I’m wearing makeup for the same reason every other girl does.

To look good enough to impress a stupid boy.

A stupid boy who happens to be both my brothers’ best friend.

A stupid boy who stole the thing beating in my chest with a single kiss.

A stupid boy who claims he wants nothing to do with me.

Even though we used to be friends.

With an irritated grunt, I make my way toward the pool steps and march into the guesthouse.

Otherwise known as Oakley’s home.

Yeah, I know. Complicated.

Take my word for it. There is nothing worse than knowing the one person you want, the one person you can’t have lives in your back yard.

Part of me wants him to move out because the reminder sucks balls, but the bigger part of me—the dumb senseless part ruled by an even dumber organ—wants him to stay forever.

Either way, the close proximity makes it easy to keep tabs on him.

I’m closing the door to the bathroom when Morgan slips past it.

I open my mouth to tell her to fuck off, but I can’t because she slams hers over mine.

Fucking hell. Here we go.

I’ve told her time and time again that if she wants to dine on my pussy and get me off that’s cool, but we’re not in a relationship.

“I missed you,” she whispers.

I roll my eyes so hard I swear I see my brain.

“You saw me yesterday,” I remind her.

Her face scrunches. “I saw you, but I didn’t really see you.”

Oh, she means my cunt. “My brothers are right outside.”

She attacks me with her lips again, only this time I open my mouth and let her tongue brush against mine before I pull away.

Because the more she wants me…the less she wants him.

“I’ll be quick. Promise.”

“You have five minutes,” I agree. “And since it’s my birthday, you better make it good.”

Dropping to her knees, she moves the bottom of my bathing suit to the side. “Don’t worry, sexy. I got you.”

A moment later she spears my pussy with her tongue.

What started off as a way to manipulate her last year quickly turned into…well, this.

Back when I was in tenth grade Morgan used to hate my guts. But then in typical me fashion, I took her spot as upcoming cheerleading captain and kicked her off my damn squad.

Once my junior year and her senior year rolled around and she realized she was a nobody, she begged me to let her back on the squad.

I told her if she was willing to do anything to earn her place she had to meet me at the marina at the stroke of midnight.

I had every intention of fucking with her because I honestly didn’t think she’d agree to the terms, but Morgan surprised us both when her head dipped underneath my cheerleading skirt and she feasted on my freshly waxed hoo-ha like it was her last meal.

Hell, the girl enjoyed it more than I did. And given how experienced she was, it was definitely not her first time eating some coochie.

Of course, I promptly whipped out my phone—intending to score some blackmail on her for safekeeping—but that’s when I noticed the parking lot wasn’t so abandoned after all.

Stone DaSilva—the younger brother of the biggest piece of shit on the planet, Tommy DaSilva—was enjoying the show.

And making a little recording of his own.

I inwardly shudder.

The things I had to do to get him to erase it are things I never want to think about again. Fucking douche donut.

I look down at Morgan. “You’re gonna have to do better.” I grab the back of her neck. “Suck it.”

Her hot mouth suctions around my clit. Much better.

I should probably feel bad about taking advantage of her, but I’ve been open and honest with Morgan about what this is—and what this isn’t—from the beginning.

It’s not my fault she keeps coming back to my cunt like a moth to a flame.

Morgan’s a full-blown undercover lesbo—which is awfully ironic because her father is some rich senator who openly hates gay people—but it’s shitty that she doesn’t feel like she can be who she really is.

I’d probably have more respect for her if she was.

Maybe Oakley would too, because he uses her for his needs just as much as I do.

Then again, Morgan seems to enjoy being used.

Poor girl didn’t get enough affection from her parents.

It’s almost comical how much a fucked-up childhood can turn you into an even more fucked-up adult.

Not to mention all the kinky shit it can stir up.

Take Oakley for example. His mom abandoned him and his dad to be a dope whore when he was four.

According to Oakley, she was a beautiful tall blonde.

Can you guess what Oakley’s type is?

That’s right. Gold star for you.

I grab a fist full of Morgan’s blonde hair. “Make me come, slut.”

Normally, I don’t slut shame unless it’s deserved, but it turns Morgan on and makes her get me off that much quicker.

Plus, it helps me get all my resentment about her screwing my man out so I don’t have to cause her bodily harm on the daily.

I call our little arrangement a win-win.

I also call it temporary because she’ll be going off to college after the summer.

I have no doubt she’ll find a hot chick who likes munching carpets as much as she does.

And then she’ll be out of my hair—and Oakley’s—for good.

“That’s it,” I whisper as she works me. “Good girl.”

My legs begin to tremble as ripples of pleasure rip through me.

And then my mind does that thing. That thing where it seems to separate from my body.

I call it a protection mechanism, but psychology calls it disassociation.

I’m not sure why I do it whenever I orgasm with someone other than myself, but if I had to guess?

I’d say it was my way of ensuring they don’t get all of me.

Sex—not that I’ve had a cock inside me yet—is nothing but a physical stimulation that humans are fundamentally programmed to want.

The moment my orgasm is over, I fix my bathing suit and head for the door without so much as a thank you.

“Bianca,” Morgan whispers, her voice trembling as I turn the knob.

Nope. Ain’t nobody got time for a stage-five clinger.

My stomach dips the moment I close the door behind me.

On second thought, I should have taken my chances with Morgan because I’ve been spotted.

Sawyer’s big brown eyes cut to mine. I’m about to compliment her on her figure-flattering bathing suit, but she hisses, “Seriously?” Wide-eyed, she juts her chin toward the front door. “Oakley is right outside.”

Sawyer promised my secrets were safe with her, but I can tell they’re slowly eating her alive because she’s close friends with him too.

“It’s not my fault she got hungry.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “You have to tell him.”

I have every intention of informing Oakley about Morgan’s obsession with my cunt.

If the fucker ever decides to talk to me again instead of constantly avoiding me.

“I will…when the time is right.”

She shakes her head. “Not good enough. The longer this goes on behind his back the worse it will hurt him.”