“And you're just a pathetic excuse for a man, trolling his girlfriend's little sister, cause he can't get anyone else to fuck him!” she yelled, shoving him in the chest before storming out of the room.
God, she was so embarrassed. What had she been thinking!? She had been playing with fire. Really, Tate was lucky. If he hadn't growled at her, she didn't know how far she would have let him go. Drew had never spoken to her, or touched her, the way Jameson had – it set her on fire. But the things he had said to her. She did feel like a little girl. She felt stupid. She swiped at the tears that were starting to fall down her cheeks. She grabbed her cardigan out of the kitchen and rushed back towards the front door. Jameson was strolling out of the bedroom.
“I wasn't trolling for you. I didn't even know you were coming over tonight. Like I said, you were the one bitching about how no one likes you, how everyone likes Ellie, asking about our relationship. Sounds like you were trolling for me,” he commented, looking down at her. She sniffled, struggling to right the sleeves on her sweater.
“Then you're an awfully easy mark, I almost had you. Geez, what a great story that would've been to tell Ellie when she came home, 'hey, tricked your boyfriend in to having sex with me – BTW, he's going to dump you.' Sounds awesome, maybe I'll just call her and say it right now,” Tate threatened. His eyes narrowed.
“Don't play with me, baby girl,” he warned her. She glared right back at him.
“You're the one playing games, and you lost. Move,” she ordered, waving her hand at him. He was blocking the door. He folded his arm across his chest and stood his ground.
“I don't lose,” he replied. She rolled her eyes.
“God! Whatever! You tried to seduce me, it didn't work, get over yourself! I just want to -,”
She was shocked when he suddenly grabbed her by the back of the neck, yanking her forward so he could slam his mouth down onto hers. She gave a muffled shriek, pushing against his chest. He moved both of his hands to the back of her head, his tongue forcing its way in to her mouth as he started walking them backwards.
She struggled at first, but it was half hearted at best. Tate knew he was an asshole. She knew it was just a game to him. Just sex. She knew she was doing something very wrong with her sister's boyfriend. She was doing something very wrong with a guy who was not her own boyfriend. She was going to burn in a special place in hell.
And she didn't care.
Tatum O'Shea was a good girl. She did the right things. Not because she wanted to, but because people were always telling her she had to, that she must. She dated Drew because her parents had set them up. She started having sex with Drew because he told her that's what couples do. She was going to an Ivy League school, because that's what O'Sheas did. They did not engage in illicit affairs with their relatives' significant others.
She still didn't care.
She moaned in to his mouth, running her hands under his shirt, pushing it up. He broke away from her long enough for it to go over his head, and then his mouth was back on her own. He was demanding, almost punishing, with his kiss. Rough and aggressive. Drew had never been that way with her.
She loved it.
“Doesn't feel like I'm losing now,” Jameson growled against her mouth, his teeth biting in to her bottom lip as they backed in to the couch.
“Shut up, or I'll still leave,” she threatened, and then gasped when his hands covered her breasts. He chuckled.
“I don't think so,” he replied, one of his hands sliding down her stomach and over skirt. His fingertips brushed against her thigh.
“I can do whatever I -,” she ended in a gasp as his hand suddenly yanked her skirt up, diving in to her underwear.
“You'll do whatever I say,” he amended her statement. Her eyes squeezed shut and she pressed her lips together, nodding.
“Yes, yes,” she finally breathed, standing on her toes.
“You wanted this – from the moment you got here tonight, you wanted this,” he said, his fingers plucking and playing with her like she was an instrument.
“No, I didn't. I didn't want this,” Tate managed to pant, one of her hands moving to grab onto his wrist. Not to stop him, but to ground herself. To feel him. He chuckled.
“You're awfully wet for someone who doesn't want to do this,” he laughed at her.
“Oh god.”
It was the truth, she knew. She was always like that around him, for as long as she could remember. She had touched herself to many fantasies about him. With Drew, it took a lot of foreplay to get her in the mood. But sometimes just thinking about Jameson was enough that she would have to change her panties.
“Turn around,” he ordered, but he didn't even give her a chance to comply. He pulled his hands away and grabbed her by the arm, spinning her in a circle. She was still getting her bearings when he started yanking her skirt up over her hips.
“Are we really doing this?” she gasped, gripping onto the back of the couch.
“Unless you walk away right now, yes,” he replied, yanking her underwear down her legs.
She didn't move.
He put a hand in the middle of her back and shoved her forward, forcing her to bend in half over the couch. She put her hands in to the cushions, trying to gain a sense of balance. She felt his hands kneading the flesh on her butt, and then he was shoving one, two fingers inside of her. She cried out.
“Oh my god!”
God, she was so embarrassed. What had she been thinking!? She had been playing with fire. Really, Tate was lucky. If he hadn't growled at her, she didn't know how far she would have let him go. Drew had never spoken to her, or touched her, the way Jameson had – it set her on fire. But the things he had said to her. She did feel like a little girl. She felt stupid. She swiped at the tears that were starting to fall down her cheeks. She grabbed her cardigan out of the kitchen and rushed back towards the front door. Jameson was strolling out of the bedroom.
“I wasn't trolling for you. I didn't even know you were coming over tonight. Like I said, you were the one bitching about how no one likes you, how everyone likes Ellie, asking about our relationship. Sounds like you were trolling for me,” he commented, looking down at her. She sniffled, struggling to right the sleeves on her sweater.
“Then you're an awfully easy mark, I almost had you. Geez, what a great story that would've been to tell Ellie when she came home, 'hey, tricked your boyfriend in to having sex with me – BTW, he's going to dump you.' Sounds awesome, maybe I'll just call her and say it right now,” Tate threatened. His eyes narrowed.
“Don't play with me, baby girl,” he warned her. She glared right back at him.
“You're the one playing games, and you lost. Move,” she ordered, waving her hand at him. He was blocking the door. He folded his arm across his chest and stood his ground.
“I don't lose,” he replied. She rolled her eyes.
“God! Whatever! You tried to seduce me, it didn't work, get over yourself! I just want to -,”
She was shocked when he suddenly grabbed her by the back of the neck, yanking her forward so he could slam his mouth down onto hers. She gave a muffled shriek, pushing against his chest. He moved both of his hands to the back of her head, his tongue forcing its way in to her mouth as he started walking them backwards.
She struggled at first, but it was half hearted at best. Tate knew he was an asshole. She knew it was just a game to him. Just sex. She knew she was doing something very wrong with her sister's boyfriend. She was doing something very wrong with a guy who was not her own boyfriend. She was going to burn in a special place in hell.
And she didn't care.
Tatum O'Shea was a good girl. She did the right things. Not because she wanted to, but because people were always telling her she had to, that she must. She dated Drew because her parents had set them up. She started having sex with Drew because he told her that's what couples do. She was going to an Ivy League school, because that's what O'Sheas did. They did not engage in illicit affairs with their relatives' significant others.
She still didn't care.
She moaned in to his mouth, running her hands under his shirt, pushing it up. He broke away from her long enough for it to go over his head, and then his mouth was back on her own. He was demanding, almost punishing, with his kiss. Rough and aggressive. Drew had never been that way with her.
She loved it.
“Doesn't feel like I'm losing now,” Jameson growled against her mouth, his teeth biting in to her bottom lip as they backed in to the couch.
“Shut up, or I'll still leave,” she threatened, and then gasped when his hands covered her breasts. He chuckled.
“I don't think so,” he replied, one of his hands sliding down her stomach and over skirt. His fingertips brushed against her thigh.
“I can do whatever I -,” she ended in a gasp as his hand suddenly yanked her skirt up, diving in to her underwear.
“You'll do whatever I say,” he amended her statement. Her eyes squeezed shut and she pressed her lips together, nodding.
“Yes, yes,” she finally breathed, standing on her toes.
“You wanted this – from the moment you got here tonight, you wanted this,” he said, his fingers plucking and playing with her like she was an instrument.
“No, I didn't. I didn't want this,” Tate managed to pant, one of her hands moving to grab onto his wrist. Not to stop him, but to ground herself. To feel him. He chuckled.
“You're awfully wet for someone who doesn't want to do this,” he laughed at her.
“Oh god.”
It was the truth, she knew. She was always like that around him, for as long as she could remember. She had touched herself to many fantasies about him. With Drew, it took a lot of foreplay to get her in the mood. But sometimes just thinking about Jameson was enough that she would have to change her panties.
“Turn around,” he ordered, but he didn't even give her a chance to comply. He pulled his hands away and grabbed her by the arm, spinning her in a circle. She was still getting her bearings when he started yanking her skirt up over her hips.
“Are we really doing this?” she gasped, gripping onto the back of the couch.
“Unless you walk away right now, yes,” he replied, yanking her underwear down her legs.
She didn't move.
He put a hand in the middle of her back and shoved her forward, forcing her to bend in half over the couch. She put her hands in to the cushions, trying to gain a sense of balance. She felt his hands kneading the flesh on her butt, and then he was shoving one, two fingers inside of her. She cried out.
“Oh my god!”
