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“I don’t know.” Turning the screen back to face him, Braden sent them both a determined glare. “But I’m damn sure going to find out.”
1
POOR LITTLE NOT-SO-RICH GIRL
LOTTIE
Brunch with The Girls might have been Charlotte Duvall’s favorite thing ever. On the surface, she knew what they looked like. A bunch of spoiled rich girls drinking too many mimosas and laughing too loudly at each other’s jokes.
But these girls were her whole world. They’d been there for her when her mom had gotten sick, ordering food and pulling strings to help get her mom into the best facilities money could buy. And later, when even the best of the best treatments had failed, they’d stepped in, helping her plan every detail of the funeral her dad had been too devastated to help with.
They were her rocks, and she loved them with every fiber of her being.
“Oh my god, you slut!” Head thrown back, her perfectly platinum locks falling down her back, Eva Barker let out a laugh that had more than one head turning their way. “Tell us everything, Frankie.”
Across the table, Frankie Legare smirked. Frankie’s real name was Francesca, but only her family actually called her that. The masculine nickname was at odds with her slender build and long, fiery-red hair. But the name infuriated her mother, and since Delphine Legare was single-handedly responsible for giving Frankie the eating disorder that had almost landed her in the hospital, it was an unspoken agreement amongst their friend group to do everything humanly possible to piss off Delphine.
“I already told you everything.” But judging by the mischief dancing in Frankie’s dark eyes, she was definitely keeping some of the juicier details to herself.
Eva narrowed her eyes. “Liar. You just want us to beg you for details.”
It was Frankie’s turn to laugh. “Guilty as charged. All right, fine, but you bitches have to promise not to laugh or be weird about it.”
“Deal,” they said in unison as they leaned in for the details.
“Okay, well.” Frankie glanced around, as if she were worried about being overheard, but it was all just part of the show. “I already told you we hooked up, and it was the hottest fucking night of my life.”
“Yes, yes.” Lottie waved a hand, impatient for her to get on with it. “Get to the good stuff.”
“All right, all right. So this guy, he was really kind of bossy, right? But like in the hot way. Not in that douchebag kind of way like Alan.”
A chorus of groans met the name Alan. He’d been Frankie’s boyfriend for way too long, as far as Lottie was concerned. Controlling and degrading, he’d caused Frankie to relapse more than once during their relationship, and by the end she’d been on the verge of a return trip to the rehab center. The entire friend group had all been more than happy to help her give him the boot—up to and including physically moving his shit out of Frankie’s apartment and onto the street—when she’d finally decided she’d had enough.
“I know,” Frankie said with a pained smile. “But I swear, it was nothing like that. It was more like… ordering me to do things, like sexy things, and calling me a good girl when I did what he said.”
“What if you didn’t do what he told you to?” Lottie wasn’t even sure what made her ask the question, but there was a weird pull of something she vaguely recognized as desire as she listened to Frankie’s description of her night with the older man who’d picked her up at the club Friday.
Leaning in even further, Frankie lowered her voice. “He spanked me. And not just like, a couple little love taps while he was fucking me. I mean, put me over his knee and spanked me hard until I finally agreed to do as I was told.”
“No!” Portia Williams, the newest addition to their group after her parents had moved her from California to South Carolina her junior year, gasped, her impossibly blue eyes wide with shock in her cherub-like face. Impossibly blue, because she hid her natural hazel with contacts to add to that perfect fantasy of the curvy, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, virginal girl next door. Except, she wasn’t actually a virgin any longer.
No, that honor was reserved for Lottie and Lottie alone. A fact her friends occasionally teased her about, but for the most part they didn’t make her feel like an outsider when they were sharing their most recent exploits or comparing notes about everything from dick size to whether or not it was normal to come so hard you blacked out. The latter concern had, of course, been Frankie’s. She was not only the most experienced of the group but by far the most adventurous.
“Yes,” Frankie confirmed with a nod. “And you know what?”
Unable to help herself, Lottie asked, “What?”
“I liked it. Like, I really, really liked it. I’ve always liked a little pain with my pleasure, if you know what I mean, but there was something so deliciously primal about being spanked like a naughty little girl. And I also really liked the other thing he made me do.”
Now it was Eva giving into her curiosity, even though Lottie knew for a fact she thought Frankie sometimes overexaggerated her sexual conquests. “What other thing?”
“He made me call him Daddy the whole time. And it was really fucking hot.”
On either side of Lottie, her friends squealed in equal parts disbelief, disgust, and delight. “You really did that?” Portia asked, her nose wrinkling slightly.
Lifting her champagne flute to her lips, Lottie sipped, as much for the hit of alcohol as to hopefully hide the blush rising to her cheeks. Part of her wondered if she should be horrified by Frankie’s exploits, as Portia clearly was.
The other part of her just wanted to hear more.
