Eighteen-year-old Katherine Carter was too pretty for her own good. She was the stop-in-the-streets-and-stare kind of pretty, the launch-a-thousand-ships-in-her-honor type.
Katherine had long golden hair, so pale it was almost white, and enormous blue eyes fringed with eyelashes like inky feathers. She had full, turned-down lips that looked like they'd taste like cherry candy and a tiny, turned-up nose like a doll. She had the long, lithe legs of a ballerina and the glossy, perfect skin of a magazine cover. Her taut little ass jutted out behind her, perfectly round and—thanks to the tiny bikinis she wore all summer—almost as tanned as the rest of her. Her perky C-cup breasts were full and firm, looking unbelievably large and delectable compared to the rest of her tiny body. She was perfect. And she knew it.
It was Halloween. Katherine was dressed as a devil in thigh-high red leather boots, fishnet tights, black leather shorts that exposed the bottom half of her ass, and a tight corset top covered in red sequins. Her fairytale blonde hair framed her face, teased high and held in place by a pair of sparkly red horns. She was in her element, queen of the party, the school, the universe.
Just like every year, she was at Hannah Cooley's party; the house was enormous, parental guidance free, and full to the brim of Willow Brook High's best and brightest. She was dancing on the coffee table, shimmering as though her skin was made of jewels and her veins were full of champagne. Her head was thrown back as she laughed and her body was captivating: temping and flawless and perfectly on display.
Her best friend, Jake Scott, was watching her, beer in hand, oblivious to the rest of the room. He was dressed as a pirate, all bulging muscles and flashing green eyes. His natural dreadlocks and scars—mainly from skateboarding and snowboarding—blended seamlessly with the costume. He wanted Katherine; of course he wanted her. The whole world wanted her.
A couple of girls who would be stunning in any other situation were dancing next to Katherine, looking plain and dim and somehow blurry. No one could stand up to Katherine's golden glow.
I have to dance with her, Jake thought finally. He was done with watching. He thrust his beer at an unsuspecting sophomore and cut through the vibrating crowd to Katherine's pedestal. With one step he was beside her, pressing up against her perfect body, staring down at those round blue eyes and pouting lips he thought about at night. She smiled at him like Daisy Buchannan would—like he was the only person in the world. That was the thing about Katherine: she was flawless, unattainable, and unbelievably confident, yet she still managed to radiate sweetness.
So close to her, he could smell the strawberry sweetness of her shampoo and the flower petal scent of her skin. He ran his hands down her bare back, his fingers reveling in the ruts of her ribs and the tight smoothness of her muscles. He could feel the swells of her tits against his broad chest and the little diamonds of her belly ring catching against his shirt.
He had touched her like this before, danced with her, fallen asleep in a tangled drunken mess with her, but never gone farther. He had seen her naked body in glimpses: skinny dipping, streaking, mooning cop cars, but he had never kissed her cherry lips or touched her perfect tits or felt the wetness of her waxed little pussy. He wanted her hands around his cock and her lips against his skin and her legs around his waist: he wanted every inch of her, inside and out. And maybe—just maybe—tonight would be the night he got it.
Katherine was holding a cup of something that smelled sharp and vaguely dangerous: she didn't approve of mixed drinks and she only drank beer on lazy school nights watching football with the guys. She took a swallow from her cup and leaned into Jake's body, feeling the solid heat of his skin bleed into hers. She could feel his cock pressing against her lower belly, hot and hard against her skin. She wriggled against him, her pussy aching and dripping, soaking the tiny lacy panties she wore. Her nipples were hard and wanting under the stiff cups of her corset. She was hungry, hungry for sloppy kisses and danger and wild lust. But she couldn't have that; of course she couldn't. She had a boyfriend after all.
But he isn't here, a soft voice hissed inside her head. Katherine was momentarily shocked at the traitorous thought. She was usually a good little girlfriend, although Daniel was her parent's choice more than her own. But tonight she was bored and horny and somewhat abandoned—Daniel, who was in law school, had deemed it inappropriate to attend this little gathering. He was the kind of guy who went to strip clubs but denied it, pretended to hate blowjobs because they were "demeaning," and wanted Katherine to wear a little less leather and a little more tweed. He was, as a result, prone to weekend trips to Vegas, a constant aura of shame, and a pile of covered up scandals taller than Katherine's boots. Propriety was everything to him. Propriety was nothing to Katherine.
Jake's eyes were blazing emerald fire and his hands on her hips were holding her just a bit too tightly. His body was strong and wild and full of a dark, angry energy that matched Katherine's. It was too much.
Katherine stumbled down off the coffee table, her cheeks blazing. She couldn't stay pressed between those bodies any longer. She's be ripping her clothes off if she did.
"I need some air," she announced as coolly as she could; her hands, pressed against her stomach, were trembling.
She hurried upstairs and through the master bedroom to the nearest bathroom. Her reflection stared at her, confused and shocked and longing, as she ran cold water over her wrists. The cool marble counter felt like silk against her skin. She sighed and closed her eyes.
When she turned around, Jake was standing there, concern and friendship mixed with the adoration and desire in his eyes.
"Hey," she said weakly.
"Are you okay?" he asked, genuinely worried. Katherine was clearly ruffled. Katherine was never ruffled.
"Yes." Katherine smiled innocently up at him through her veil of lashes. "I just needed a minute. You... Well. You will make some girl very happy tonight." She laughed a little, but it was a sad laugh.
"I don't want to make any girl happy tonight," he countered slowly. "Not any girl but you, that is."
"I can't," Katherine cried, so softly. "You know I can't." Her entire body was hurting, yearning, leaning toward this one that she cared about, dreamed about, thought about while her fingers played across her skin in the shower and beneath her silk sheets at night. She had wanted him as long as she could remember, since they were just children. He was the only thing in the world she had ever wanted and not taken.
