Lessons In Revenge (Daredevil Book 2)

Grandmas dildo stealing cleptomaniac

I'd been to Austin's parties before, oh yeah, I'd been to every single one of them. How couldn't I when he literally lived next door to me, and made sure to come over to my place, raid my fridge and basically force me to come to the damn things.

But this time when he'd decided to have a party to celebrate his team winning -In my opinion, he just found any excuse to party, but he would argue that I was wrong to his grave- I'd decided to swing by to give Casey and Ryder a night alone.

I'll admit that I didn't actually hate his parties, I always had a good time and never had to worry about any creeps with Austin around. So I always knew that I was safe to have a good time.

I also knew I could get a little drunk at these things, and when I was drunk, I was handsy. And so was Austin. So it didn't come as a shock that my hands were on his ass, and one of his was on my hip, the other cupping my neck as our bodies grinded against each other to the beat of the music.

I had no idea when we'd started dancing together, or when I'd gone past the point of self-deprecation, my inhibitions forgotten. All I wanted to do was drag him into a room and have my way with him, and if the way he was looking at me now was any indication, his mind was in the exact same place.

Before I could stop myself, I'd let my hand travel up and under his shirt, his taut muscles contracting under my hand, his pupils blown wide as he stared at me like he was dying of thirst and I was the only viable source of water.

It was hot as hell.

After our hike and that tension-filled moment in the water, the sexual tension between us, that I was having a hard time denying, came to a sizzling heat, and I found myself fantasizing about dragging him into the nearest room.

I wanted him so fucking much, it was ridiculous. Did he have any idea what I wanted to do to him? God, how much had I actually had to drink?

I tried not to let my mind go back to that night. Tried not to remember the way his hand had slowly traveled down my body; fingertips leaving a scorching heat in their wake, lighting every part of me they touched on fire. And then his tongue had followed those fingers, and dear god, I craved that feeling so fucking much every night I laid in bed alone.

I don't remember much about how we ended up in bed that night, I do remember our first night, though. I definitely remember every single detail about our first time, but the second time we fell into bed together, some of the memories became hazy; clouded by the memories of how incredible he made me feel.

I remember fighting with him. He'd done something to piss me off, again, and I'd gone over to his place to chew his ass out.

He hadn't been wearing a shirt and that was the first time I'd seen his sleeve tattoo, it had made me hot as fuck and I remember thinking that I wanted to rip those sweatpants off. And then I'd remembered I was mad at him.

"How dare you?"

"How dare I what?" he'd asked, sighing tiredly, and rolling his eyes.

"How dare you tell my date that I am a cleptomaniac, and that I stole your dead grandmother's dildo?" I'd hissed, gritting my teeth, tossing my clutch on his couch,  and stomping over towards him.

Grabbing onto his shoulder, I pulled my first heel off, switched feet, and took the second one of before tossing them on the floor, my fists clinging to my sides as I glared up at him.