Bree moaned, clutching at the balcony railing, wondering when she’d put her foot up on a planter so she could spread herself further. And then she climaxed, hard. Bree tossed her head back. God. Dear God.
“What the—?”
Bree’s eyes snapped open, her body still pulsing.
“Trent,” Tina said, a self-satisfied smile on her face. “Just the man I’ve been waiting for. Come here and fuck me while I make out with your friend!”
“What are you doing?” Trent said, his face slack with shock.
“I don’t know,” Bree moaned. All she knew was that she was still spasming in pleasure, her orgasm going on and on and on.
“Did you give her something?” Trent asked Tina.
“Just another drink. But she didn’t drink it all.”
“Fucking-A,” Bree heard Trent say. An arm wrapped around her. Bree collapsed. “Maybe somebody else slipped her something.”
“Calm down. I just sucked her off.”
“You’re a fucking slut.”
“She could have told me to stop. I didn’t force her.”
“Trent, no.” Bree said. “She’s right, this was my choice. I could have stopped her.”
“See,” she heard Tina say.
“No. You didn’t want her, Bree. It was the alcohol or . . . whatever.”
“No, I wanted it. I liked it.”
She looked over at the blonde. “Tina . . . I don’t know what to say. I’m not usually attracted to other women.” Bree closed her eyes, then opened them again. “And it’s been so damn long since someone’s kissed me.”
Trent wanted to lash out. Not at Bree. She’d been through enough. At Tina. At Stan. At the whole damn world.
Instead he found Bree’s clothes, helped her slip them on, then spirited her away. She was still woozy. Maybe drunk. He didn’t know.
He’d call Stan first thing in the morning, he vowed. Tell him what happened. And that he’d never do business with the bastard again.
“You’re upset,” Bree said as they drove home.
“Damn right, I’m upset. We were supposed to hang out together. No pressure. I wanted you to have a good time. Instead—”
“I did have a good time,” Bree said, her eyes wide. “I enjoyed it—even if all the time she was touching me I wished it was you.”
“Ah, Jeez, Bree.”
She looked out her window. “I must be more messed up than I thought.”
A tear slid down her cheek. Trent’s heart broke for her. He drove. He hadn’t even known where he was going until he pulled up in front of his house.
“Whose place is this?” she asked, monotone.
“It’s mine.”
“I want to go back to the hotel.” And she showed no emotion. No anger. No curiosity. Nothing.
“I’m not letting you sleep alone tonight.”