Make You Scream
“Taylor!” I shouted, then clamped a hand over my own mouth. I knew that was silly; it was highly unlikely anyone outside his room had heard and even if they had, it wasn’t like I could take the exclamation back.
He just grinned down at me. “Last time I checked.”
“But not the last time I checked!” I squealed, kicking uselessly at him, given that he had me all but pinned to the bed. “You were supposed to be Zac!”
“Funny how that happens,” Taylor replied, seemingly unfazed by the fact that I wanted nothing more than to beat the shit out of him. “But I suppose this does answer my question.”
“What was the question? Will I die at Georgina’s hands? Because the answer to that is ‘yes and soon.’”
He just grinned even more. “So feisty. Really living up to that redhead thing.”
“What. Was. The. Question.”
“You answered it yourself,” Taylor said. “You were expecting Zac to make you scream tonight. Well, I doubt his ability to make you scream on any given night, but that’s beside the point.”
“And what is the point?” I asked. I was still without a doubt drunk, but the pleasant buzz was giving way to a Taylor-induced headache.
“The point is, you were expecting the man in this costume to be my dear brother. And you were planning on getting seriously busy with him, and not for the first time.”
My stomach dropped as realization dawned, admittedly later than it should have. I could only blame the alcohol for the delay. “You… you did this on purpose.”
“I suppose so,” Taylor replied, as though the thought had just occurred to him as well. Brushing back a strand of my hair and leaning down as if to kiss me, he added, “But it got me the answer I was looking for. And the question was—did you fuck my brother?”
“The question is,” I squirmed away from him but didn’t get very far, his hot breath stll on my neck. “Why do you sound so jealous?”
“If you think I sound jealous, you obviously missed the hissy fit Zac threw when he found out about us.” He nipped at my neck before speaking again. “I don’t do jealous, Georgie. Fuck whoever you want; you’re not committed to me. What I do is honesty, and I think I’ve earned a little of it from you.”
I turned my head away from him to hide my burning cheeks, but that only gave him better access to my neck, which he bit so hard I was sure he would leave a mark.
“So tell me, honestly, did you fuck my brother?”
“Yes,” I breathed out.
Taylor pulled back, and I could practically hear his smirk as much as see it. “Now that’s better.”
“Is it?” I asked. “Because I don’t think you realize how much I hate you right now.”
“Why?” Taylor asked, something almost like real concern, even confusion, in his voice. “Because I made you admit it? Or, oh shit, are you actually dating him?”
“I’m not—I don’t know. That’s not the point. The point is how dirty of a fucking trick this was.” There were a few other points as well, but mostly I didn’t want to admit to Taylor, of all people, that I feared Zac was using me just for sex.
“Alright, I get it,” he said, pulling further back so that he was nearly sitting over me. “I know you love him. I’ve always know that. Everyone but Zac knows that. Sleeping with him means more to you, and sleeping with me is just sex. But whatever you feel, if you haven’t made a commitment to him, you’ve got no legitimate reason to feel guilty right now.”
“And you’ve got no legitimate moral compass.”
Taylor grinned as though he were proud of that fact. “All I’m saying is that you clearly didn’t intend to end up in bed with me. You’re not purposefully being unfaithful or whatever. But now that you’re here, why not let whatever happens, happen?”
Under any other circumstances, I would have had an argument for him. But right then, with alcohol in my system and Taylor leaning back down to press his lips to my neck and run his hand up my skirt, I had nothing.
“Come on, Georgie Girl,” he said, and the rest of my resolve melted away.
I hated him. I really did. But I couldn’t deny the way he made my body feel. Maybe it was that emotion that fueled the fairly explosive sexual chemistry between us. I didn’t know. All I knew was that the second Taylor nudged my panties to the side and slid a finger along my flesh, fireworks went off behind my eyelids.
I was going to die. I was certain of it. He had barely touched me at all and I was going to die. I bit my lip to keep from screaming as Taylor’s fingers continued their exploration. As if I needed the confirmation that he was a sick and twisted individual, Taylor pressed his lips to the aching spot on my neck that his teeth had all but broken, sucking it until my lip practically throbbed.
When he pulled back, I hated him even more. Taylor struggled comically to free himself from the expanses of his costume, and I was torn between laughing and just ripping the ridiculous thing off him myself.
Only Taylor, I thought to myself. Only Taylor Fucking Hanson could put me in such an absurd situation and somehow still turn me on. It wasn’t really fair when I thought about it that way. I loved Zac, I didn’t doubt that, but it seemed I had no resolve when it came to Taylor, either.
To my surprise, although I didn’t really know why it surprised me, he wore nothing but bright red boxer briefs underneath the costume. That left him much closer to naked than I was, although he seemed determined to change that as quickly as humanly possible. It was a good thing I wasn’t so fond of my costume, because Taylor nearly ripped it to shreds. I always thought of that as the sort of cliché that only happened in bad romance novels, but I could actually hear seams ripping as Taylor and I struggled in tandem to remove me from that stupid costume.
It was a huge relief to kick off those shoes and be rid of that slutty outfit, even if the reason why I was rid of it was even sluttier. I didn’t want to think about that, though. If I could just focus on how good his body felt pressed up against mine, I could almost ignore all my reason screaming at me to stop.
Almost. But almost was close enough right then.
Taylor kissed a wet trail down my neck and chest, peeling my bra off as he went and leaving sloppy kissed there, too. His movements were lazy but not unpracticed, and every single kiss brought me closer to the edge before he had even come close to his final destination.
When he did, it took every bit of strength I had not to scream out loud. I didn’t even want to think about how much practice Taylor had gotten in order to be that damn good, but he was that damn good. He seemed to magically know where to touch and what to do, like he knew my body inside and out—literally.
He didn’t stay between my legs nearly as long as I would have liked, but I couldn’t complain much when he jumped up and began to scramble out of his underwear. The view while he dug around in his dresser for a condom was pretty nice, too. It almost felt dirty to even admit that I found Taylor attractive, but it was obvious to anyone with eyes, and I would have to be really insane to sleep with him if I wasn’t at least physically attracted to him. And physically attracted to him I definitely was, I decided, as he turned back around to face me and made putting on the condom look like the most erotic thing I’d ever seen.
Once it was on, Taylor didn’t waste any more time before getting down to business. I didn’t really mind; the longer he drew things out and teased me, the more time I had to think about all the reasons why this was so wrong. But when Taylor climbed on top of me and nudged my legs apart, all those thoughts left my mind entirely.
We rolled around for what felt like hours, changing positions more times than I could count. It seemed like Taylor was trying to pull out all of his best tricks, as though he needed to impress me or something. But that was ridiculous. Yes, sex with him was good. Great, even. But nothing about him was how it was with Zac. Okay, sex with Zac might have been a little awkward, but in every other aspect, he was my best friend and the person I felt the most comfortable with out of everyone in the world. And the person who gave me so many emotions that went so much deeper than whatever this thing between Taylor and I was.
Whatever it was… right then it was nothing more than the most animalistic sex we’d ever had. At some point, I ended up bent over his bed, my hands grasping as the sheets until my knuckles turned white. Somehow, the sex seemed to amplify the effect of the alcohol and I felt even more drunk than I had since entering his bedroom. I pressed my head down against the mattress and just let that feeling overtake me, pleasure building alongside the tingle of drunkenness.
It wasn’t long before it overtook me completely. The mattress muffled my hearing some, but I didn’t need to hear Taylor’s moans to know he felt it, too. His fingernails dug into my hips and that was the last little push I needed to go the rest of the way over the edge. Taylor went right along with me, and collapsed onto my back a moment later, trembling.
“Fuck, Georgie…” He mumbled. It was far from the most eloquent thing he’d ever said, but I really didn’t care. I was fine with him not talking at all right then. The less he talked, the more I could forget that I was with Taylor at all.
Even thinking about trying to pretend he was Zac made me feel even dirtier. I suddenly just wanted to curl up and cry, but I didn’t think that was the best reaction to have right after sex.
Taylor stayed on top of me for what felt like forever before he finally pulled away. I couldn’t resist the urge to just curl up in his bed and pulled the covers up around me. Aside from passing out for a few minutes with Zac, I hadn’t slept in Taylor’s bed before and I wasn’t sure I wanted to start, but the alcohol still coursing through my bloodstream seemed to have other plans.
I must have actually passed out, because the next time I woke up I was wearing my underwear and a comfortable, oversized t-shirt. It felt like I was swimming in it, and I vaguely wondered where Taylor could have found something that felt like it was too big even for him.
Speaking of Taylor…
He was nowhere around. I had no clue what to make of that at all. As my senses adjusted to being awake again, I realized that he was sitting at his desk, silhouetted by the glow of his laptop.
“Tay?” I rasped, my voice so weak it was barely audible.
“Go back to sleep, Georgie Girl,” Taylor said. “The party can survive without us.”
I wasn’t sure about the logic in that, but I wasn’t sure about the logic in anything Taylor had ever said to me. Who was I to argue with him right then anyway?