Chapter 2 One

I let my long, brown hair spill over the side of the couch as I lay down. Once my shorts were hiked sufficiently up my ass, I tugged my pajamas top down, stretching the neckline until one naked breast popped out. The second I heard Liam's footsteps in the hall, my pulse picked up, and I pinched my nipple to get it nice and tight for him. My heart was pounding, my blood absolutely rushing. But with a smirk, I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.

I was going to fuck with him tonight. Hard.

Because he deserved it. He had me living in his house since my breakup last month. He had me following his rules. I couldn't speak to my ex, and I was banned from old friends who were bad influences. That was all fair enough, because it was more than true. But if he was forcing me to live with him, wasn't it some sort of basic etiquette to fuck his countless girlfriends a little more quietly every night? I mean every night.

And it wasn't even their moaning and screaming that bothered me. It was Liam. It was Liam and all the dirty, sexy, painfully hot filth he growled under his breath while his cock impaled whatever lucky girl was up against the wall between us. Take it... that's good, baby, suck it nice and wet for me. Fuck, just like that... swallow it, baby. Don't waste one fucking drop.

Then I always heard her moan like she'd just tasted a revelation.

It was torture. The deepest, wettest, most breathless torture every night. All I could do was lay there in bed, my hand in my panties, my mind flooding with fantasies of how I would never let any of Liam go to waste. It was incredibly shameful, but I'd had the dirtiest fantasies about him since the day I first laid eyes on him.

Honestly, how could I not? It was a dinner at my mother's house, and my seventeen-year-old self had opened the bathroom door to see his naked, sculpted ass before me. His muscles clenched and unclenched as he fucked a girl mercilessly against the wall. Not her pussy. Her mouth.

He was relentless and unforgiving, and neither of them noticed me at all. I'd opened the door just seconds before he exploded in pleasure, filling my ears with insanely long, deep, sexy grunts. The sounds tore straight from his hard chest and went straight between my legs. And it didn't stop there. "Let me see that tongue," I heard him mutter on my way out. "That's a good fuckin' girl."

God.

I'd basically been dreaming of being Liam's good girl since that day – which was bad. I knew it was. It was all so wrong and dirty, but the funny thing was that I was truly anything but. I was rigid, borderline innocent, which was why Liam grew so quickly and fiercely protective of me.

It was complicated, but my first everything came in college. First kiss, first base, first night of real sex. All of it happened sophomore year with Ethan, my first boyfriend. He was handsome, preppy, and two years older – the respected secretary of the oldest frat on campus. He was perfect and sweet until we got engaged two years ago. Then a switch flipped, and he became insane and controlling.

He came from old money and expected me to act like the perfect Stepford wife his family demanded. I was to wear only certain necklines. I was to never have more than a glass of wine in one night. I was never to sit, act, or speak with anything but the elegance of a duchess, and I could only associate with friends he approved of.

We had only missionary sex. I never came. He once said a woman's orgasm was irrelevant and that sex toys were for whores. Masturbation of any sort was forbidden. So I learned to fantasize and find pleasure in my sleep.

Of course, that led to a morning when I woke up to Ethan screaming in my face, launching spit in my eyes, furious that I'd moaned Liam's name in my slumber. He said I was never to see or speak to him again. I refused to comply. He screamed louder. I broke up with him. And here I was.

Liam knew the breakup had come because I'd said someone else's name in my sleep, but he didn't know it was his. Fine. I didn't need him to know that part. All I needed was for him to know that I sometimes had intensely sexual dreams, because the second he walked through his apartment door and saw me exposed on his couch, I was going to pretend to have one of those dirty little dreams right in front of him.

Like I said, I was going to fuck with him. As hard as I possibly could.

My heart slammed against my chest as I heard his shoes approach the door. I felt the cold air in his loft hitting my naked skin, making my nipple pebble even harder. My terry cloth shorts were hiked up so high they were putting delicious pressure on my clit. I could feel it pulsing deeper and deeper as Liam turned the doorknob.

I had seen the ways he ripped his stare off me when I came out of the shower or when I wore so much as a sports bra and shorts. I had heard him sock his friends in the other room when they mentioned his "hot stepsister" and her "perfect tits." I knew he thought of me in ways he refused to admit, because his friends hinted at it when they were plastered.

So as screwed up as it was, I couldn't wait for him to see me naked, even partially. Come on, Liam, come in and have a look. I kept my eyes shut, relaxed as I heard the heavy front door swing open. My heart slammed with every footstep.

Click. Clack.

Then silence.

"Fuck," I heard Liam breathe out hard.