"I think I’m going to throw up," Mason groans for the fourth time this morning. I slow the car, eyeing him carefully. "I don't know how Jace is at work right now. He left at 6 a.m. for some important meeting, looking fresh as a daisy—and he drank more than me," Mason mumbles, leaning his head against the window to cool down. I press the gas again. We are ridiculously late. I heard Jace at 6 this morning too. Heard him in the shower. That’s when I finally turned on my phone and saw about 12 missed calls and a bunch of angry texts from him. The last one came just after I crawled into bed, and the bastard had continued the kink conversation like nothing has happened. -Mr. Grumpy: I have a new one for our list. -Mr. Grumpy: Put food kink on there. "You just can’t handle your alcohol, brother," I tell Mason, trying not to think about Jace’s texts. "Me? You should’ve seen the guys last night. Ramon tried to go up to your room, and Jace tackled him to the floor, put him in a chokehold
"Hey, Nora," someone suddenly says beside me. I turn and find Mitch standing close. "Can I sit here?" he asks, gesturing to Hannah's empty chair next to me. "Uh... sure," I reply, forcing a nervous smile. Mitch settles in, shifting his chair closer to mine. "Did you get my rose?" His eyes drift down my body. "I did, yeah. Thanks." I think about the rose I tossed in the parking lot days earlier. Mitch smiles, his eyes warm. "Do you need any help with Math? I can help you. I'm pretty good at it," he offers. Normally, I would just say no to a guy. He doesn’t attract attention like Connor or Jace, but he’s decent-looking. He’s quiet and mostly keeps to himself. Still, his weekly letters give me the creeps—sometimes they include details like what I had for lunch or what outfit I wore the previous week. There's something creepy about it. "Norali!" I jolt and snap my head forward, meeting Jace's eyes. I notice from the corner of my eyes that Mitch’s hand moves from his table onto mine
It feels like only seconds have passed before all that’s left is the tiny stick in my mouth. In reality, Charlotte’s already explained two pages of homework. Jace knows that I’m not sucking on anything and clears his throat. A signal for me. He’s still seated behind his laptop right in front of me, and I notice his typing has stopped. The funny thing is, I do have another lollipop in my bag. I could lie and say I don’t... but where’s the fun in that? Fun—by which I mean the overwhelming nerves that almost make me gag. Still, I lean down and dig around in my bag, my hand wrapping around another lollipop. I look at it. Cherry flavor. My favorite. Do cherry-flavored condoms exist—NO. Think of other things. Slowly, I remove the wrapper from the lollipop and feel my body getting warmer and warmer. The stick feels pathetic in my mouth, and when I put it in the wrapper and dump it in my bag, I stare at the purple lollipop a second too long. Still no typing from the laptop in front of me
"Happy now?" I ask, still facing the door. "Not yet. Where did you go on Tuesday when you skipped class? What happened?" Jace asks, his tone laced with curiosity. Rolling my eyes, I turn around and cross my arms. "You know, Jace," I say sarcastically, "maybe you should mind your own business." He steps closer. "I don't take well to disrespect," he says, his voice carrying a dangerous warning. "It sounds like you just need to get laid. Maybe find someone willing. Hopefully she can cuddle your rudeness away afterward," I snap back. Jace’s eyes narrow as he moves even closer. "Is that what you want? You want me to fuck someone else tonight? Because that's exactly what I'm going to do," Jace snaps, stalking closer to me. He’s such a hateful son of a bitch. But the worst part is, he has every right to be with someone else. And so do I. "I don’t care. Fuck whoever you want," I grit out. My words only seem to fuel his anger. He takes his last step towards me. "Oh, I think you do care
I try to walk calmly, pushing aside the panic rising inside me. I need to find the one person I trust more than anyone. Not that I could trust him with this. I open the door to the teacher's lounge and see Mason sitting at a desk, engrossed in his laptop. "Mason," I call softly. He looks up, frowning. "Hey, baby sis. Everything okay?" I hear some students behind me and quickly step into the room, closing the door. "Yup. Can we go home?" I ask as I walk further in and notice the stack of papers in front of him. "I could actually use your help. I need to grade these papers. Please?" Mason gives me a pleading look. Grading papers is the last thing I want to do, but his puppy-dog eyes are hard to resist. "What's in it for me?" I ask, tilting my head. "What more could I possibly give you that you haven't already stolen?" Mason teases, giving me a sideways glance. I walk over to him, eyeing the stack of papers. "If I help, you're cooking dinner tonight," I bargain. "Yes, deal. Sold.
-Mr. Grumpy: Standards? You mean Connor? Funny. -Mr. Grumpy: I will have you turned on within 2 minutes when I have you alone next time. You'll be begging for more. My stomach clenches at his words. Why does he say things like that? It’s so unfair.-Norali: Are you having fantasies now? -Mr. Grumpy: About you? -Mr. Grumpy: I’ll tell you if you tell me what happened on Tuesday.I knew he had heard Mason. Nosy man.“Hey, remember we’re visiting Mom tomorrow, right?” Mason asks, pulling me out of my thoughts. I carefully set my phone down on the table. “Yeah,” I whisper, feeling a serious weight settle in.“Come on, you’ve got plenty to tell her,” Mason nudges me, trying to lighten the mood.I smile softly, though the sadness behind it is undeniable. “I’m going to tell her how annoying you’ve been,” I joke back, but we both know there’s more beneath it. Mason’s smile mirrors my own—sad and understanding.“She’d probably tell you off for that,” he says. “Everyone knows the youngest is
"I just love this place. It’s so chic," Charlene gushes, sitting across from me. I glance around. Chic, sure. It’s one of those overpriced spots where rich people waste money on mediocre food that barely gets touched because they're too busy doing lines of coke every half hour. They do have top-notch whiskey, though—that’s the only reason I’m here."Hmm," I mutter in response, watching Charlene down the rest of her wine. She won’t touch whiskey. Says it’s "a man’s drink," not for 'classy' women. Classy women drink only champagne or the most expensive wine—and, of course, no shots.Such a load of fucking bullocks.I grab my phone for the hundredth time tonight and open the chat with Norali.-Jace: Are you okay, though? Still no response. And the little monster had the nerve to call me 'Mr. Grumpy'.She wouldn’t be with someone else, right? She wouldn’t dare. I told her not to, and she’ll listen. She has to."Darling?" Charlene’s voice snaps me back to the present. I cringe internally.
"We're going to my house," I tell Charlene as I unlock my Porsche. "Your house? But we never go to yours!" she responds, her voice bubbling with excitement. "Just get in," I snap, cutting off any further conversation. She climbs in beside me, and my eyes automatically drift to the passenger seat mirror, looking at the backseat. That’s where Norali sat last time. I hit the gas hard, making the car lurch forward with aggression. I don't release the pedal. "So, what's the occasion for going to your place? Something to celebrate?" she asks, her voice dropping seductively. She pulls her shirt a little bit lower, showing off more cleavage. The occasion? Maybe just the thought that someone might actually walk in. "When we get there, take off your clothes and wait on the couch," I order. She doesn’t say a word, just nods obediently. That’s Charlene—she never talks back. I feel her hand slide onto my thigh. "What about a little preview?" she whispers. I press the gas harder. How would h
Miraculously, Mason slows down immediately. The three of us let out deep sighs of relief. Adrenaline still courses through me, making my heart race. “Go left here,” Jace directs Mason, who obeys. I can feel the slight shift in the car as Mason finds a perfectly straight road. Mason's happiness at the straight road is palpable. The gas is pressed again, but this time, it’s smoother. He raises the volume of the music and starts bopping along to the beat, headbanging slightly. As the car settles into a steady pace, my body relaxes, and Jace seems to notice. But I get the sense that he’s aware of the lingering adrenaline. His grip on me loosens, but instead of letting go, his hand lands on the side of my bare leg, caging it between his leg and mine. It’s hidden from Mason’s view, but his touch is fully on my skin. My white dress has ridden up, barely covering my hips. “I didn’t think you’d want to slow down,” I say, trying to make conversation with the man behind me. “It scared you. O
I walk to the car like a robot, hearing the front door slam shut behind me. Jace’s comment about the backseat only fitting two people wasn’t a joke. The doors are still open, and I see Esme and Hannah looking at me with wide, questioning eyes. Did they see what just happened? Mason is busy fiddling with the radio, completely oblivious. "I don't fit," I say, raising my eyebrows. Jace steps up beside me, dressed more casually than usual—just a t-shirt and jeans instead of his usual office attire. "The biggest seat is at the front. Honestly, you could just sit on my—" Jace starts to say, but I move before he can finish. I crawl onto Hannah’s lap, sticking my ass out a little more than necessary. My dress rides up dangerously high, and I feel like my underwear is on the verge of showing. I turn to face Hannah, straddling her legs. We’re nose to nose, and she gives me a look that says she knows exactly what I’m doing. Her eyes flicker to Jace and then back to me, widening slightly. Jac
"So... someone is coming over this morning," I say casually to Hannah as I switch on the coffee machine. She’s lounging on the couch and immediately pauses The Office. "You’re joking," she gasps. Of course, she immediately knows who I’m talking about. I turn around as I hear her get up from the couch. "What do you mean 'coming over'?" she asks, full of intrigue. I sigh, pressing the cappuccino button. "Well... he’s got a day planned with Mason," I reply, trying to figure out how to tell her that he wants us to join. Hannah’s face narrows in suspicion. "Okay... what are you not telling me?" Before I can answer, Mason walks down the stairs with Esme, who showed up early this morning and immediately went to him. I’ve been downstairs avoiding them. "But I thought it was just a day with Jace," Mason complains. "Come on," Esme chimes in, opening the door to the living room. "It’ll be fun!" "Good morning, Hannah," Mason greets, though his eyes are still on Esme. "I wanted a bro day,"
I’m not going to send him a nude, especially since his picture is foggy anyway. Instead, I open the camera and stand in front of the living room mirror. I made sure my phone is in front of my face. It's just my op half on the screen, with maybe my shirt pulled down just a tad to reveal more of my shoulders and collarbones. It's not particularly sexy or anything like that. I could’ve probably done a way better job. -Norali: Picture I hit send and wait for his response, heart pounding. -Mr. Grumpy: Yes, mirror kink added. -Mr. Grumpy: You're stunning. And the nerves come back again. Did he really just call me stunning? My cheeks flush, and I clear my throat, which suddenly feels tight. Does he really mean that? Jace isn’t the type to throw out compliments. How can he even call me stunning when my face isn’t in the picture? -Mr. Grumpy: Your turn. Pressing my lips together, I stand frozen in the living room for a few seconds. What else could be a kink? I glance around the room, t
My heart races as I stare at the messages from Jace, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. He’s online, probably noticing that I am too. Another text pops up. -Mr. Grumpy: Sugar Baby. My belly flutters. -Mr.Grumpy: I want you to tell me one thing. -Mr. Grumpy: If you answer, I won't punish you for ignoring my request in the supermarket. I told you to keep your phone on, you brat. I start typing, then delete it. Type again, delete. A flood of responses rush through my mind. My phone was on all night; I just didn’t have it with me. But I doubt he’d appreciate that answer right now. Also, “brat” sounds... kind of sexy, coming from him. Okay. -Norali: Shoot. -Mr. Grumpy: Tell me what happened last night. Was there someone with you? Aaah. So he is still wondering about last night. Interesting. Well, that is exactly the same for me. I want to know what happened with Charlene. But he isn't going to get my answer that easily. -Norali: What an inappropriate question to ask, Mr. Ad
"Yeah... apparently the clients did. These parties tend to get a bit wild." Mason’s phone lights up, and I lean over to see the chat with Jace.-Jace: Help me.-Jace: [picture]I stare at the picture, scanning it thoroughly. It’s his office, and sure enough, there are multiple women in lingerie—asses and breasts on full display—touching the men. "Ask him if he has a favorite stripper," I say to Mason. He smirks and immediately types.-Mason: Got a favorite girl?My heart pounds out of my chest. What office party has strippers present??-Jace: They're dirty and already sucked more cock tonight than I had drinks. Their speed is immaculate, though. They're in and out with the boys in minutes.Mason laughs out loud and continues the conversation.-Mason: You didn't answer the question. Is it the blonde one in red?He zooms in on a stripper in red, her back to the camera, her face turned just enough for her profile to show.-Jace: If you want a list of my top ten, I can make you one. Why a
Mason tosses the keys in the air, catches them effortlessly, and strolls over. "Let’s go, baby sis. Jace, thanks for your help. Li, also thank him, too," Mason says, using his teacher voice. Arabella watches us closely, and I can’t help but turn to Jace. "Jace... thank you SO much," I say with exaggerated enthusiasm as I throw my arms around his neck. Once again, he freezes, and I learn something new about him. He’s had sex—probably a lot of it—but physical contact, true intimacy? He seems to shy away from it. He seems to hate it. He's got no problem with using his hands and his dick, but a simple hug? Imagine the horror. And so, of course, I press my body against his, feeling my breasts flatten against his chest. With a slight shift, I position us so I’m facing Arabella. I give her a small, cruel smile as I slide my hand up to the back of Jace’s neck. He’s still frozen, his breath warm against my cheek. With my other hand, I grab his blazer, pulling him even closer. I turn my hea
The door beside me flings open. "What the fuck?!" I hear Jace shout. My hands are yanked from the steering wheel, and I see Jace bending over to remove the key from the ignition. He turns, gripping my chin. "Are you okay? I'll call an ambulance," he says, panic widening his eyes. "I'm fine," I manage to croak, closing my eyes against the wave of dizziness. "Bullshit. Open your eyes," he demands. I sigh and comply. "I'm fine. Just a little shaken." "Mason, call an ambulance," Jace orders, tossing his phone to him. "Jace, she’s fine. The airbags didn’t even deploy. She swerved right, hit the brakes—her head didn’t touch the wheel," Mason argues, glancing at me for confirmation. Jace's grip on my chin softens but his face remains inches from mine. His hand slides from my chin to my cheek. "Are you dizzy? Lightheaded? Nauseous? Do you have any pain?" Jace asks, looking down my body as if assessing the situation. "I'm really fine," I insist, though my head still spins a little. "Wh
Jace walks out with Arabella by his side, and she shoots me a scowl over her shoulder. I wink at her before turning back to pay. When we step outside, Jace and Arabella are still loading groceries into his flashy car. Multiple people around admire it. "It's a beauty," Mason says dreamily. "Why don't you just marry the damn car?" I huff, but Mason barely notices and heads straight for Jace’s car. I have zero interest in joining them—especially with Arabella clinging to Jace, eyeing him like he's prime steak. Instead, I push the trolley to our car and start loading up. "Apple girl," a voice calls from behind me. I turn to see the guy who saved me from a broken nose earlier. He’s leaning against a massive motorcycle, wearing a leather jacket and all. "Wow," I say, eyeing the beast behind him. He smiles and pats his motorcycle. "Thanks," he says. He gives me a casual look. "Was that your boyfriend?" he asks, motioning toward Mason. "My brother," I reply, closing the trunk. "No boy