Page 6 of One Mistake

One Decade Ago

I checked my phone for the tenth time in ten minutes. She wasn’t coming. And I told myself I didn’t care. Instead, I went back to work, leveling the camera aimed at the bed, and using my laptop to make a couple more adjustments to the robotic arm. This thing was fantastic, and any other time I would’ve appreciated the genius behind it. But right now, my dick was in charge of my brain, and I was stuck on a chick who wasn’t coming.

No. I had to focus. Me and the boys had a plan. And this was my part. Keaton supplied the boat. Jameson the robotics. Finn was going to be the supper stud. And I was the computer genius.

Keaton’s dad left his fifty-foot yacht—the Love Shack—docked here for us. He said we needed a place to bring our dates that didn’t smell like old beer and socks. And none of us—not me, Keaton, Finn, or Jameson—were going to argue. No one argued with Richard Shaw.

Plus, this boat had already bumped Keaton’s sex life to legendary status. Before the yacht, he was the quarterback and got more than his fair share of cheerleader pussy, but now, he was getting laid so much he was almost never in class, never at the frat house, and he came into practice with a blonde on one arm and a red bull in the other hand.

But the cameras were for pledge week. An epic pledge week.

I checked the clock again. Not even five minutes since the last time. And I felt like a fool. I hadn’t even bothered to get her name. Hadn’t reciprocated the holy fuck of an orgasm she’d given me. Hadn’t made this invitation sound like anything more than an invitation to finish what we’d started. And while I wouldn’t mind that, I kind of wanted to get to know her.

I was pathetic enough to be disappointed. I wanted to see her. Wanted more. Not just having her lips wrapped around my cock—which twitched again thinking of it.

Shit. I refocused on the computer and dialed Keaton’s cell.

He answered. “What’s up?”

“I need you to go into my room.” I walked him through running the set-up program on my computer which would link the cameras to the Alpha house for a live stream. Though he could see and hear me, the sound only went one way. Not a glitch. A way for us to spy on the pledges when we made them bring their dates to the boat.

But when I heard footsteps on the deck above, I hung up without any further instruction to Keaton.

“Hey.” Her voice was familiar, but nothing about her full-length skirt, turtleneck in a matching shade of khaki, and shoes my grandma would’ve loved was familiar.

“Hi.” She chuckled, and something about the sound… “Oh, my God. It’s you.” She’d gone from vixen to virgin. “Holy shit.” Last night, she was hot. So fucking hot. The transformation—no, reversion… I couldn’t…she was…fuck.

“Yeah. Holy shit. Right?”

Her face closed, shadowed, and I stood. “I’m sorry. I’m just surprised.” No way could this be the same girl who rocked my world last night. “Do we have a class together?” Maybe I could remember her name without having to ask. Or maybe I could figure out how to ask without looking like an asshole.

“Yeah. A lot of them. We’re both prelaw.”

I was a dick. And normally that didn’t bother me, but the sparkle in her eyes that was so bright and so sexy last night at the club I’d seen it from across the dance floor was gone now. My fault, undoubtedly.

“You want a drink or something?” And by something I meant another taste of my cock. Apparently, it didn’t care what she looked like. Plus, I wanted to know if the clothes and the confidence versus her shy girl behavior made a difference in how she…performed.

“A drink would be good.” She looked down at her hands.

I hadn’t started our dinner yet because I wasn’t sure she was going to come and I could order pizza for just me, but there was always plenty to drink on the boat. I cleared my throat and tried to adjust my hard-on in such a way that I could conceal the action and not scare her away. But all my mind would let me think of was her, her luscious lips, her tongue, those nipples. Fuck. The only adjustment I made was to get harder.

Instead of speaking, I nodded and turned away to head to the galley below deck. She followed then walked through behind me to the bedroom.

“Oh, wow.”

Yeah. That was why this place worked. Chicks loved the opulence. The marble, the carved wood, the lights in the ceiling, the big, soft bed with its plush blankets and ten zillion thread count sheets.

I needed a minute to get my shit together, so I took my time checking the fridge. “We have soda, juice, beer, vodka, whisky…”

“I’ll take a whisky, neat.”

Woah. She dressed like a nun and drank like a sailor. Fucking hot.

I poured our drinks and carried them to the bedroom. And my tongue rolled into a ball.

Naked.

On the bed.