Page 50 of Privilege
I stomp off to wake up the boys, annoyed as hell.It’s not until I step back into the cabin that I realize my wrap has been wide open, flying behind me like a stupid superhero cape, and Arnold has gotten a head-on view of my tits.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Rich
This suit feels tootight around the neck, and my head is starting to pound from the residual margarita liver quiver. I wasn’t expecting a to-scaleGreat Gatsbyreenactment back at the house, or I wouldn’t have had the last two. Or five.
I weave my way through the fire eaters and jugglers to one of many pop-up bars on the lawn. Dane has always said the best way to cure a hangover is to thoroughly prevent sobriety.I’m so ready for summer to be over.
The fedora is coming in handy. I duck my head and keep to the outskirts of the crowd, my pinstriped pants and black suspenders as generic as all the other men here. There’s something to be said for costumes, at least.
I’m restless, irritated at the interruption to the best day of my entire fucking life. I want to be back on the boat. I want Cara split open and glistening for me.I want my brother’s cock in my mouth again.
I’m still reeling.
It should be weird. I should feel terrible. But when I think about the taste of him, all I feel iscalm.
And the beginnings of another hard-on.
All of the doors to Blackstone are wide open, and it gives the impression of a grand entrance every time someone walks in or out. There’s a girl standing in the doorway, framed like a gilded painting, and even with Cara’s dripping pussy and Dane’s frantically twitching cock on my mind, I can’t help but stop and stare.
She’s wearing a slinky, skin-tight dress the colour of dark wine, covered in black lace with black fringe swinging around her knees. Her back is exposed, blonde hair pulled up into waves pinned to her head. Shiny black gloves snake up past her elbows.
When she turns to face me, it’s like being blasted by a shotgun. My jaw drops at the sight of Cara, ruby red lips quirked up in a smile, a black feather tucked behind her ear.
Dane appears at her side in slacks and shiny-tipped shoes, sporting a grey vest and a bowler hat.
My dick stands ramrod straight at the two of them side by side.
Mine.
I approach with caution; my pants aren’t nearly as adept at hiding my cock as my hat is at hiding my face.
“Wow,” I say, gaze flitting back and forth between the two of them. “You look…”
Cara waves me off and puts on an old-timey New York accent. “These old glad-rags?”
Dane laughs, and she beams at him. “You did tell me you look good in a bowler hat.”
He tips it to her, and my brother and I find ourselves crowding in on her, looming over her body, itching to touch her. He’s hungry. And so am I.
“Behave boys,” she says quietly. “Gotta findme some hooch.”
I hold out my arm and she slips her gloved hand around it with a reassuring squeeze. Dane glances out at the partygoers and hesitates; I can tell he’s about to back away but Cara catches him with her other hand and pulls him close.
“We have nothing to hide,” she says. She quirks an eyebrow at him. “Do we?”
Something passes between the two of them, something that gives me a momentary stab of jealousy, but he nods his head and distracts me with his cheeky wink.
The three of us descend the stone steps like we’ve been formally announced at a Victorian ball. There are eyes on us from every direction, the distinct flavour ofscandalin the air, but for once I don’t give a fuck.
I scan the crowd with my head held high and my lovers on my arm, and there’s not an ounce of anxiety anywhere in my body. My chest feels warm. Easy. My throat is relaxed.
Go ahead and look,I think, meeting their eyes.Do your worst.
And that is precisely when my mother emerges from the crowd.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
