I’m Carrigan Prudence Archibald and I gave up billions of dollars to save myself and my twin sister. I’m not perfect and I’ve done truly awful things, but I won’t cower away from my actions.
The door opens and I only pause for a second before I twist in my seat, dropping my feet to the floor, then I rise to my full height. Lifting my eyes, I smirk at the onlookers whose mouths fall open.
Gone is my poker straight, honey blonde hair, replaced with platinum blonde, textured waves that frame my face in a sexily disheveled way. Gone is the natural, flawless makeup my mom painstakingly taught me how to perfect, replaced with a nude lip and dark eye liner that makes my blue eyes seem twice as big. Gone is the conservative knee length skirt chosen to remind everyone that my virtue is intact, replaced with the mid-thigh version that Carson flipped up while he fucked me over a couch just a few days ago.
Each of my steps is purposeful and full of renewed confidence. I’m still me, only this version I like, this version I chose. This isn’t my parents’ image of me, this is who I’m deciding to be and it feels like with each step I take I shed more of the weight of shame and expectation that’s been holding me hostage.
Today I’m telling the all too familiar eyes on me that I won’t cower, that I’m no longer ashamed. For the first time since I gave up a fortune I feel like me again, and my classmates and everyone else who watches me go knows it too. The other students and their opinions aren’t important anymore. There’s only a handful of people at St Augustus that I want to see and it’s time to find them.
“Carrigan,” my sister says, her mouth falling open for a second before it curves into a wide smile. “I love the new look.”
“Thanks,” I say, lifting my hand to flip the hair that’s fallen into my eyes out of the way.
“Are you okay?” she asks, cautiously.
“Yeah, I am, I think. Could we talk?”
“Of course,” she says, her grin widening.
“Later, somewhere private, the others too.”
“Do you want to come to Arlo’s place?”
“No, how about Carson’s boat?” I suggest.
“What about my boat?” Carson asks from behind me.
My body tingles with excitement just from the sound of his voice, but I don’t turn to face him, not yet.
“Carrigan wants to talk to us all, she wondered if we could use your boat,” Tally says sweetly, a tinge of suspicious filling her voice.
“Is that what you want Carrigan?” Carson says, his voice low and gruff.
Inhaling sharply, I spin around to face him. “If that would be okay?”
His eyes rake over my hair and face, and one side of his mouth lifts up into a half smile. “Of course, you can have whatever you want, all you have to do is ask.”
My lips twitch up into a smile and I move without thought, launching myself at him and pressing my lips to his. Wrapping his arms around me, he binds me to him as he takes control of the kiss, devouring my lips, while his fingers tangle with my hair. Gripping me tightly, he holds me in place, showing me and anyone else who’s watching that I’m indisputably his.
“What the fuck?” I hear someone say, but we don’t even pause, kissing each other like we’ll never get another chance. Eventually Carson pulls away, not letting me go, but allowing me a tiny amount of room to breathe.
“Tally, I need to the key,” he snaps.
“What?” she asks slowly.
“The dark room, I need the key,” he says, not even trying to hide the need in his voice.
I try to turn to look at my sister but Carson claims my lips again stopping me.
“Thank you,” he says, barely tearing his mouth from mine long enough to speak, before he’s lifting me off the ground and we’re moving, his hands on the back of my thighs as he urges my legs around his waist.
Moments later we’re moving through the door to the dark room and my back hits the cushions of the couch as he follows me down, kissing me, his hands running over me like he never thought he’d get the chance to do it again.
“Carson,” I gasp, as his lips reach my neck, his teeth nipping at my skin.
“Are you mine Priss?” he demands.
“Carson.”
“I asked you a fucking question. Are you mine?” he snarls, saying each word slowly, between bites.
Am I his? I don’t even have to think about it, I’ve been his since the first time he called me Priss, from the first moment that he looked at me and saw who I could be. “Yes, yes,” I gasp.
Then we’re a blur of motion, fingers, lips, kisses, nips all mingled with my moans and cries and his groans of pleasure. He touches me like I’m special, like I’m important, like I’m his, and I worship him like he’s mine, like he’s the first, the last, and the only one in between and none of it’s a game, none of it’s a manipulation or a coercion. Everything between us is real and by the time we’re naked and panting, entwined together on the couch, nothing has ever felt more real and right and honest to me.
23
Carson
Her white blonde hair is rested against my chest, her tits heaving up and down as she pants, her body damp with sweat, soft and pliant against me.
Mine.
The word settles into my core and calms me. I didn’t realize how desperate I was for some claim on her, some sense of ownership, until now. She kissed me, right there in front of her sister and half the fucking school. She kissed me. I think that’s the first time she’s ever made the first move, to be the one to instigate things.
When I left the hotel the other night, I’d about convinced myself that she’d never speak to me again and
