Broken Pretty Things by Amber Faye

Chapter 40

I can’t believemy luck. The one time my mom wasn’t going to force me to go to one of the stupid elitist Torrent Bay socialites’ charity events, and I still have to go.

I look at myself in the mirror, smoothing down the black dress and all its fringe. The theme for this gala is ‘Roaring Twenties’, and I think I’m doing alright. I have a short flapper dress, and a matching headband. Blood red lipstick, and smoky eye makeup. My hair is in careful beach waves, and I think Ulla is right; this layering she did does make my cheekbones look sharper.

I went with Hero and Ulla to buy our dresses, and had a great time at the mall for the first time all year. I’m starting to feel sad that Ulla is leaving the country at the end of the year, but she reiterated that we are both welcome to visit her in Helsinki whenever. We talked about how beautiful the Northern Lights would be to go see, and Ulla told us we needed to try getting fucked outside, staring up at the swirling sky.

I smile remembering it, and then my face falls into a frown when I start to think about tonight. There’s got to be some sinister reason for him to invite me to this, especially as his ‘date’, and I just can’t figure out what it is. It could be another relic of an abandoned plan. Whatever it is, I’m going to try to have fun with Hero. Just as long as I get out of this alive, I’ll be fine. I’m feeling stronger and stronger recently.

Gunnar: Be ready to go in five.

I check my phone and sigh, turning back to my reflection. Even if the night ends with me disheveled, covered in fake blood, at least I started off looking nice.

I walk down the grand staircase to the foyer, and Gunnar and Ransom stand by the door, deep in conversation about something that looks pretty serious. At the clicking sound of my heels, they look up, and both of them make twin expressions of shock for a split second. Gunnar quickly lets it fade, his lips pulling back, but Ransom’s eyebrows stay raised.

“Damn, Andie,” he says, and then nudges his older brother in the ribs.

“You like the dress?” I ask.

“It’s fine,” Gunnar says, and opens the front door. “Dad’s already there and texting me not to be any later. Let’s go.” Ransom prods him again as he goes to leave.

“Dude,” he mutters. “Don’t be an asshole. Look at her.” It’s low enough that I almost don’t catch it, but I do, flushing pink. Ransom steps past Gunnar towards his own car. I guess we aren’t going together, which makes no sense. Environmentally speaking.

Gunnar twists his lips, and then lifts his arm, offering it to me.

“Just tell me,” I say before I take it. “What’s the angle here? I’m assuming humiliation, but can you let me know, I dunno, the flavor?” He rolls his eyes and takes my arm, hooking it around his.

“When we get there,” he says. I stop short of leaving through the door.

“Wait,” I say. “So there actually is something?”

He shoots a quick look over his shoulder and then blocks the doorway, cupping my face in his hands and stealing a long, hard kiss. He pulls away and grimaces, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and looking at it. “Lipstick. Do I look like the Joker?” I fold my arms and shake my head.

“Why? Do I?”

He just makes a low noise in his throat and kisses me again, but I pull away. “Why not just ruin my night now?” I ask him. His eyelids are heavy, his lips full.

“When we get there.”

I laugh at how casually he’s talking about humiliating me tonight. “No way. This is ridiculous. I’m going back to my—”

He takes my arms before I can stride away, and then watches his brother’s car exit the gates before he kicks the front door shut. “Fine.” He opens his tailored suit jacket to reveal his white button down shirt, top button undone, and I’m sucked into the sight of his lean, fit physique for a moment before realizing he’s pulled something out of his inside pocket. “You’re wearing this tonight. And it’ll only be humiliating if you let it.”

I look down and suck my lips into my mouth when I see the smooth, pink rubber … thing. Soft and cylindrical. “Aww,” I say slowly. “Is this like getting me a corsage?”

His face softens with an easy smile. “Put it in now.” I shake my head, but he cups my cheek. “Put it in.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll see.” He’s still smiling, and I flinch.

“This is supposed to teach me some stupid point about caring what other people think? Because everyone will know I’m walking around with some kind of… Does it make a noise?” I pick it up to inspect it, an eyebrow raised.

“Nope, it’s quiet. And it’s only on when I turn it on. Only you know — just like everything else about you.” He tucks my hair behind my ear, and then looks irritated at himself for the natural, sweet gesture and puts his hands in his pants pockets. “Let everyone think what they want to think about you. Just hurry up before Greta comes this way.”

I stare at him for a while, and he stares back at me, unmoving. For a second, even though I’m standing here holding some kind of mini love egg that I’d really rather not deal with right now, I can’t help but almost feel touched by his intentions. Almost. Confused by my own mind, I make a move to go find somewhere. He stops me and laughs.

“Here is fine.”

I sigh, and then I slowly lift up the fringed hem of my flapper dress. He takes another look around and helps me lift it over my hips quicker. Then his breath catches and he whispers, “Fuck.”

I’m not wearing underwear.

He runs his fingers down the few light hairs I don’t shave completely, and then stops at my clit. The pad of his fingers are a warm, teasing presence and I feel a surge of arousal as my cheeks color. “I should have worn panties,” I whisper. He looks weakened at my words.

“No,” is all he says. Then he takes a deep breath. “Knowing it’s there will stop me from fucking you, too, if we’re dancing all night.” I shake my head up at him. He turns away for a moment, and then turns back.

“Did you do it?” I fold my arms and nod.

He takes the second part of the toy from his pocket, flicking a button, and it starts to rumble deep inside me. A second press, and the vibration quickens. On the third press, it stops, and I swallow.

He runs his fingers up and down my entrance, his breaths shallow and his face tight. “I didn’t think about how crazy this would make me,” he admits in an exhale. “I guess this is going to fuck with both of us.” He lets me pull the hem of my dress down and rearranges the bulge in his suit pants. “Let’s get this over with.”