Page 14

Fuckers.

It was a bit rude in hindsight, but I moved away from Amber without a word to join Cameron on the dance floor, blocking her from the view of the creeps leering at her. “Having fun?” I asked loudly in her ear.

She startled, having been completely oblivious to everything but the music.

Then she beamed at me, and I swear to Christ the way she looked at me was like the sun rising … necessary to my existence. “I’m supposed to ask you that!”

Before I could respond, there was a loud rattle of bangs on my front door.

I grinned. “Took them long enough.”

Cameron pouted because we both knew the party was about to come to an end.

Sure enough, when I opened the door, a beleaguered-looking PC Paul Young stood there. “Forde, come on, mate. It’s one o’clock in the morning. Party’s over.”

“Aye, aye.” I nodded congenially as the fresh air from outside cut through my semi-drunken state. Turning back to the partygoers, I shouted, “Turn off the music!”

Cameron turned it down instead.

I chuckled at her tiny act of rebellion and raised my voice. “Thanks for coming, everyone, but the party is over.”

There were groans and curse words and Paul Young took them with a pinch of salt as he waited by my door for everyone to filter out.

“I’ll stay to clean up,” Cameron offered, swaying a little on her feet.

PC Paul gave me a pointed look. “Make sure she gets home in one piece.”

I was offended that he’d think otherwise and shut the door in his face.

“Well … fuck.” I scrubbed a hand over my head, looking at the state of the place. Cameron had pushed the couch to the back wall to make room for a dance floor, and everywhere was littered with empty beer bottles and cups and crumbs from the snacks she’d put out. The birthday banner that had hung across my window had fallen so it ribboned down one wall.

“Let me get some black bags.”

“You don’t need to …”

She grinned at me over her shoulder before disappearing into my small kitchen. “It’s my fault it’s like this!”

Half an hour later, the place looked better, and I collapsed onto my sofa, sipping out of the last of the beer bottles. “Thanks.”

Cameron nodded as she leaned over and turned my stereo up just a bit. It was another Letters to Cleo song. “I Want You to Want Me” or something like that. I recognized the coy smile she gave me as she turned back around, smoothing her hands down her tiny wee dress. My blood heated as her hips swayed as she prowled slowly across the room. “Did you have a good time?” she asked throatily.

Fuck. My jeans tightened at the crotch, and I swallowed hard, trying to look unaffected by the sight of her eyeing me like she wanted to eat me up. I cleared my throat. “Aye.”

“Just aye?” she teased, stopping so her legs touched my sprawled knees. She nudged my left knee, her fingers teasing the hem of her dress and drawing my eyes to her pale toned thighs.

It had been like this between us for months. This awareness. Sexual awareness. When she turned eighteen, I’d given myself a talking-to multiple times about how her turning eighteen did not give me permission to do something about it.

But she’d been pushing it lately. And tonight I couldn’t make myself protest. Somewhere in the back of my head, there was a voice roaring at me this was a bad idea, but it was muffled by the haze of alcohol and the lust that seized control of my entire fucking being.

“It was good. Thanks.” I took another sip of beer, pretending I was unfazed. Cameron reached out to take the bottle, then very deliberately sipped from it, holding my gaze with confident flirtation. She braced a knee on the couch on either side of my hips and leaned past me to place the beer bottle on the sideboard behind the sofa. The move meant my face ended up buried in her luscious tits.

My dick hardened instantly.

“Cameron.” I grabbed onto her waist with the intention of gently easing her off but then she settled back, straddling me, her dress rising to indecent levels. Her lips parted on a slight gasp as she felt how hard I was beneath her. Then she undulated her pussy over me and instead of pushing her away like I should, I gripped her waist harder. “Fuck, Cameron. We … we shouldn’t.” Her pretty cheeks were flushed, and the strap of her dress fell off one shoulder, revealing the swell of her full tits. It was the look in her blue eyes that undid me. She looked at me like I was … everything.

Her. Cameron McQuarrie. A girl so alive, it was like trying to hold fire in my hands.

“I think we should,” Cameron disagreed, rocking over me again slowly, torturously, as she trailed her fingers over her thighs to draw her dress up even farther. I could see her lacy knickers, her tight wee pussy rolling over my jeans-covered dick.