Fragile Things (Folkestone Sins Book 1) Page 10

  The moment gets more awkward the longer it draws out, and I’ve finally had enough, so I suck in a deep breath and open the passenger door myself, stepping out into the driveway. The clueless oaf ignores me on the walk up to the front entrance, and the closer we get, the more I’m kicking myself for agreeing to be Bingham’s date.

  Just as I’ve decided to ditch Malibu Ken the minute we get inside and worry about finding another ride back to my aunt’s later, the front door opens, and a few drunk rich boys spill onto the porch. Suddenly Bingham’s big sweaty hand is gripping mine, and he’s practically dragging me along behind him, making a show of our entrance. Not appreciating being anybody’s hood ornament, I wrench my hand away with a dirty look in his direction and catch something lurking behind his typically bland expression that gives me the shivers.

  Distancing myself from this guy right now seems like the best idea in the world, so I start threading my way deeper into the house on my own, head down, hoping to find one of my friends.

  “You shouldn’t ever walk with your head down, darlin’. That face is too pretty to hide.” Raff slides smoothly up beside me, his green eyes twinkling, and the sideways grin he gives me makes me feel instantly better.

  “Aww, shucks, Raff. You make a girl blush,” I joke and playfully butt my shoulder into his arm. He throws the same arm over my shoulders in a big brotherly way and takes a pull from his beer.

  “Come on, New Girl, let’s go see what kind of trouble we can get into.” I laugh, and he offers me a swig of his drink as we spot Sunday and Aylie, working our way over to them.

  “Hey, hottie!” Sunday winks and blows me a kiss. “Where’s Malibu Ken?”

  “Anywhere other than here would be preferable. That guy is kind of an ass.” Aylie nods her agreement, and color floods her cheeks when Raff turns his attention to her, a look of confusion on his handsome face.

  “Who is Malibu Ken, Ayls?” he stage-whispers at her.

  “Bingham Ramsey. He brought Stella here tonight.” Raff almost chokes on his mouthful of beer and Sunday pounces.

  “See?! There is something with that guy!” She points her finger accusingly at Raff. “Rafferty Essex, spill it!”

  “I barely know the guy. But I do know somebody who is going to be pissed when he finds out who Stella came with.” He shakes his head and laughs wryly. “Sun, maybe you should give her room in your Uber after the party, so she doesn’t have to ride home with Captain Dipshit.” In complete agreement, I nod at Sunday vigorously, my hands steepled together pleadingly.

  “Your wish is my command,” she jokes. “Duh, of course you can catch a ride with Aylie and me. Not even a question.” Breathing out a sigh of relief, I mouth a silent thank you to her, to which she winks back with a grin.

  The four of us stay together, a strange little island of privacy in the noise of the party until Roxy and Heller join us. Roxy squeals when she sees me and wraps me in a hug hello. Raff leans over and says something in Heller’s ear that makes the blond guy’s eyes widen slightly before narrowing back toward where Bingham and I came in. Heller nods once, apparently agreeing with whatever Raff just told him. When he sees me watching, his handsome surfer boy face breaks into a smile.

  “Looking tasty, New Girl.” He leans over and gives me a peck on the cheek. “Who needs a drink?” All four of us girls raise our hands, and Raff and Heller mockingly curtsy at us before heading to the kitchen.

  As the girls chat around me, I have a chance to take in my surroundings. Roxy’s house is beautiful. A blend of what looks like an original building of stone, with expansions and additions of modern glass and metal, it’s something that I can appreciate. I like the idea of the new being added without erasing the old, and even embracing it. As I’m admiring the house, I notice how we four seem to have a buffer of space around us that isn’t afforded to any other group here. Almost like the other party-goers are keeping a respectful distance. I wonder if that’s got something to do with the founding families thing Cecily was talking about. There’s no time to ask, though, as the guys show up with drinks in hand and Payne and Poe in tow.

  Okay, now things will get interesting.

  Raff hands me a red Solo cup, and Payne tips his beer to me in a toast.

  “Glad you came, Stell.” Tapping cups, we both take long swallows and grin at each other when we come up for air.

  Poe, the asshole, simply pretends I’m wallpaper and sits down in the large armchair, watching everything around him like a king surveying his subjects.

  Dammit! How the hell am I supposed to get this guy riled up when he won’t even look at me?

  Irritated as much by his arrogance as by the fact that he continues to ignore my existence, I resist the urge to stamp my foot and scream in his face like a bratty kid. Instead, I ask Roxy for the way to the nearest bathroom.

  “Don’t use the ones down here.” She points to the illuminated glass and iron staircase leading to the second floor. “Go and use mine upstairs; down the hall, third door on the left. People here know the rules—nobody upstairs at my parties unless specifically invited. Way more private up there.”

  Fascinated by the all-glass risers, I take my time climbing the stairs, which is probably a good thing given the height of these heels Sunday insisted I wear. I find my way to the door Roxy directed me to and open it into her bedroom.

  Holy shit.

  The room my aunt gave me is big, but Roxy’s bedroom is at least twice the size and more like a suite, complete with a small sitting room and a wood-burning fireplace. Something familiar about the wooden mantle above the stone fireplace catches my eye and draws me over to it. Running my hands along the carved flourishes and roses, I recognize the same craftsmanship and feel of both the box my aunt sent me and my closet doors.

  That’s odd. Isn’t it? That the same person seems to have made them? Do all the founding families have something made by him?

  I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t even notice I’m no longer alone until it’s too late.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A strong forearm wrapped in ink curls around my waist, and a low voice whispers next to my ear.

  “I thought you came upstairs to use the bathroom, Star.” My entire body is instantly hyperaware of how close Poe is standing behind me. The feeling is magnetic, and I allow myself the briefest of moments to lean back into his warmth and breathe in his scent. He chuckles, a satisfied rumble low in his throat, and I jerk away, moving a good five feet from him to avoid further temptation. He sets his half-empty beer bottle on Roxy’s mantle and leans back against the wall, thumbs hooked in the front pockets of his almost-black jeans. Watching me with his lazy half-smile, that damn piece of hair falls over one eye again, and my pulse stutters at how fucking sexy he looks.

  “I did. I am. Can you leave, please?” I spit back at him.

  “Nah. I’m good right here.”

  Why is it every time this guy pays any attention to me, it involves a fucking bathroom?

  “Fine. Whatever.” Rolling my eyes, I stomp over to the attached bathroom, making sure to lock the door behind me. I actually don’t even have to pee, I just had to get away from the party for a minute, and now I just want to get away from Poe. I need to get away from him. Sitting down on the closed toilet seat lid, I wonder how long I’ll have to stay in here before he leaves. Frustrated, I pull out my phone, make sure the volume is off, and find some stupid match-three game to play to pass the time.

  After about five minutes, there are sounds of movement in the sitting room, and relief floods my senses, tinged with something that might be disappointment.

  Thank fuck, he’s finally leaving and going back to the party.

  Suddenly the bathroom door handle jiggles, followed by a loud click, and the door swings open. Poe sees me sitting there, playing on my phone, and furrows his brow, silently judging me.

  “What? Never had a girl disappear to the bathroom to get away from you before?” I ask, shrugging my shoulders. “Also, I know
I locked that door.” My scowling at the offending lock makes him laugh.

  “We’ve all been friends since birth. Every one of us guys has been able to pick this lock since we were ten. The girls used to use this as a hiding spot during hide-and-seek until we figured out how to get the lock open.”

  Sighing in frustration, I stand, cranky now. Moving to the sink to wash my hands, I try to focus on anything other than how the snug black Henley molds to his muscular chest and lean waist, and how his dark jeans sit low on his hips.

  Stopitstopitstopit.

  Leaning into the mirror above the sink and pretending to check my makeup, I catch his eyes hungrily roving over my bare back and down my long legs. The clinging black jersey top Sunday picked out for me may have long sleeves and a flattering but modest scoop neckline in the front, but the back drapes delicately from my shoulders into a deep V. With my long hair up in an elegant twist, most of my back is exposed, from the nape of my neck, down almost to my waist. His eyes climb back up and meet mine in the mirror.

  With the fluidity of a prowling cat, Poe is suddenly directly behind me, and my breath catches. Never once breaking eye contact with me in the mirror, he reaches out and runs the fingers of one hand slowly down my spine, sending shivers to every part of my body. I leave my hands, palms down, on the counter, unable to stop myself from wanting to see where this goes. My four-inch black stilettos leave me about two inches shy of Poe’s usually daunting height, and I have to admit, I’m enjoying the more level playing field.

  Still maintaining eye contact, I can see his mouth curve into a dangerous grin as he realizes I’m not backing down. Enclosing both of his arms around me, his strong hands find and pop open the button of my curve-hugging butter-soft black leather pants and slowly drag the zipper down. My breathing gets faster, and I bite the side of my lower lip. Still, I refuse to release his gaze as he slowly slides both hands into the sides of my pants and pushes them down just enough to expose the hot pink lace panties underneath. He swallows hard, and his tongue slides out across his lower lip, flashing the stud piercing it.

  We stand like that in silence for a few seconds, staring at each other in the mirror and daring each other to be the first to give in. I raise an eyebrow teasingly and move my hips ever so slightly, rubbing my still partially leather-clad ass against him. With a groan I choose to interpret as defeat, he closes his eyes and leans his head back.

  Two can tease, Halliday. I win this round.

  Smirking, I reach to fix my pants and zip them back up when he presses tightly against me and grabs my hands, planting them back on the vanity in front of us, the heat in his eyes telling me silently not to move.

  Uh-oh. I might have underestimated the game a little bit.

  He removes his hands from mine and skims them softly down my sides, sending goosebumps chasing each other across my arms. Grabbing my hips firmly, he yanks backward, repositioning me so I’m not fully bent over, but my ass is sticking out, and I’m definitely leaning into my hands on the counter. He grasps the waist of my pants and slides them down my legs, letting them pool at my ankles and trailing soft wet kisses up the backs of my bare legs as he stands.

  My heart is hammering so hard I’m surprised it’s still in my chest, and the wetness between my legs is warm and slick. Reaching around me again, Poe slides one hand up under my shirt, and I’m suddenly reminded I’m not wearing a bra. Palming my left breast and holding its weight in his palm, his thumb and forefinger find my hardened nipple and roll it between them before giving it a little pinch. The moan that escapes me is quiet but deep, and I see him smile in the mirror. Moving between both nipples with the same hand now, he continues to roll and pinch and lightly flick them, one after the other, while his free hand reaches under the waistband of my flimsy panties and slides into the wetness between my legs. Hearing his appreciative purr in my ear when he finds me bare and smooth almost pushes me over the edge. Then both of his hands are gone, and I cringe as I wait for him to drop another cryptic comment on me and disappear like last time. But no, he’s got something else in store for me tonight.

  Dropping to his knees, he positions himself between me and the vanity. I move my hands to his broad shoulders as he reaches up and hooks a finger around the soaked front of my panties and pulls them to one side. Looking up at me and grinning like the devil himself, he reaches out with his other hand and spreads the softest part of me with the tips of his fingers. When his tongue flutters over my exposed clit, my knees shake and nearly buckle at how fucking amazing it feels.

  Closing my eyes, I grip his shoulders to keep from losing my balance and revel in the feel of his pierced tongue, licking and sucking at the hard little button between my legs. Something about not being able to spread my legs fully, with my pants still around my ankles, makes the sensations utterly different than what I’m used to. The orgasm builds like a hurricane, faster and harder than any I’ve felt before.

  “Poe,” I pant, “Poe, oh my God.”

  “You like that, Star?” he asks between flicks of his tongue. “You like the way I lick you?” Hearing him talk like that pushes me even closer to the edge. Digging my fingers in so hard that I know he’ll have crescent-shaped nail marks as a reminder, I try my best not to scream in ecstasy.

  “You are so fucking beautiful like this. Come for me, Star.” With those words, I break apart harder than I ever have. The orgasm rolls over me in waves as Poe’s tongue works its way deeper, riding the surge with me and lapping up my wetness.

  Once I can stand on my own again, I let go of his shoulders, and he carefully lets my panties fall back into place. Wiping his chin discreetly on the inside of my thigh, he places a soft kiss on the sensitive skin. As he stands, he slides my pants back up my legs, his deft fingers zipping and buttoning them closed. Standing there, in Roxy’s bathroom, nearly eye level with each other, I feel like something’s changed. The air around us is supercharged as he leans his forehead down against mine.

  “This isn’t good, Star. This is dangerous.” He raises his head and kisses my forehead with a tenderness I had no idea was possible from him.

  “Dangerous?” I ask, confused.

  Stepping back without answering me, he reaches for my hand and pulls me into Roxy’s sitting room. He stops to retrieve his beer bottle from the mantle and turns to face me at the door, uncertainty wreathing his gorgeous face. Letting go of my hand, he runs the back of his knuckles across my cheekbone, and I close my eyes, relishing the electricity generated by his skin against mine.

  He opens the door, and we head down the hall together slowly, lingering as our hands brush against each other on our way to the top of the stairs. Poe starts down first, and when he stops abruptly halfway, I misstep trying not to run into him and roll my ankle slightly in these ridiculously high heels.

  “Poe? Jeez, you need brake lights back here if you’re going to stop like that.” Grinning, I put my hand on his back, and he shrugs it off immediately as if I burned him. When he swivels his head in my direction, the clear blue of his sapphire eyes moments ago is murky with stormy dark clouds. He laughs, mirthless and cold, loud enough for the partiers nearest the stairs to listen.

  “You didn’t think that bit of action meant anything, did you?” He smirks and takes a pull of his beer. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’m not into trash. You may have the last name, but you’re a whore just like your mother, and you don’t belong here.” Looking me over, head to toe, with a disgusted look on his face, he delivers his harshest blow. “You aren’t good for anything more than kneeling on a bathroom floor with my dick down your throat.”

  Recoiling like he punched me in the face, and with horror and confusion threatening to choke me, the searing heat of my rage quickly dries any tears that might have been sparked by his lies and bullshit comments.

  What the fuck? Why is he lying? He’s the one who was on his knees! And did he seriously just call my mother a whore?

  “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are or what gives you th
e right to talk shit about my mother, but stay the hell away from me, you shitty, arrogant, lying prick. When you’re done playing emotional terrorist, go find somebody else to fuck with because I’m done.” My sore ankle temporarily forgotten, I make sure my fist connects with his crotch as I shove by him to get down the stairs. “By the way, acting like a dick won’t make yours any bigger, fuckface.” As I get to the main floor, I notice Hali standing just off to the side with her hellions, well within earshot of what just happened, looking satisfied and laughing cruelly, her lips twisted in a mocking pout.

  Madder than I’ve ever been and absolutely gutted, I resist the urge to physically remove the shit-eating smirk from her face, and settle for stomping the stiletto heel of my shoe into her exposed toes on my way past. Her shriek of pain does nothing to make me feel better about what just happened, but it’s satisfying nonetheless.

  It's a toss-up right now whether I’m angrier at him for being a douchebag of epic proportions, or myself for letting my guard down, and all I want right now is an escape.

  All the rich assholes crammed in here make this huge house seem more claustrophobic than any shithole single-room apartment back in New York. This new life, these new people, and Poe’s emotional hit and runs have all combined into a seething mess of rage and pain and sorrow. Feeling utterly heartbroken, I allow it to combust.

  Welcome to the self-destructive, bad decision portion of our program, ladies and gentlemen. You are a stupid, sappy girl at heart, Stella Bradleigh, and that’s why it was just ripped out of your chest and set on fire in front of most of the senior class. Thank you very much, let’s get fucking wasted.

  Avoiding Sunday and the rest of the Heirs, I go in search of the kegs, only to find Raff refilling his cup at the tap. Quickly reversing course on sight, I’m not quite quick enough; he follows and reaches out to grab me with a big grin.

  “New Girl! What’s the hurry? What’re we doing?” Jerking away, I stare straight into his brilliant green eyes.