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I
THE SECRETS
1
MARIUS
Something bothers me about seeing her stand stupidly at the edge of the party, watching the rest of us like a lifeguard. Or a queen surveying the peasants from her pedestal.
Though no queen would be caught dead in that getup. Sarah wears a grayish, beige-ish, taupe-ish—whatever boring-ass awful color middle-aged conservative women choose for their sofas—tent of a dress.
It wouldn't be half bad if she'd styled it with a belt or whatever, but she didn’t. It hangs on her limbs uselessly. Or rather,purposely. Her highness hides her curves like they're a state secret. At least, she attempts to, but I've caught glimpses now and then, when she’s shifted, bent, or walked.
"Hey, you," some chick whose name I can't recall purrs as she approaches my lounger, batting her long lashes at me.
She sits next to my knees, bumping her ass up against me like she has every right to enter my personal space. My gaze drifts down to her tits, squeezed into a glittering monokini.
I guess I don’t mind.
I know those tits, firm and golden, with a trail of butterflies tattooed in the middle. I'm fairly certain I fucked her, which explains the liberty she takes with me, although we’re basically strangers.
The fact that my cock doesn't react to the blatant flirting tells me all need to know: she wasn't all that impressive.
Not that anyone ever is.
On a random day, I'd let her get her hands back on my cock like she’s clearly dying to, but today's a club party.
Notyet,otherwiseButterfly Tits wouldn't be here. Nor would her highness. Neither of them belongs to the Heritage. But in a few hours, we're supposed to head out to the Heritage forafternoon tea. Rather, that's what the invitation said. What we'll be doing will involve very little tea, although there should be plenty of cream.
"Hey back," I tell her with a smile, because I'm not inherently a dick.
I don't get off on making others feel small, unlike my brothers. And my friends. And most people I hang out with. I'm theniceGoltz, after all.
A smile curves up my lip at the thought.Being the “lesser” in a trio of psychos has served me well. I’m seen as more approachable, which means anyone wanting to deal with either of my brothers comes through me. And I take the lion’s share of whatever deal they want to strike.
"Don't you love Rhys's parties?" Butterfly Tits coos, with a satisfied sigh.
I do, but this is not one of them. Rhys sets up club ravers, where the clothing tends to be optional, and butt plugs are recommended. She would never have scored an invite to one of those.
This polite pool party has Violet written all over it.
Still, it's nice enough; there's tits, drinks, plenty of food, and as a bonus, I get to stare at her highness.It’ll do as a prelude to the main event later on the Heritage grounds.
"Sure,”I say noncommittally, while my eyes return to their former observations.
I don't knowwhatit is about Sarah Andrews that draws me in so much. We’ve never exchanged more than a casual greeting so I’m not going to pretend I’m attracted to her personality. And as for her looks, well, it's not like any of her features are striking. She's a brunette with brown eyes, like about sixty percent of the population. Everyone knows I have a thing for redheads. She's pretty enough—although she does her best to conceal that—but so is just about every other girl out here, and the rest of them are ready to party.
Maybe that's her appeal. I'm easy on the eyes, and my father's the richest man in town: I have a steady stream of pussy on offer anytime, anywhere.Despite being straight—unless my gaydar’s malfunctioning—she's not interested, so that makes her more of a challengein the sea of quasi-nude Cali girls happy to spread their legs for me on demand.
But if it were the case, I'd make some attempt to get into her pants, wouldn’t I?
I don't. I just look at her whenever she's around. I don't do it on purpose, but my eyes seek her out, steadily following her movements like a predator.
I don't get it.
"Who's the chick?" Butterfly Tits asks, a little frown between her eyebrows as she trails my gaze.
"No one," I say, honestly. "Why, sugar? You'd prefer it if I gave you all my attention?"
