Fuck Marry Kill

Chapter One

"Oh my GOD, Kenzie!" I squealed, theatrically holding my elbows above my ribs, grimacing as the cold pool water shocked my hips and legs. "Is this thing not heated at all?"

Despite the scorching July heat in my best friend's backyard, the water felt frigid. Goosebumps rose on my fair, freckled arms, which were thickly layered with sunscreen (since I tend to burn, rather than tan — I guess that's what I get for being born a ginger, right?).

Kenzie laughed, splashing at me. "Don't be so dramatic, Bells. It's not even that bad," she judged.

I squealed again as the icy droplets splashed over my upper body, the pearly white bikini top hardly protecting me from the cold.

"I'm going to grab a drink, do you want one? I think we've got Sprite and Coke. Or water," Kenzie offered.

"I'll take a Sprite," I said.

I watched Kenzie climb out of the in-ground pool, half-ass drying herself before prancing over to the cooler, her honey blonde waves swaying around her shoulders, the ends dampened with pool water.

It was a typical summer barbecue, the first of the summer — our families held quite a few of them each summer. I grew up with Kenzie and her family, and we'd been friends since we were little kids. Kenzie and I always hung around in the pool, since our parents generally didn't want to be around our immature teenage chatter; however, the furniture wasn't far away, so they could still talk to us if they felt the urge to question us about school or boyfriends.

A thrumming beat hummed from Kenzie's parents' expensive sound system across the yard, where my parents, Kenzie's mother and stepfather, and a few other family members were sitting on fancy patio furniture. Kenzie's father was flipping various barbecue meats on a very nice looking stainless-steel grill.

He shut the grill and took a sip of his beer, the sleeves of his loose button-up rolled neatly to reveal thick forearms. I felt butterflies whir shamefully in my stomach as I watched him, and I tore my gaze away from him.

I'd always had a pathetic puppy crush on Mr. Carter. He was attractive, for sure, but not like... male-supermodel-attractive. He wore wiry glasses, had a salt-and-pepper goatee, and had a

killer

jawline. He had to be six feet tall, with an average body type for a 50-year-old dad. He was one of those guys that you could tell went to the gym pretty often, but also ate whatever the hell he wanted.

I didn't have any complaints. He was hot.

But his body wasn't what made me crush on him as a kid, of course. He was a very smart man — he worked in financial management, but he was incredibly knowledgeable in a lot of other topics, too. I'd always thought it was so cool that he seemed to know everything. In high school, he would always be able to help Kenzie and I while we studied, no matter the subject. He was very well-respected in our families and friend groups, always hosting the birthday parties and barbecues.

I'd obviously gotten over it, now that I was twenty and in college, but Kenzie still liked to tease me about it sometimes. For a while I'd been afraid that she'd told him, or that he'd found out, and I'd be too embarrassed to come to the family barbecues anymore. But in retrospect, I didn't think Kenzie had told him.

If he ever

did

know about my little crush, then he'd done a great job at hiding it — probably to save me the embarrassment.

As I was grabbing my long, coppery red curls into a messy ponytail on top of my head, Kenzie slid back into the pool with two Sprites, bright purple plastic straws sticking out of the cans. I wrapped my lips around the straw, careful not to smudge my bright red lipstick.

"So, how are things going with Justin?" Kenzie asked with a grin, leaning back on her elbows on the edge of the pool.

Kenzie was referring to my boyfriend, who I'd met a few months back at my university. She'd never met him, as Kenzie and I went to different schools.

All she knew about Justin was from the texts that I'd sent her over the last few months, while we'd both still been in school. Some of said texts had been sent while I'd been... under the influence, so Kenzie was more than aware of the details of my relationship.

I rolled my eyes, sipping exaggeratedly on the purple straw. "Uneventful. Not much has changed there," I huffed.

"Really?" Kenzie gasped, her hazel eyes inquisitive. "He still hasn't...?"

"No," I said, shaking my head, trying to suppress a laugh. "Pretty sure his top priority is whatever video game he's been playing lately. He texts me for nudes like, once a week since the semester ended, and that's about as far as I've gotten."

Kenzie giggled. "When are you going to dump him? What kind of guy doesn't want to..." She continued in a lower voice, "fuck his girlfriend — after

three months

of dating?"

"You're asking me, girl! I've tried. I don't know, he's really sweet..." I trailed off, my voice softening. "I don't want to dump him over something like that. It'll hurt him, and it will make me look like a whore."

Kenzie tapped her nails on her Sprite, shaking her head at me as she took a sip. "You're way too nice, Bella Clarke."

Our conversation trailed off into talking about her own boyfriend, then school stuff, then mindless chatter. We somehow ended up in the middle of a game of Fuck, Marry, Kill, and many bursts of giggles and funny looks from other barbecue attendees later, Kenzie hit me with a hard question:

"Fuck, marry, kill: Justin, Andy," — her brother — "and... my dad."

Fuck.

I scowled at her, and she giggled. I was a fool to think that maybe, possibly, just for today, Kenzie was going to let me forget about this.

A heated flush spread over my cheeks and chest as I realized I didn't even need to think about the question. My answer was obvious. I pressed my thighs together at the thought of having sex with Kenzie's dad.

I stole a glance at Mr. Carter, still holding a beer, laughing at something my father said. His teeth were so white, and as he laughed, I could see those little wrinkles by his eyes. His dark jeans hung off his hips, accented by a thick brown belt.

God damn.

An embarrassed smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, and I was suddenly incredibly grateful for the water around my chest, which hopefully concealed my hardening nipples.

"Obviously, I'd marry Justin, Kenzie — he's my boyfriend! And... I'm not really into blonds, so sorry, Andy. And... you're such an ass, Kenzie. You

know

that I would fuck your dad."

Her jaw dropped open in mock surprise, theatrically placing a hand over her chest before bursting into laughter. I couldn't bear to look at her, or him again, so I rolled my eyes.

"What?" I snapped at her. "Would you rather me kill him? Or

marry

him? Do you really want

me

as a stepmother?" I tried to laugh it off, but I could've bet that the flush hadn't left my cheeks, and I knew for a fact that the wetness between my thighs hadn't gone away.

"Don't be so embarrassed, it's okay to be into old dudes," she jabbed.

I splashed her just as her mom's voice piped up over the music: "Food's up, girls!"

I dried myself quickly, suddenly feeling uncomfortably warm. I shook my arms and hands, an action that probably looked like me trying to shake excess water off, but was in reality an attempt to shake off the tingly arousal that seemed to spread over me from head to toe.

I tried to take deep breaths as we approached the long table, which was stocked up with all the normal American barbecue foods. Paper plate in hand, I waited in line behind Kenzie as our families and friends started to load their plates.

Of course, out of the thirty people in the yard, the person behind me in line... was Mr. Carter. I tried not to look at him for longer than was appropriate. His ashy brown hair was graying at his temples, but it was

such

a good look for him.

"Kenzie's told me you've got yourself a boyfriend, Bella! Break the poor guy's heart yet?" he jabbed, his voice playful, but his expression inquisitive... almost a little too serious for what he was saying.

Why would he ask that? Could he have heard...

The blood drained from my face. If he'd heard any part of Kenzie and I's conversation, I'd melt into a puddle of shame on the pavement.

No way. It's gotta be a coincidence.

"Nope, still together! He's just staying up at school since he has a summer job," I rambled, smiling politely.

"Ah, happy couple, I see! When's the wedding?" he teased, his tone cool.

His voice was so deep, so... masculine. It almost distracted me, until I saw the smirk on his face. Our eyes met, and I saw the gleam of understanding in his deep hazel eyes.

Oh, my god. Wedding. Married. Fuck, Marry, Kill. I said I would... FUCK.

He was picking on me. He'd heard Kenzie and I. He'd heard me say I would... fuck him. He knew.

This time, all the blood rushed

to

my face, another flush creeping over my cheeks. Suddenly I felt very vulnerable, like I'd been caught doing something bad. The vulnerable feeling was immediately followed by a warm clenching, something I'd never felt before, deep in my stomach.

Am I in trouble? Is he going to kick me out of his house? How disrespectful of me to say such rude things about him in his own home!

Shame and fear washed over me. He could tell my parents. My strict, stuck-up, uppity parents. I wanted to crawl into a hole.

Mr. Carter elbowed my arm playfully, clearly sensing my embarrassment. "Just pickin' on ya, princess. Don't look so spooked." His tone was softer, and he smiled at me.

So he's not mad?

I giggled in response, shaking my head, hoping it was enough of a reply to get me out of the conversation. I knew I was being awkward, but what was a girl to say in this kind of situation?

Kenzie and I ate our food with the others, discussing what our families always wanted to discuss: school, work, extracurriculars. Exactly what I needed, to fall into a conversation to distract me from my humiliating encounter with Mr. Carter.

***

As the sun crept down, and everyone's plates emptied, Kenzie offered for me to spend the night — to have a sleepover, like we always used to.

We ended up watching a movie, but like always, we got lost in our chatter and paid no attention to it. When it'd gotten pretty late, and I was sure everyone was asleep (read: that there would be no eavesdroppers), I brought up my encounter with Kenzie's dad.

"Do you think he's mad?" I whispered. "Your dad, I mean. I swear he heard what I said in the pool." I knew the things I'd said had been uncalled for and disrespectful. Nothing Kenzie could say would change that.

The look in his eyes when he'd spoken to me replayed over and over in my head, and every time I felt the deep pressure in my core, a feeling that could only be associated with anxiety or arousal. I couldn't tell which it was, but I told myself it was anxiety, because I was

taken.

Committed to Justin.

"Pfft. You've never seen my dad angry. He gets

loud

," Kenzie said. "And girl, I think you're overthinking this. The wedding comment was probably a coincidence, and even if it wasn't, he probably forgot about it already."

"Hmmm." I shifted in my spot on her shaggy pink rug, my legs criss-crossed. I felt the tension in my chest start to release as I heard the certainty in her tone. Her reasoning seemed good enough to me — perhaps I

was

overreacting. After all, he was young once, too —

I'm sure he's said inappropriate things about women with his friends plenty of times.

I tried to shake the thoughts out of my head, because I knew I was just scrambling for reassurance.

"I'm gonna go get some water," I mumbled, rising to my feet. "Want some?"

"Sure," Kenzie said, scrolling on her phone.

I peeked out the door to make sure the coast was clear — as I was only wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of tiny shorts, and it'd be awkward to come across her younger brother or something — and padded down the stairs, into the dark kitchen. I started to fill two glasses with ice, and then water.

I glanced at the digital clock on the oven. 1:54 A.M. It was later than I thought. I tried to scan my brain for what I may need to be up early for tomorrow, if it was smart for me to be awake this late. The train of thoughts continued as I snatched the glasses in one arm and turned, my eyes on the floor as I turned to go to the stairs... but I didn't make it to the stairs.

Because as I turned, I slammed into a tall, solid figure. I squealed in shock.

No, no no no...

"

Shit," he said in surprise, his voice raspy with sleepiness.

A glance upward confirmed my fears: I'd just run into Kenzie's father. It was dark, but from the dim night-light in the kitchen, I could see that he was wearing one of those ribbed, white sleeveless shirts that men wore to bed. Fuck, his shoulders looked so... strong.

"I'm sorry!" I squeaked, and then gasped, realizing I'd spilled water all over both of us, and because I was panicked and not thinking, I brushed my hand over the wet spot on his abdomen.

I realized immediately what I'd done, and my cheeks burned. I yanked my hand away, and continued to apologize profusely. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I'll clean this up! I..."

I cringed as I realized I was wearing a soaked, white T-shirt... with no bra. My breasts weren't huge, but they were C-cups — definitely too large to cover with my hair. My nipples were painfully hard. I desperately tried to reassure myself that my nipples were aching because of the cold, sodden fabric, and not because

Mr. Carter is right in front of me and I've never seen his arms bare like this before and he looks and sounds like he just rolled out of bed and he's so HOT.

"It's fine. Paper towel's over there. I only came downstairs to see who was screwing around down here at 2 A.M." His tone was monotonous, but I could see him smirking at me, his eyebrows raised.

I scurried to get the paper towels, and immediately got down on my knees to wipe up the water. He looked down at me with his arms crossed for a moment. I felt pathetic. I was literally trembling. Somehow, that thought only sent another rush of wetness to my panties. My whole body felt hot. Seemingly unaware, he turned to the doorway to the laundry room. He gripped the hem of his shirt, as if about to take it off, and turned back to me.

"And Bella?"

I froze on my hands and knees, my back to him. I prayed to every god in existence that he couldn't see how badly I was blushing as I turned and met his eyes.

"Go to bed. You should

not

be up this late, and neither should Kenzie," It was a deep, authoritative growl.

I nodded, feeling my panties soak through at his command, and watched the door shut behind him. I threw the paper towels away, refilled the glasses, and headed back up to Kenzie's bedroom, the events of the last five minutes replaying in my head over and over, my nipples still aching, the area between my legs tingling uncomfortably. I tried desperately to regulate my breathing, which had become shallow.

Much to my luck, Kenzie had fallen asleep, her phone laying on her chest. I breathed a sigh of relief as I placed her glass on her night-stand, thankful that I wouldn't be questioned on my wet T-shirt, or on what took me so long.

I settled on the rug with the blanket and pillow she'd given me, trying to calm my racing thoughts (and heartbeat). My shirt was almost dry, but I didn't even care at this point. After what must have been ten minutes of tossing and turning, trying and failing to push the thoughts of her father out of my mind. The exposed, humiliated feeling as I realized he'd caught me saying I'd like to fuck him. The feeling of being on my knees while he watched me clean the floor. I could hear his voice in my mind, the raspy, commanding tone as he told me to go to bed...

Why did that turn me on so much?

I miserably shoved my face into the pillow, torn between self-consciousness and desperate arousal. I was incredibly stressed about the situation, but it didn't take away from the deep, clenching, heavy desire in my pussy.

Fuck.

The pressure, the tingling... it was just too much. I tossed the blanket off of me, and as quietly as possible, I tip-toed to the bathroom. I gently closed the door behind me, and not bothering to switch the light on, I slid my back down the door, settling onto the clean, gray rug.

I yanked my blue shorts off and slipped my wet, lacy panties down around my knees, spreading my legs slowly. One hand slipped under my shirt to roll my nipple between my thumb and index finger, and the other hand skimmed down my torso, caressing myself until I reached my bare slit.

I blushed again, feeling ashamed, even in private, that I would masturbate like this. In my best friend's bathroom! The thought made me feel like such... a

slut

. But I felt so needy, and there was no way I would be able to fall sleep without an orgasm. I circled my clit gently, trying to suppress a pleasured whimper. I'd needed this since Kenzie and I's conversation in the pool, whether I wanted to admit it to myself or not.

I pinched my nipple harder between my fingers, applying more pressure to my clit. My thoughts started to drift, and horniness swept all the polite, carefully-constructed barriers out of my mind until I was thinking about all the ways I wished that encounter in the kitchen had gone.

My lips parted as I thought of Mr. Carter demanding me to clean the water up on my hands and knees while he slid my panties down, thrust inside me, and pulled my hair cruelly. I thought of him telling me I was such a good girl for offering to clean the water up, while shoving his hard cock in my mouth. I thought of him coming into my mouth, of some of it getting on the floor, and him demanding for me to clean that up too, but this time with my tongue. All in that scary, sexy, authoritative voice...

My climax started to build inside me — a warm, tingly feeling starting in my fingers and toes, spreading all the way through my body. I tilted my head back, trying to ride the wave of pleasure, just on the edge of my orgasm. Heavy desperation gathered deep in my stomach, and I tried to bite my lip, but the breathless moan came out anyways.

I pinched my nipple even harder, circling my clit frantically, my toes curling. I imagined his big, strong, experienced hand between my thighs, instead of mine, and it sent me over the edge. I came hard, moaning desperately through my orgasm, arching my back against the solid door, forgetting that I needed to be quiet. I bucked my hips against my own hand, thinking of all of these dirty things I'd never thought of Justin doing to me.

I breathed heavily, my fingers lingering over my now completely-sloppy-wet pussy, pressing my fingers into my clit as little aftershocks fell over me. Now that the desperate lust was gone, I felt an unavoidable sense of guilt creeping into my brain. I'd just gotten myself off thinking about fucking some man I barely even knew!

A man who is not my boyfriend! A man who is thirty years older than me!

I screwed my eyes shut, closing my legs, my soaked cunt just another reminder of how dirty I felt. Finally, I wiped myself clean, just wanting to go to sleep.

And as dirty and as guilty as I felt for doing that, for a multitude of reasons, I couldn't deny the blissful calm that lingered all the way until I fell asleep on Kenzie's rug.

Chapter Two

"Okay, here you go. Don't try to grab it back all quickly when the guy looks at it, 'cause that looks

hella

suspicious," Kenzie said, handing me a fake ID.

For the first time in my life, I was going to use a fake. I had only a few months to go before turning twenty-one, so my original plan had been to just wait to go to bars and clubs until my birthday. It really just wasn't worth my parents finding out and, consequently, freaking the fuck out.