For Love or Money Page 4

  He ignores us as his vision trails over to Nance who’s gathering the electronic devices. We don’t allow cameras or phones at our parties. When Henry gets here he’ll make them all sign the nondisclosure forms. He’s a mood wrecker.

  Leo holds a drink out for me.

  I saunter over, dancing to my song—I Love It. Leo’s friend holds his hand out. “I’m Jake.”

  I scowl, taking it and shaking. “That’s not a very good gay name. You need a different one. Todd, Lance, or I just broke up with a Chad—it’s sort of gay. Jake is too brutish.”

  He smiles, flashing perfect white teeth. “Maybe I’m secretly a brute.”

  I wink at Leo. “Good luck later.” God, to be a fly on that wall.

  Leo backs away slowly with his hands up like I have a gun or am going to force him to look up my skirt. “I can’t even—you are too much.”

  “I know.” I turn to see the door opening again, letting in a bunch more people. A girl, Samantha, who I don’t particularly enjoy, walks up to me grinning like she has the scoop on something wicked. She leans in. “So how was the spa, Lana?”

  I tilt my head to the side. “I am enjoying my high, Sam. Fuck off.”

  “I heard what happened. I just had to laugh. I mean every girl in Harvard is terrified of that rapist, and when he sneaks in your room he goes for the safest spot on you. At least you must feel better knowing he won’t touch you.”

  My jaw drops and my fist balls but Nance is there, steering her away from me. “Why do you have to provoke her?” Nance looks back apologetically.

  I can’t even . . . What a whore.

  My high flails and ends up skidding to a brutal halt.

  I turn and walk out onto the cold deck.

  My night might not be nearly as fun as I had hoped it would be.

  Chapter Four

  All you need is love

  James

  I slip from the limo, grateful the crinkled piece of paper got me here. When I saw the freshmen getting the cards, I knew we were in for some trouble. Lana means business when it comes to parties. Nick and Weaver both eye me up. Weaver gives me a nudge. “She invited your ass to this? You never party.”

  I nod. “We have the last game against Yale next week. Y’all need to keep it in your pants tonight. Don’t let her give you any drugs. Coach will flip out.”

  Nick rolls his eyes. “Stay in the limo, Nancy. That guy that brought us here looked pretty tame—maybe y’all could play chess.” He mocks my accent.

  I grit my teeth, counting backward so I don’t break one of HIS teeth off on my fist. The punk-ass rich kids on our team always forget some of us need to win. Some of us don’t have dads who have already secured our futures.

  We walk up to an apartment building on the West End of Boston that looks like it’s been completely overhauled. This is happening more and more in the cities.

  A doorman opens the door for us. For them it seems completely normal, but for me it’s insane a man is paid to open a door for people. My phone vibrates in my pocket, making me cringe inwardly. Shit! I forgot about my date tonight. When Jackson saw me get the invite from Lana, he asked me to come to this with these morons to make certain there are no incidents. I’ll have to see if I can hit my date up later or tomorrow.

  I can’t wait until I don’t have to date anymore. I’m so tired of women, it’s ridiculous. No twenty-one-year-old should feel as old as I do.

  The elevator smells new. It’s shiny and modern in a way that mocks the old building, sort of like the old-money trust-fund brats I’m always surrounded by. When we arrive at the penthouse, I realize I am in over my head.

  The party is filled with modern couples and modern music, and even a couple girls making out while dancing on top of coffee tables. A guy snorts a line from a mound in the dining room. He rubs his nose and nods at us.

  It’s like Scarface—the spring-break edition.

  Faces turn, all but the one who invited us.

  Where the hell is she?

  I want nothing like I do to chew her ass for this. I am done with this bullshit act of hers.

  I don’t know a single person here. I can tell by the straight backs of the guys I’m with, they don’t either.

  Son of a bitch.

  I could lose my bursaries for next year just by being here.

  Even worse, I could get kicked out of school for being here.

  But most likely I’ll just hate myself later for even coming.

  Hovering in the door, I contemplate leaving them here with whatever poor choices they intend on making, but the girl who invited us catches my eye. I see her back through the French doors in the living room and fury starts to build in me.

  I push past the guys, walking by everything and everyone, heading for the deck where she is looking out at the city as the sun sets and leaves us for another night.

  When I open the door she doesn’t even turn. She doesn’t register me there at all, even when I close the door roughly.

  “If you’re here to scold me and lecture, I’m not in the mood. Just go. I’ll text when I want a ride.”

  I scowl. “What? I’m not giving you a ride. Jeeze. You’re rich enough to pay for your own cab. Shoot, you probably have a limo downstairs waiting on your every beck and call.”

  She turns, smiling from ear to ear. “Shoot and jeeze in one sentence? Did you have to work at that or does hillbilly naturally roll off your tongue?”

  My face flushes. “Do you have to work at being a bitch or does it just naturally roll off your tongue?”

  “I used to work at it, but I think I have it now.”

  She’s infuriating. I can feel my blood coming quite close to boiling just being near her. She thinks she’s so smart. She doesn't know that I’m not fooled by the act. I give her my best smug grin and challenge, “Your dad is one of the most successful music moguls in the world. He’s a classy man. I saw him once in Nashville, and I was impressed by the generosity and drive that he has in him. It’s a sin you didn’t inherit one single trait from him.”

  She gives me a cold dead stare and holds up her dark-blonde locks. “Hair color—it’s his.”

  I fold my arms across my chest and stare down at her as unimpressed as I can. “Just stay away from the soccer guys from now on. Not all of us have daddies with amazing careers all lined up for us, even if we are just barely passing college.”

  Her eyes water. “You know what?”

  “What!”

  “Fuck you!”

  I point through the window at a guy. “Not even with that guy’s dick.” I might feel bad, but it doesn’t stop me from shooting my mouth off—she makes me so mad. She has, all three years I’ve been here, from a distance. Her recklessness is legendary, and I know she used to be more than a coke slut shell of a human being.

  Her lip trembles and she slumps to her knees. I can see her small shoulders are shaking with sobs. I don’t even know what to do, I didn't expect this reaction at all.

  “Lana, don’t cry!” I drop to my knees too. I don’t want to touch her, mostly because of the whole coked-out slut thing. But regardless, she is losing it, and for an unknown reason I feel like the biggest asshole ever—even if she did have it coming.

  She shivers, and when she wipes her face I see her thin arms are covered in goose bumps. I pull my coat off and wrap it around her. “I didn’t mean it.” As God is my witness, I meant it, and yet I hate myself for saying it. But in the state she’s in, I wouldn't touch her with a sword, let alone my dick—triple wrapped.

  “You know even that rapist didn’t want to rape me. Even he didn’t want me.”

  I didn’t take it too seriously when the guys mentioned about her getting attacked, but now I see someone has messed with her.

  “At least he never hurt you. That’s not a bad thing, Lana.” I try to sound soothing, but I don’t have a single word I can think to say to take away from the statement she has left out there. My mom would burn me in hell before she would allow me to speak
to a victim like that, so I take the road I rarely take and shut my mouth.

  She cries into my coat, wiping her eyes with my sleeves. It makes me cringe seeing all that makeup on my coat, and when she lifts her face to see mine, she cries harder. She shoves past me, bursting inside.

  I don’t move—just sit, staring out as the lights of the city start to glow brighter than the sunset, and contemplate the fact I might be a giant asshole. Clearly I have picked the wrong moment to try to call her out on her bullshit.

  I should run after her, but she’s probably still high. God knows what kind of shit she could get herself and me into, and I don’t have high-priced lawyers to clean up after me.

  My phone vibrates, reminding me I have better odds with Marlene than I do here. Here, I’m going to punch some townie in the face and throw him off the deck. I get up to leave the party, only stopping to warn the freshmen. “You two will be off the team if shit happens that shouldn’t.”

  Weaver gives me an ‘eat shit and die’ stare and Nick nods, but I can tell he wants to say something.

  “Y’all got a problem with that?”

  Neither says a word. They know better.

  I leave and head for Back Bay where the Saint Clare family has a brownstone. It’s the size of an entire apartment building with a personal elevator, and even has servants’ quarters—‘cause that’s not creepy. At least they get paid nowadays. I’m sure when the building was built, slavery was a regular thing.

  The taxi drops me off and my insides start to tighten. It’s been ten months and I haven’t gotten used to the idea.

  Marlene opens her own front door when she sees me. I can tell she’s already half cut. I doubt either of us is real comfortable with the arrangement, regardless of how often it happens.

  She holds her martini up and leans against the door, shimmering in the dark in her white silk nightgown. “Didn’t think you’d make it.”

  I shake my head. “Me either. I had some babysitting to do.”

  She grins from ear to ear. “Well, let’s hurry before Andrew finds his way home.” Sometimes he sleeps here on the weekends or when he needs a break from school.

  When I get to the top stair she steps back, making room for me to enter. I suck it up and lift a hand to cup her breast, dragging my thumb over her nipple. The silhouette of it stands out amongst the sea of pale silk. She’s erect with excitement mixing in with the cold night air.

  “I missed you, cowboy.”

  I wink at her, laying it on thick. “What say we go upstairs and you can show me how much?” I lift her up into my arms, giving her the full fantasy. She sucks back the rest of the drink and tosses the glass out onto the street. “I have a few things I want to show you.”

  Rich people are so strange.

  Chapter Five

  Momma’s naughty boy

  Lana

  Andy’s hands on my back, guiding me up the stairs, push a little too hard, making me stumble into the games room of the Saint Clare mansion. As much as he annoys me, I’m glad I left Nance’s party to come here. That jackass, James Holland, made me so mad.

  I turn, returning the glare Andy’s giving me. “You sure you want to do this?”

  He nods, pulling at his belt and dropping it to the floor. “I have missed doing this.”

  I shake my head. “You have to swear not to tell Chad.”

  “Tell him what? What a heartless bitch you are? He knows. He has a concussion and you’re here.”

  My gaze narrows even more. “You’re going to be sorry for that comment.”

  The light reflects off his eyes. “I’m counting on that.”

  “Turn around and count to a hundred.”

  He drops his pants and turns in his underwear and dress shirt. I never planned on running into Andy at Nance’s place, but he crashed the party just as I was leaving. He had something to lift my spirits and I have something he always wants—a poor attitude when it comes to monogamy and vanilla sex.

  I haven’t seen him in a while, regardless of him being one of my favorite college boys. He spent winter abroad and I went home to California. When I got back, Chad and I started things up and Andy took it as a serious affair. Actually, it was mostly Chad who took it seriously. He acted like he’d peed on my leg.

  As a result, I’ve had a couple months of mediocrity in the sex department, and instead, spent my time daydreaming about the culmination of the bad things I have let Andy do to me.

  God I have missed this—the excitement building in my stomach as I creep around the house.

  Chad.

  What a wanker.

  I could roll my eyes but the poor guy IS in the hospital. It might be wrong to let my feelings of disdain get too big before he’s released.

  I slip through the dark mansion, taking the backstairs up to the bedrooms. Andy has a twisted version of hide and seek that most girls don’t like to play.

  I am not most girls.

  I tiptoe along, taking off my underwear and leaving him a breadcrumb. It’s almost as fun as it once was, but the drugs in my system are starting to wane and the memory of the creepy foot pervert is creeping around in my head.

  I refuse to let it rule me. I refuse to let it ruin my sex life forever. I pride myself on sexual prowess and flexibility.

  The simpering victim in my mind is not me, and I can’t let her win or I may be stuck with vanilla sex for the rest of my life.

  The idea of it gives me a shiver.

  Nothing quite like ordinary missionary sex to ruin a night.

  When I saw Andy I wasn't even in the mood for sex. It was so weird. I convinced myself that his taste for boudoir noir would be the perfect cure to my anxiety.

  Now that I’m in the dark, I’m not sure.

  I pass by Andy’s sister’s room. It smells like vanilla and has a French theme to it. It reminds me of my room when I was a young teenager. All the way back before I broke my poor father’s heart by not being the perfect daughter. Since then I’ve been on a bit of a mission. I decided that if I was going to be the worst daughter, I would be a pro at it.

  I leave my shirt on the floor outside of the bathroom upstairs and duck into a nook next to Andy’s room. If I listen I should be able to hear him coming.

  If I catch him from behind, his ass is mine. He will spend the next two hours screaming my name. That's the good thing about Andy—he’s always up for a little pain to heighten the pleasure.

  However, if he catches me, he gets to be in charge.

  Either way I come, so what does it matter?

  In the dark silence where I’m hiding, I hear something I’m not entirely expecting—a woman moaning. Her sounds make a cheesy grin spread across my face. It is the noise of a woman being serviced well—very well. She is bleating like a sheep, and I can’t help but giggle when I realize it’s coming from inside of the house.

  It’s Andy’s mom.

  I wrinkle my nose and head toward the main hall.

  A shadow passes going the other way.

  In the light coming in the living room window, I see Andy going in the direction I just was.

  Thinking fast, I run, making noise and hopefully drawing him back downstairs. He isn’t going to want to do it when he hears his parents.

  His heavy footsteps turn and follow me away from the hallway that would have ruined our night.

  I squeal with delight and hurry down the stairs.

  He’s leaping stairs like he means to catch me so I jump the last couple, nearly breaking an ankle in my heels and turn to the right.

  I blow past the kitchen and dining room, spinning into the study and hold a lungful of air. He runs past me but stops.

  My lungs fight to exhale, forcing me to release, huffing my breath just as his hand reaches into the dark room, grabbing me roughly.

  I shriek as he spins me, pressing himself against the back of me and gripping my throat lightly. He closes the office door and walks us both to the desk, hitting my hips on it roughly and bending me forward. He
kicks my legs apart and lifts my skirt, running his hands up and down my bare ass cheeks. He slaps once making me moan.

  “I missed you, Lana. I missed how naughty you like things.” He slaps again and I close my eyes, pressing my face into the mahogany desk. He spanks close to my crack and earns himself a full rotation of my ass. He reaches under, running his hands along my crack to my pussy’s entrance. His finger casually tickles my whole slit, like he’s deciding where to go first or checking for moisture levels.

  The head of his cock springs from his underwear, slapping against my ass cheeks. His hips pin me as the condom wrapper crinkles into the dark. Roughly, he rubs his wrapped cock between my legs and slides a hand around front to rub my clit as he shoves himself inside of me.

  We moan simultaneously.

  He rubs to match his slow rhythmic thrusts, circling his hips and fingers. My hands grip to the desk as my first orgasm starts to build. I move my pelvis to get the most of him without giving away the fact I’m about to come. Sometimes he likes to play mean and withhold.

  The pleasure of him mixes in my body with the pain of being shoved against the desk. It’s a blinding sort of joy and loss of control.

  Goddamn, I love fucking him.

  A subtle moan escapes my lips as I start to climax. When he feels me orgasming on his cock, he shoves himself harder inside as I try to push him out with my clenching. He rubs slower, pressing harder on my clit, making me cry out in ecstasy.

  His hand leaves my pussy, finding its way into my hair at the base of my head. His balls start slapping as he bucks, fucking me hard and pulling my head back.

  Endurance is his only shortcoming, but with all the build up of the chase I can’t blame him. He comes hard, like always, gripping to me and yanking my hair. When he’s done he collapses on top of me, kissing my back gently and whispering. “Sometimes I think we should just get married and have this for the rest of our lives.”

  I laugh against the desk—his father’s. “No. You know how I feel about marriage.”

  He nods and kisses. “My mom is fucking some dude she pays for sex, upstairs right now. I know how you feel about marriage—I feel the same way.”