Matt started rubbing my back. His fingers felt amazing. I let out a soft sigh and leaned against him. He leaned closer, his warm breath tickling my neck. I caught him looking down the front of my dress. Had I worn such a low-cut dress on purpose? Did I like the way it drew his eye? I wasn't sure, but deep down, I suspected that I'd done it to lure him in.
“You're a beautiful woman,” he whispered.
I didn't hear those kinds of words often. Not from men. Not from wealthy, dangerous men like Matt. “You're just saying that,” I said.
“I never lie about such things.” His hand slid lower, straying below my waistline. I stiffened, but I couldn't bring myself to make him stop.
His hand slid even lower as his lips brushed my neck. I held myself perfectly still, craving more of his touch, but refusing to let myself indulge. It felt so wrong. Maybe that was why I wanted it.
When his other hand slid up my leg and tried to move under my skirt, I jumped and pulled away. “No.”
“Why not?” He looked me up and down, licking his lips. “You want it. I know you want it. You know you want it. So why not?”
“Because we're related.”
“Not by blood.”
I shook my head. I couldn't let myself cross that line. I imagined what it would be like if I got pregnant by my stepbrother. The humiliation. The scandal. If I still lived a normal, carefree, middle-class life, it might be different. But ever since my mother married one of the richest men in the country, my life had become anything but normal. I wasn't even really attached to the Partridges or their media empire, but I was still hounded from time to time by paparazzi, and I wasn't sure how much privacy I had anymore. I'd been photographed by a few tabloids, which had called me a “wild child” who was allegedly “living off her stepfather's fortune.” That couldn't be further from the truth. I hadn't seen a dime of my stepfather's money, and I doubted I ever would. But the media didn't care. And they wouldn't care about my privacy or my feelings if it were discovered that I'd slept with my stepbrother.
Matt studied the look in my eyes, a wicked grin on his face. “Come on, baby,” he said, unzipping his pants. “You got me all worked up. Are you really going to leave me like this?”
He exposed himself to me and I licked my lips. It had been a long time since I'd been with a man. Most men were shallower than Matt, and didn't want to get involved with a heavier girl. Oh, I'd had a few boyfriends in the past, but it had never worked out. And I'd never been one for casual dating.
I'd also never been the kind of girl who would fool around with a man on a windy rooftop on New Year's Eve. Maybe it was the champagne in me. Maybe it was the height, the way the city spread out beneath us. Maybe it was the fireworks that started erupting in the air overhead.
I moved closer, lowering myself to my knees. “I'm not sleeping with you,” I said.
Matt slid a hand into my hair and wrapped his fingers around the back of my head. “Whatever you say, baby doll.”
He pulled my head closer and I submitted, taking him into my mouth. He was hard and he was eager, pulling me down and forcing it in until I choked. I moaned, savoring the taste of him. He was warm and I could just taste the saltiness of his sweat. It spurred me on. I wrapped my hand around him and started giving him what he wanted. What I wanted.
I looked up at him as I savored the taste of him. He had a smug, dominant grin, and he kept his hand firmly on the back of my head to keep me from pulling away. I used my tongue on his most sensitive spots, making him moan and pull my head down harder with each thrust. When I had to come up for air, I let my fingers work the magic, while I whispered naughty things to him to egg him on.
“God,” he said as he smiled down at me. “You really are a naughty little thing, aren't you?”
I grinned, but before I could reply my mouth was full again. I closed my eyes and pretended that this was okay, that there was nothing wrong with it, that I wouldn't be humiliated if anyone found out. In the moment, all I cared about was embracing my lust. My free hand strayed between my own legs, sending sparks of electricity flying throughout my body.
Matt started pulling my head up and down with more force, and I knew he was close. I wanted his seed inside of me. I was nearly willing to spread my legs and take him in the most forbidden way, but before I worked up the nerve, he reached his climax. I swallowed as much as I could, though I still ended up with an embarrassing mess all over my face.
“God, that was amazing,” Matt said as I wiped my face on his pant legs. “Hey, those are Italian!”
“You're complaining?” I smirked at him.
He snorted and shook his head. “Hell no. That was the best time I've ever had with a girl.”
I got up and straightened my clothes and hair. I didn't want to go back down to the party looking like I'd just been down on my knees. Setting aside how embarrassing that would be, it would raise questions that I would never be able to answer. I supposed that I could maybe make up a story about meeting a guy at the party, but there was too much chance that someone, anyone, might have seen me and Matt leaving the party together. That could lead to scandal.
Matt zipped his pants. “You're amazing, babe,” he whispered. He leaned in to kiss me.
I pulled away and turned my face from him. “Don't.”
“What?” He laughed and shook his head. “Don't go telling me that you're getting all shy now. Not after what you just did.”
“I gave you what you wanted,” I said, refusing to look at him. “It...it's not going to happen again.”
My chest felt tight. I'd wanted this to happen. Deep down, I knew I had. But I was ashamed of myself. For wanting him. For giving in to temptation. For letting my defenses down. But most of all, I was ashamed that I still wanted more.
“Anne...”
“Don't.” I stepped away from him, heading for the stairs. “Please, just don't.”
He followed, but kept his distance. We headed back down to the party, entering through separate doors. I avoided him for the rest of the night.
When it was almost time to leave, my mother found me. “Anne! There you are. Where have you been? And why is your dress all dirty?”
I looked down at my skirt and saw black stains from where I'd knelt on the rooftop. “I...I fell. But I'm fine.”
“Dear, what's wrong?” She cupped my face with her hand, as if checking for a fever. “You're all red. Is everything okay?”
I caught Matt's eyes from across the room. “Yeah, Mom. Everything's fine.”
I tried to avoid Matt for a while after that. I skipped a few of the gatherings I was invited to over the next few months. When I couldn't get out of attending an event, I stayed away from him, hoping he would leave me alone. Though at the same time, I missed him. He brought out a wild side of me that I hadn't even known I'd had. I craved the feel of his skin against mine, the rush of his motorcycle between my legs, the scent of his manly sweat. But like an addict trying to stay on the wagon, I did my best to avoid him.
And I did just fine until my stepfather got sick.
I rushed into the hospital late one night, clutching my jacket around myself. It was a frigid evening, and pockets of snow from earlier in the winter still covered parts of the ground. The heat of the emergency room blasted me in the face as soon as I left the cold night behind. I looked around the room, searching for my mother. She was sitting in the waiting room, clutching her hands in front of her and crying. Matt sat next to her, rubbing her back and speaking softly to her.
“What happened?” I asked as I approached them. My mother had frantically called me a short time before, telling me that my stepfather had suffered an attack, but she hadn't offered any details. She had been too upset to talk.
Matt got up and pulled me aside, giving my mother some space. “Dad had a stroke,” he said. “The doctors are with him now. But it doesn't look good.”
“Oh, Matt. I'm so sorry.” I put my arms around him and held him close. He leaned his head against my shoulder. I could feel the tension in his muscles. I could only imagine what he was going through. I didn't know what it was like to lose a parent. My own dad had walked out on us, but he was still alive, even if we barely spoke anymore.
“I'm fine,” Matt said. He clung to me as if I were the only thing keeping him from breaking down. “I've been ready for this for a while. Dad's not a young man. But it was...so sudden.”
My mind raced, trying to think about what I should do. I really didn't know Mr. Partridge very well. We'd chatted here and there, but he'd never made any real effort to get to know me. I didn't even think he'd made the effort to get to know my mother, outside of the bedroom at least. It made it hard for me to mourn for him. I felt bad, but losing him wouldn't touch me deep inside the way it would if I'd lost my own father.
But Matt was being hit hard. And I needed to comfort him.
One of the doctors came out to talk to us. She said that Mr. Partridge was conscious, and that it would be okay for my mother to go in and talk to him. But they didn't want to disturb him by having a crowd inside the room, so Matt and I would have to wait out here.
“I won't be long,” Mom said, squeezing my hands. I watched her follow the doctor back to my stepfather's room. Matt stood by my side, his back stiff and his face pale. I took his hand and squeezed it. He clung to my hand, and I could tell he was barely keeping himself from shaking.