smells when I wake up with my face buried in it after sleeping in her arms all night.

Of course, she isn’t alone. I watch as that same fucking brunette grabs her hand. They share a secretive look, scoping out their surroundings before running off to the bathroom together. One guess as to what they’re going to do. Before I realize what’s happening, my feet are moving, carrying me towards them when Thomas reaches out his arm, stopping me roughly before dragging me back into his side.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Bathroomz,” I slur, looking up at him and the couple we were talking to.

The wife purses her lips with concern in a way I fucking hate as Thomas fakes a laugh and shakes his head.

“I think you’ll be alright. Better to stay by me, sweet girl.”

I know that wasn’t a suggestion, it was a command. Giving him a short nod, I stay glued to his side, but my eyes never leave that bathroom hallway. Not for a second.

Chapter Thirty Three

Maggie

“What’s gotten into you?” I whisper with a laugh.

Maryia smirks as she looks over her shoulder at me. We move past the main bathroom downstairs with all the stalls before moving to the back of the house. This place is like a fucking mansion, but when we’ve been coming here since we were kids, you learn it quickly. Pulling us into the single bathroom down a back hallway, she locks the door behind her before giggling. I smile at her as we practically smash together. Our mouths, our hands, our hips. We’re everywhere, all over each other.

I kiss my way down her neck and she sighs as she tips her head up to the ceiling.

“I missed you,” she moans.

I smirk against her skin as I pepper her chest with kisses.

“Sweetheart, I ate you until you came all over my face before we got dressed to come here,” I tease.

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