Page 34 of Play By The Rules
Fallon sits, talking in hushed tones with Betty. Her blonde hair is pinned behind her ears, the long strands falling to the middle of her back and the dress. Fucking hell. That dress. She’s a walking wet dream in a forest green dress that shows expansive cleavage and so much of her creamy skin that I want to trace over every inch of her with my tongue.
When she shuffles in her seat, the split on her skirt falls open, showcasing her creamy thigh, and my dick stiffens.
I haven’t seen her in over a week; not since I slipped back into her room to remove the binds from her arms and legs. With her here, all I can think about is what it will feel like to have her legs wrapped around me while she screams in ecstasy as I bury myself deep in her tight little cunt.
Fuck.
Gage slips into the seat beside me, pulling my attention to him. “I didn’t think she was coming?”
“She wasn’t,” I tell him, lifting my whisky glass to my mouth.
“Should we go say hello or something?”
I shake my head, not bothering to explain to him. Her mother slides up behind her, patting her on the shoulder, but I don’t miss the way Fallon flinches under her touch.
Caroline Marsh is a fucking viper who wants only the worst for her child. While I may get a thrill out of torturing Fallon, she’s something fucking else. Case in point, Fallon being here tonight. I’ve no doubts in my mind about why Caroline got her to come.
“You good?” Gage asks, watching me cautiously.
“Yeah. Just tired of this shit already.”
He nods, though, doesn’t move his gaze from mine for a moment. It’s only when my parent’s show up that his attention is pulled away. My mum gushes over us, pulling us both into hugs before stepping back and slipping into Dad’s hold.
He’s wearing a black three-piece suit, similar to Gage and me, with a white shirt and black bow tie. While Mum wears a floor-length red gown that folds in at the waist before falling into a wide skirt at the bottom.
“Is that Fallon?” she asks with a smile on her face when she notices the table next to ours. “She looks beautiful.”
That she fucking does, but I don’t voice my thoughts out loud, just nurse my drink and keep my gaze on the glass.
SEVENTEEN
Someoneupthereinthe sky fucking hates me. The moment I catch sight of Theodore sitting at the table next to mine, my heart races. Dressed in a tailored black suit that skims his body as though it was handcrafted specifically for him, with his usually mussed hair slicked back and his angular face on full display, he looks more mature than his twenty-one years.
He also looks much more handsome than usual, as if that is somehow possible.
The ballroom is filling as more people crowd into the space to take their seats. I’ve no clue what actually happens at a fundraiser for a university, if I’m being honest, but it seems to be a lot of networking and drinking an excessive amount of alcohol.
The latter I’m good with, but I can’t think of anything worse than moving around the room to talk to a bunch of stuffy rich people. I doubt I’d have anything to say to them that would be remotely interesting or attention worthy anyway.
“Fallon,” a familiar voice calls from behind me, though the shocked tone differs from anything I’ve heard from him before. Standing, I turn to my father staring at me with a blank expression.
He looks older than I remember, as though he’s aged years in a matter of weeks. His suit is well pressed and perfectly tailored to his lean body; but there’s something about the way his forehead wrinkles as his eyes move across the room and the lines that form around his mouth when he frowns, making him look years beyond his fifty-three.
“Hey, Dad.” He runs a hand through his greying hair, his smile wary as he glances at me.
“What are you doing here?”
“Mum forced me to come,” I tell him, twiddling my hands awkwardly. His eyes move across the room, never landing directly on me. “Hopefully, I can escape soon, huh? Wouldn’t want to be in anyone’s way or stay where I’m not welcome.”
“That’s not—” He pauses on a sigh. His face dropping and a frown marring his features. When he flicks his gaze to mine, our eyes lock. The hazel in his is so similar to my own, it’s like looking in a mirror. “It’s not that you aren’t wanted here, Fallon, it’s just—” he stops again, pursing his lips.
I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so awkward around him. We aren’t the best at talking to each other normally, but we do okay when we need to.
“It’s fine, Dad. I get it.”
I turn away, patting Betty on the shoulder. Tilting my head, I gesture to where the bathrooms are. She gets the hint, nodding her head before grabbing a couple of glasses from the tray on our table and walking in that direction.
“Fallon,” my father calls out to me, but I only shake my head and walk away. It’s one thing to not even be invited, but to then have one parent make you come when the other clearly wants you nowhere near, that’s a whole other.