Disclaimer: Beverly Hills Teens is not my property only my OC Areli “Rocksi” is. The series is owned by DIC/Cookie Jar and others involved. This is a mixture of sweet and sass, so a few little naughty words and some “intimate” situations may slip, causing you to blush a little. But I do promise you some laughs and some realness; life imitates art. Rated M
“So don't hold back
Just have a good time, yeah yeah
We'll make the rules up as we go along
And break them all if we're not havin' fun...”
Chapter 27pt. 1- Can I Lei You?
”Darling...not so loud...”
Pierce Thorndyke III, his normally coiffed hair undoubtedly destroyed, clinging with sweat and oil from a night of naked horseplay, held Larke Tanner's hips firmly as she rode his shaft like the mechanical bull at the Saddleranch restaurant.
”S-Sorry Pierce,” Larke replied softly and hoarsely, unable to hide at just how amazing the rich boy's cock felt inside her warm, wet walls. The shit was mesmerizing, damn near addictive. A bead of sweat that had pooled onto her Botoxed forehead dripped onto Pierce's chest, their teenage, writhing bodies glistening with sweat, spray tans becoming a thing of the past.
”Ohhhhh,,,Larke..your tits are fucking perfect!” Pierce cried, when she rocked her pelvis in such a way that made him speak the truth. Clawing his chest, Larke nodded, her blonde hair sticking to the sides of her face. If she kept fucking him in this manner, he'd buy her any other procedure she wanted, whether she needed it or not.
Taking a glance at the mirror above his bed, he combed a few strands of hairs from his eyes. He would definitely be going to Fifi's for a shampoo, scalp treatment and deep condition.
Apparently, Larke was not the innocent flower that the Teen Clu had deemed her. Last night, she was tipsy, flirtatious...she had been the one to initiate their impromptu night of pleasure. It was Larke that had kissed him first, it was Larke who had given the green light. It was Larke who ripped off his clothes and urged him to taste her on the kitchen island. It was she who insisted on “finishing up” in his bedroom. He had tried to sleep throughout the night after the first go round, but two more followed. Larke Tanner was insatiable, period.
He'd never wash his sheets again. Even though they were stick with sweat, perfume, and bodily juices, he wanted the memory of this tryst with Larke to last forever.
Looking down from her fleshy “perch” of sorts, Larke , a droplet of sweat trailing down her nose, smiled, noticing the surprised look on Pierce's face. Placing her hands on his impressive chest, she bounced, again making his eyes roll backward.
”Ohh..oh..Larke..oh shit, oh shit...!” Pierce wailed, still not believing the serendipitous situation. Leaning down, Larke captured his lips in a kiss, rolling them over so Pierce could be on top.
Pierce had been a better lay than Larke expected. Pinning her arms above her head, then opting to entwine their hands, Pierce drilled into Larke's soft, wet cavern, moaning from the tightness of its walls. Larke's streaky,tanned skin became flushed with reddish pink, her hair, drenched, strands of gold and wheat draping his pillows.
”Ohhhhh...Larke...I've fantasized about this for so long,” Pierce whispered between their lips before Larke shoved her tongue between them, shutting him up once and for all. Loosening her hands from his, she wrapped her arms around Pierce's back, bucking her pelvis in tune to his thrusts.
”Just shut up and fuck me, Pierce!” she demanded through gritted, white teeth, while Pierce plundered into her soul, his grunts growing deep almost like an angry pit bull. This was the most cardio he had done in a very long time.
Revenge fucking was all it was, and Pierce was the perfect candidate. If she was going to get back at Troy, why not fuck his frenemy, the guy that wanted to be just like him? Troy was the opposite of Pierce...Pierce was vain, Troy was confident; Pierce was a slacker, Troy was an overachiever. Pierce got no girls; but Troy could have his pick. Pierce was a schemer; Troy was honest. However, considering the conversation they'd had before she'd spread her legs, Larke realized that Pierce was only perceived a certain way because he acted out for not fitting “the mold”. However...Pierce was undeniably a much better , more thoughtful lover; especially more giving when it came to oral pleasure. She had lost count of the hours Pierce had spent “below sea level.”
“Oh Pierce..yeah, right there..oooh,” Larke groaned when he hit a very spongy spot, causing tingles in her butt cheek. Chuckling, Pierce reclaimed their kiss, changing the tempo of his thrusts, going deeper, making her cry out that much louder. Hearing Larke's soft, delicate voice call his name and curse in the same breath was music to his ears.
So many of Larke's pictures from her Teen Scene magazine covers and pullout posters from Sports Illustrated, graced Pierce's bedroom walls. Even a painted portrait of Larke was hung along the corridor to his bedroom. Larke found his devotion creepy at first, but it confirmed that she could count on his loyalty and this definitely would not be the last time she'd fuck him. There would be no “relationship” and definitely not any love...Pierce Thorndyke III would be Larke's new bene-friend.
”Oh shit...Pierrrrcccccccceeee.....I'm gonnaaa...I'm gonnnaa....!” Before she knew it, Larke's head plopped backwards against Pierce's pillows, her body convulsing. Pierce, holding onto Larke tightly, was shaking as well, the scent of their bodies mixed with sweat , cologne and alcohol, damn near choking Pierce. It hadn't been as fresh and as romantic as he'd hoped, but Larke Tanner was naked in his bed, clutching him, trembling like a leaf in an earthquake...for about the fourth time.
“Ooohhhh...ooohhhhh....whew...” Larke uttered, gasping for breath, while Pierce slid out from her, rolling over onto his side,trying to catch his own. Pierce's back was sore, and not to mention he had a wicked Charlie horse.
“Pierce...are you okay?” asked Larke, noticing that he was rubbing onto his back, several wlets from her nails decorating it. He would have to wear a shirt to the luau, poor dear.
”Yeah...yeah...I'm fine,” he answered feeling his head spin. “Wow...please excuse me, darling.” Getting up from his side of the bed, Pierce covered his crotch, limping toward his adjacent, luxurious bathroom. Her body tired and very sore, Larke stretched, hearing her joints pop.
'Oh dear, time to see the chiropractor,' she thought, reaching for the blanket that had been tossed toward the edge of the bed. Ever since her implants, Larke was having some issues with back and shoulder pain, her main reason for letting Troy, and now Pierce be on top. She could only do forward or reverse cowgirl for so long. She had planned to get her orgasm and leave immediately, but Pierce had been such a gracious host, and they had connected emotionally. His vulnerability had given her a foothold to manipulate him; get whatever she needed from him to make Troy jealous She couldn't let on too soon that Pierce would only be good enough to fuck her when she craved it. Pierce's new role in her life was simply as a plaything in her life, or until she and Troy got back together.
She heard Pierce humming ' I Can't Feel My Face' by the Weeknd, and the sound of water running. He was probably washing his face with his Obagi cleanser and would moisturize right after. So high-maintenance he was in comparison to Troy, but Pierce was indeed very good looking. She wouldn't have dared downgraded. That would have been like Troy fucking Bianca, but hell would freeze over before that ever happened.
'Ooohhhh,” Larke grimaced at the thought of Bianca and Troy in coitus. She wanted to vomit right then and there. Shivering from the AC, she pulled the duvet up to her neck, her nipple throbbing.
”Here I am, Larke darling, did you miss me?” asked Pierce as the bathroom door opened, a sky blue robe covering his body, the scent of fresh cologne following. “It's still pretty early, did you want to get some sleep?”
”I'll sleep when I go back home,” Larke answered as Pierce took back his place on the bed beside her. Playing into the role, Larke laid her head against his chest.
”How about...we take a shower; then go downstairs and have breakfast?” she suggested, letting him comb through the matted stickiness of her hair. “We've got to get ready for the luau tonight.”
”Ooohhh...that's right, I've definitely got to get a massage in today before FiFi gets booked up,” said Pierce, rubbing his forehead. “And I have to pick up the limited edition Tommy Bahama shirts she ordered for me.”
“Let's not waste time then, Pierce?” Larke suggested before placing a kiss on his cheek, a hand sliding down the lapel of his robe. She wanted to get it in one more time just for security's sake. She already had Pierce eating from the palm of her hand; now she wanted him to eat from somewhere else.
'Oh shit,' thought Pierce, looking down at his package. It was gonna be one hell of a morning.
”Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite song...You go ahead, let your hair down...Sapphire and faded jeans...I hope you get your dreams...Just go ahead, let your hair down...”
'If only I could just have the massage without the damn sound effects,' thought Bianca, her head pressed into a white pillow , her long, obsidian locks twisted into a tight, braided bun.
Fifi's massage rooms were known for being designed similar to Japanese massage parlors, but the l tatami floor, and wooden walls gave them an air of class, not kitsch. Koi ponds with artificial waterfalls built in select corners of the rooms and large vases filled with bamboo were placed outside the front of the fusama doors aided in the relaxed ambiance. Bianca was partial to the lightscapes of flying cranes, and dragons that were projected onto linen shoji screens. Also, for an added touch, expensive, silk kimonos were given as gifts to each individual patron. No wonder massages were always hard to come by at Fifi's salon and spa. The atmosphere alone took one to another world; except for Rubea's singing. One could do without it.
Bianca, wearing a Cheshire grin, purred in contentment. She had managed to snatch the last massage available for the day and heard no mention of Larke Tanner. Nude, covered only in a soft, white towel over her behind, she buried her face in the pillow, enjoying the deft hands of Rubea as she pummeled into Bianca's back.
'Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite song...You go ahead, let your hair down...” Rubea sang, her Russian accent thicker than raspberry marmalade. Closing her eyes tightly, Bianca tried her best to will away the sound of the dying giraffe, focusing on Rubea's deft manipulation of her muscles and nerves.
”Ohhh Rubea, your hands are like Heaven,” Bianca mumbled, almost falling into a trance, her French-polished toes tingling.
”Sapphire and faded jeans...I hope you get your dreams...Just go ahead, let your hair down...
You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow...Bianca, have your implants been giving you any problems?” asked the Russian masseuse, her auburn hair slicked back into a tight ponytail reaching below the collar of her white Fifi's Spa/Salon polo shirt.
”Why, no,” said Bianca shaking her head, her voice muffled. “My bubbies haven't given me any problems. Besides; my posture is perfect from doing Pilates.”
Rubea chuckled at Bianca's haughty tone of voice.”Well, I would like to schedule massages with you at least once a week because the bubbies are quite large and your frame is small in comparison, “ she explained. “Poor Larke, her implants are huge; she has to go to a chiropractor for her back pain. But it's her own fault for not listening to me.”
”Larke? Back pain? What did you tell her?” Bianca asked with perked ears, lifting er head from the pillow slightly.
Rubea, placig her fingertips along either side of Bianca's spine, shook her had.” Tsk, tsk... she is so stubborn, that one. I told her, don't go too big, because they look even bigger after surgery ; swelling, fluid, you know. Of course, she went against what I suggested...and what the doctor suggested and demanded larger. She actually had two implants pressed together in each breast, that's why they look so round like oversized grapefruits.”
Bianca snorted as she chuckled, clapping a hand donning a 5 carat , Princess-cut emerald ring from H. Stern on her middle finger.
”She just refused to listen to me, Bianca. I told her to always wear the special stability bra they give you after surgery, to help you heal and all that jazz,' Rubea rambled, walking her fingers down to Biance lower back. “And she needed to put cold compresses on them and massage her nipples so they will still have feeling. Or maybe even ask Troy to rub them for her ;he has such big hands.”
'Wilshire has big hands,' Bianca smirked , recounting the days she'd coerced her lowly, doting servant into massaging her newly implanted breasts daily. The way he accidentally flicked her nipples with his callused thumbs sent tingles through her spine, making her cheeks flush. In their current state of affairs, his tongue and lips would give her the same effect, but purposeful.
Feeling her cheeks growing warm, Bianca waved her face. Rubea, feeling the change in Bianca's body temperature, ceased massaging.
”Are you okay, Bianca?” asked Rubea, picking up the remote that controlled the temperature for the room, pressing the “cool” option. “I can't have you passing out before the luau.”
“Oh...I'm fine,” Bianca insisted, but thankful for the sudden burst of cool air. “I'm just surprised to hear that Larke was being insubordinate to good advice.” Sighing, Rubea set down the remote on the small, wooden table by the sink a few feet behind her.
”I don't know what gets into some of you rich, spoiled brats,” Rubea replied, pressing her hands into Bianca's lower back. “You think you are so invincible. You ask adults questions, but you don't want to listen to adults when we try to tell you the right things.”
Bianca, her green eyes sparkling with mischief, grinned. “What didn't Miss Teen California do, Rubea?” she pressed, faking concern for the massage therapist's feelings.
”Oh my gosh...Larke went on a photoshoot three days after surgery, and while she was posing, she was in pain. Then...she made a wrong move and she tore the stitches in the underside of her breasts. She said the facial expressions in the stills were so bad, they couldn't use them. Well, the magazine had a deadline, and they couldn't use any of her pictures.”
”Larke Tanner, taking bad pictures?” Bianca answered, feigning sympathy, wanting to bite her tongue.. “That's impossible. She's the most photogenic girl in the entire Teen Club.”
”Oh, don't be fooled, my dear. Some of the images you see in current issues of Teen Scene are of Larke before her implants, but they used makeup to contour her cleavage and photoshop to make them look bigger, about the size they are now,”Rubea explained. “Do you notice that she's wearing outdated Moschino bathing suits?”
”But she could play those off as...vintage?” Bianca asked, trying her hand at playing Devil's Advocate for the sake of gaining information. Rubea shook her head.
”No...those are outdated; you can't give it a 'vintage' label,” Rubea explained. “When word about the shoot got to different photographers, they refused to shoot her until she'd properly healed. No one wants to get blood and pus on their expensive fabric. And with her implants being so big, she risks her skin on the sides becoming infected and torn.”
Bianca, wrinkling her nose in utter disgust, looked over her shoulder at Rubea. ”Larke was doing a photoshoot at the Teen Club not too long ago...right before the beach party...during the beach party,” Bianca muttered. “The photographer was on his knees shooting her from the bottom up rather than straight on.”
Rubea rolled her green eyes.”Don't be fooled, Bianca, Larke is paying that photographer. She may have told everyone it's a Teen Scene shoot, but in truth, those shots are being funded by the convicts of Lompoc prison.” Bianca's upper body shot straight up, her mouth, falling to the floor. Incidentally, the towel cover her breasts had fallen, revealing her own set of enhanced twins.
”Lompoc prison?” asked Bianca, in a state of sincere shock. “Has she lost her mind?” Shrugging, Rubea turned her head, motioning with her hand for Bianca to please cover up and lay back down.
”Ooops..soory,” said the raven-hair goddess, wrapping the white towel around her nudity before laying back onto her stomach. “This news is quite surprising.”
”She will do anything to stay every man's fantasy, I guess,” Rubea reasoned, “or one day she's gonna marry an 85year old man and take all his money when he dies from her fucking his brains out on their wedding night. I don't understand it, really. She has the most arrogant attitude of any young girl that I have ever met, but puts on this facade that she innocent as the pure-falling snow.”
”Rubea, surely, you jest! Our sweet, innocent Larke would never tarnish her squeaky-clean image to salvage her modeling career?” Bianca asked with false concern, placing her hand over the base of throat like Tara Belle would. “Some of her fathers' former friends are serving at Lompoc.”
”Sssshhhh!” said Rubea, placing a finger over her lips. “No one knows about that, Bianca. I only told you because you can speak Russian.” Bianca nodded, placing her hand over her mouth...to keep from laughing hysterically.
”Larke is strange. She is a straight-A student, but sadly, she is not the smartest when it comes to her health. She goes on the weirdest of diets and does cardio for hours at a time. Why can't she just work out like that ..uhh...that new girl...she looks Asian, but she's Black...”said Rubea, trying to remember. “Darn it, what is her name?”
”Oh, you must mean Rocksi?” asked Bianca with a genuine smile. “She's Chinese, Jamaican, and Black. She's Shanelle's cousin...and my biggest fan.”
“Not a bigger fan than Wilshire, I assume?” Rubea asked, placing her palms onto Bianca's back, adding slight pressure. “Because fans only like how you appear to them; friends actually want to look deeper. She doesn't seem the type to take people at face value.”
Bianca's thoughts went back to the first day she'd met Rocksi. Rocksi had been blunt, yet friendly and kind to Bianca. She was also not jumping on the 'Larke' bandwagon and seemingly had a mind of her own.
”I like her. She not only has great tatse in fashion being from New York, but she is also doing this luau with me and Troy.” Bianca replied. “She is very pretty, and unlike Shanelle, she's a bit more direct and less diplomatic. For once, I don't feel as though I have to compete with another girl; I'm not threatened by her.”
Jerking her neck in response to Bianca's comment, Rubea wrinkled her brow. “Bianca Dupree'...have you lost your mind? You are Romanian and Italian, a very strong cauldron or superior beauty. Why would you feel the need to 'compete' with anyone?”
Sighing, Bianca rested her chin on her hand. “Because of Larke. Larke wins every damn thing...every pageant, every honor, every guy...”
”Does it hurt your feelings...Bianca, you know you can be honest and our conversations won't pass these wooden walls,” Rubea assured. Sighing, Bianca nodded.
”Anyways, how did you meet Rocksi? Has she come for a massage?” Bianca segued, while Rubea massaged her tiny waistline.
”Nay,” said Rubea shaking her head, kneading down into Bianca's lower back, where the tightest of her tension sat. “Shanelle brought her in one day to pick out a bathing suit for the luau. She had an accent that I just couldn't place and her eyes are very pretty.”
”Yeah,” Bianca nodded. “She's quite unique looking. I haven't had the chance to really go shopping or have lunch with her. She's more urban...edgier than the rest of us.”
”But she's not boring, I assume,” Rubea offered. “Bianca what physical activity have you been doing? You are really tight down here? ” she added, massaging the lumbar region of Bianca's back. Bianca squirmed, not prepared for Rubea to touch her where she was still a bit sore from riding Wilshire for hours on end.
”Tennis, I do Pilates, ride horses, and my butler and I have been doing partner workouts,” Bianca half-joked, knowing Rubea wouldn't catch on. “But remember I have done gymnastics which involves a lot of walkovers and backbends.”
”Well whenever you get done working out with your butler on days you are not seeing me, ask him if he would be so kind to stretch you out afterwards,” Rubea suggested. “You'll be less tense that way.”
Bianca bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Ok, Rubea, I'm sure he won't mind.”
“What ...in the world?”
Jillian, Pierce's 10 year old sister tossed and turned in her huge, California-King bed the night before. Groggy, her ponytail messy, her face lined from the seams of her pillowcases, she checked her Facebook updates, looking for empathy from random strangers. As she casually waltzed into the elaborate kitchen, hoping to find some pancake mix to make Belgian waffles, she came upon a sight that looked like a cross between a frat party and a murder scene.
”Mortimer is going to have a fit,” said Jillian, placing her small hand with an opal pinky finger ring with a French polished manicure on her chest. What she thought was blood was instead pomegranate juice. The broken bowl could easily be replaced from Pier 1 and pomegranates were always at Trader Joes.
Walking closer, inspecting the island, Jillian gasped. ' That's not my PINK track suit on the floor? ' she thought, finding a pushup bra that was too big for her, and too gaudy for her mom, a purse that was not her favorite designer, stray blonde hairs that were almost platinum, and even more busted pomegranates, complete with fruit flies buzzing around. Jillian's violet eyes framed with thick, full lashes grew wide.
'OMG! Pierce had a chick here last night!' thought Jillian, changing the mode on her Iphone to “camera”, taking pictures of the scene like a homicide detective. Pierce would constantly pick on her for having already developed breasts at her young age as well as her many trips to the dermatologist. Jillian had suffered a lot of cyberbullying because of her brother's roguish ways with girls on the internet.
'This is for all the crap I've suffered because you're a manwhore, big brother,' Jillian mused, taking pictures of the fruit-filled evidenced, zooming in on the bra. 'Instead of protecting me; you've made my life a living hell...and I'm only 10!'
Switchboard had been very instrumental in exposing Pierce for his less than gentlemanly manner towards females. On the other hand, Pierce never brought home a girl for their parents to meet, or even give the the grand tour of their Bel-Air mansion, soemthing he took pride in. The only girls she'd seen in his roadster was Tara or Nikki and even Bianca once, but that was emergency situations, nothing romantic. Tara had slapped him, and Nikki poured soup over his head at the Spring Fling she'd heard. With that being said, who was the dumb girl, who'd left her clothes on the kitchen floor and obviously spent the night screaming his name. Jillian assumed he'd fallen asleep watching “House of Wax.”
'Oh Pierce...my revenge will be so sweet,' thought Jillian, scrolling through the pictures on her camera, smiling wickedly.
”That shower was quite...invigorating, my darling, and what are you hungry for?” Jillian heard her brother saying from what sounded like was from the top of the stairs.
'Oh crap!” Jillian panicked, looking for a place to hide, spying the pantry. Quickly, on bare, sky-blue polished tiptoes, Jillian, dressed in a black PINK pajama top and matching capris, scurried into the pantry. Silently, she closed the door, peering through the built-in blinds.
”Pierce, right now, I can't think of anything tastier than you,” said Larke playfully, leading him down the stairs, wearing one of Pierce's slate grey, silk Versace pajama shirts, panties underneath, with her sneakers in one hand.
”If my legs didn't feel so wobbly, I'd carry you down these stairs...I'd offer the elevator, but you know...I don't think we'd ever get any breakfast that way,” he purred. Larke, giggling, looked over her shoulder.
'OMG!' Jillian screamed in her mind, her lips pressing tight together. 'My brother had sex with Larke Tanner?' OMG!' Quickly, Jillian turned on her “ video” mode. Al least, she could get them on voice.
”You look so perfect, even in the morning. Pierce,” she said with a wink. Larke's blonde hair was cleaned, damp fresh from the shower; her face, well scrubbed and anti-aged with Obagi, looking young and glowing. Pierce, dressed in a white Polo shirt, pale blue, Armani Exchange Jeans and white Sperrys, stopped in the middle of the staircase, taking Larke by the hand, his smile beaming.
”What?” she answered, shyly, his smile making her feel a bit nervous. Then again, her body was still shivering from her orgasm from five minutes prior. Speechless, Pierce placed a kiss on her hand.
”Larke, darling, I think that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said,” Pierce replied, pulling Larke into his personal space, his cologne damn near choking her. Playing her role, Larke ,wrapping her arms around his neck, pressed her lips against Pierce's in a very convincing kiss.
'Ewwww...did she really just say my brother is tasty?' thought Jillian, cringing, holding the phone in the air hoping to record every disgusting word.
Larke was surprised at Pierce's insatiable sexual appetite. Even as they kissed, his hands were sliding up and down the length of her newly sore back, sending little tingles down to her buttcheeks. He'd screwed her brains out...in the shower, on the bathroom floor, and orally pleased her on the edge of his bed. Troy had never had that much stamina and always wanted to have sex in the “standard” positions. Pierce had maneuvered her body in ways she only thought were possible for Cirque de Soliel performers.
The rumbling of her stomach, caused him to snicker as he kissed her. Laughing softly, Larke opened her blue eyes, only to be greeted by Pierce's satisfied smile.
”So what are you really hungry for Larke? Our chef is on vacation and I suck at cooking,” Jillian heard her brother say when he and Larke finally made it into the kitchen. Through the blinds, Jillian could positively identify Larke Tanner. No doubt about it.
”Hmm...maybe we could go to that diner that makes those crepes that I like?” said Larke, setting her sneakers onto the floor before unbuttoning the shirt Pierce let her borrow briefly. Pierce's eyes, diverted from Larke's pretty face to her heaving chest. Jillian's mouth fell open in disbelief as Larke Tanner became topless and shameless in the Thorndyke kitchen. Blushing, Pierce looked away as Larke bent down in front of him to retrieve her bra.
Jillian couldn't help but be slightly envious of Larke's perfect skin and even more perfect body. She could understand her brother's creepy obsession.
”L-Larke, should I...uh...turn my back to you while you get dressed?” he asked politely, rubbing the back of his neck. Standing up straight, Larke shook her head, sliding her arms through her bra.
”Pierce, we fucked all last night and this morning...you've seen parts of me that can't be photographed ,” she joked. “At least not publicly,” she alluded with a wink.
Jillian's violet eyes grew even wider as she held up her phone to get a good view of Larke and Pierce in such close proximity. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. It just didn't feel real.
'My brother had sex with Larke Tanner...and she's half-naked in our kitchen?' thought Jillian, pressing the “zoom” button on her phone, getting a good clear view of Larke's face down to her boobs.
”I'm sorry for the mess I made...all the busted fruit and stuff,” Larke said, pointing to the pomegranates that had been destroyed from their tryst on the island. Chuckling, Pierce shrugged. Jillian, angling her camera as Larke pointed to the fruit, smirked.
”Serves, them right, they were in the way,” Pierce winked, watching Larke wiggle into her sweatpants. “Did you want me to drop you off at Fifi's Salon or at your house?”
'Real smooth, Ex-lax', thought Jillian, shaking her head at her brother's lack of diplomacy. Dropping off a girl to the hair salon after screwing her just seemed kinda rude.
”Ohhh...just drop me off at my house, “ Larke replied, picking up her hoodie from the floor, pomegranate juice stains on the front of it. “Oh dammit...oh well...”
”I've...got a Polo sweatshirt in my roadster, you can just throw that on, before we go in to eat,” Pierce offered, as Larke hurriedly slid the hoodie over her head without unzipping it first, sliding her feet into her sneakers. Grabbing her purse, Larke unzipped it, checking her phone for messages.
Troy had not called, and there were no texts.
'Shit!' thought Larke, scratching the front of her head. 'Troy got over me, fast, didn't he?'
”Are you okay, Larke?” asked Pierce, noticing her demeanor as she checked her texts. Sliding her phone back into her purse, Larke stood on her tiptoes, giving Pierce a kiss on the cheek.
Jillian wanted to gag at the goofy smile on Pierce's face. Larke was either desperate or drunk to have slept with him of all people. He would act like even more of a proud, puffed up rooster than usual.
”Like you, everything's perfect, Pierce,” she reassured, with a misleading twinkle in her blue eyes. “Are we gonna clean up that rotten fruit from the floor, or is Mortimer gonna do it?”
'The heck? Larke you can't clean up your own mess?' asked Jillian in her thoughts, her face screwed. Larke was not as prim and proper as she portrayed herself to be.
'Geez, I need a new role model,' thought the snooping 10 year old as she decreased the zoom, getting a full frame of Larke giving a delusional Pierce another kiss on the cheek.
”Oh, I'll just call Mortimer when we're in the car,” Pierce replied, with a Cheshire grin offering his arm. “He won't mind.” Looping her arm through his muscular one, Larke and Pierce departed from the kitchen. Jillian, exhaling deeply, was in a state of disbelief as well as disgust. Not only did herbrother screw Troy Jefffies's, his supposed “friend's” girlfriend, he was going to ask the butler to clean up the mess he made? Really?
Hitting the “pause” icon, Jillian crouched down, sitting flat onto her butt. Her brother's vigilant efforts of winning over Larke Tanner had been annoying but seemingly it had come to a gross fruition. Many times his Teen Club peers and even a few online communities had told him to get over her, because she was meant to be with Troy, a guy he could only HOPE to emulate.
'Oh my dear brother...if only you knew of the hell I've endured because of you,' she thought, gazing at the paused video on her phone...