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For now, I’ll pretend to play by his rules.
Chapter 14
Madden
—PAST—
“Bianca!” I growl out her name in a low voice.
She comes to a dead halt in the middle of the lawn, slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream as her head whips in my direction. Amusement plays across my lips as I gesture for her.
“What are you doing?” She shoves my chest when she reaches me. “You nearly scared me to death.”
“Come on,” I tell her. “I want to do something different tonight.”
“No guitar lessons?” She pouts.
“Later.”
She follows me to the pool area, which is only about a hundred yards from the main building. When we stop at the deck chairs, I kick off my shoes and whip off my shirt. Bianca sucks in a sharp breath and stares, but I pretend not to notice.
“What are you doing?” she squeaks as I unbutton my jeans and dispense with them, too, leaving nothing but my briefs on.
“Going for a swim.” I stroll over to the edge of the pool. “Are you getting in, or what?”
“You’re crazy,” she hisses. “Someone could wake up. Someone could see us—”
“You better be quiet then,” I tease.
She stands there uncertainly while I lower myself into the pool and relax in the water. From this angle, I can see her biting her lip, trying to convince herself this is a bad idea.
“Madden, I don’t know about this.”
“You said you want to be free,” I remind her. “This is your time, peaches. Break up with the good girl and do what you want. Get it all out of your system while you have a chance. Who knows, you might even have fun. You might decide you never want to follow the rules again.”
“You’re such a bad influence,” she groans.
“Yet here you are, sneaking out with me every night.”
“I don’t have a suit,” she points out.
I shrug. “Neither do I.”
A long moment passes, and I wonder if she’ll do it. If she’ll skate this close to danger, knowing how easily we could get caught. I want her to break the rules with me. I want to crack her open, release her from her prison cell, and see the girl hiding beneath the mask.
“Fine,” she grumbles. “Look away, please?”
I smirk as I turn around and wait.
It’s quiet for a couple of minutes, and I’m questioning if she left when the water ripples behind me. I don’t move. I wait for her to say something, but she never does. Instead, she swims up behind me and settles her palms over my shoulders.
“This was a good idea,” she whispers, completely unaware of the effect she’s having on my dick right now.
“Yeah?” I murmur.
“Yeah.” She hoists herself up without warning and dunks me beneath the water, quietly shaking with laughter when I pop back up looking like a drowned rat.
“You are so dead,” I growl, reaching out and snagging her around the waist. That’s about the time I realize she’s wearing nothing more than a white cotton bra and panties, and I can see everything. She catches me staring at her nipples poking through the fabric and then glances down between us.
“Fuck,” I bite out.
My cock is at full attention, and now it’s sandwiched against her.
“Is that painful?” she asks, uncertainty coloring her voice as I release her.
I can’t help the chuckle that leaves my lips, and I could almost swear she’s blushing in the soft blue light. “No, peaches. It isn’t painful.”
“I’ve never…” She clears her throat. “I haven’t done that yet. I haven’t done anything like this, actually.”
“You’re a virgin?” The words nearly get caught in my throat.
She nods slowly. “I’m waiting for the right time.”
“Good call.” I think about the guy who will get to have her, and I want to chop his nuts off.
“And you’re not,” she observes, clearly recalling the first time I told her I like to fuck and move on.
“I’m not,” I answer honestly.
“I see the way the girls here look at you,” she says. “I imagine they aren’t hard to come by.”
She sounds disgruntled about it, and it amuses me far more than it should. Yeah, there are girls who throw themselves at me, but none I’ve ever wanted to spend time with. Mostly, they want to take a ride on my dick like it’s some sort of accomplishment. I’m not boyfriend material, and they know it. So I use them, and they use me, and nobody cries about it when we go our separate ways.
“Friends can talk about this, right?” Bianca asks.
A dark cloud settles over us when I realize she’s thinking about her rich prick boyfriend back home. She feels guilty even though she knows he’s probably banging anything that moves right about now. The asshole in me wants to tell her to stop thinking about him altogether. But that’s only because he has a lot more practice than the decent guy I’m trying to be for her right now.
