Rhea Acklin dramatically stood at the top of the staircase. She wore a form-fitting green dress along with some nude heels that made her long legs look endless. Her makeup was immaculately done—not an eyelash out of place.
I, on the other hand, sat on the loveseat beside Sean. Silver silk enveloped my body in the form of a spaghetti-strapped dress that ended mid-thigh. On my eyes were the sharpest eyeliner wings I had ever drawn and on my lips was a deep shade of red smudge-proof lipstick—perfect for eating dinner and sucking dick, whether it be Sean's or Nick's. Hopefully the latter this time.
Wyatt and Sean have gotten acquainted within one hour since he'd arrived. The food was already cooked and only waited to be served once the principal arrives. Throughout my preparation, my head had paced around a field, gathering possibilities for the night. Still, something told me that the unexpected will happen
The doorbell rang and my heart leaped. Nikolas. After sharing a knowing look with Sean Caron, he offered his arm and we joined Mom in the foyer.
"Mr. Camillo!" she chirped when the grown man emerged from the white double doors.
How many times have I described Nikolas with an adjective that is commonly used for food? I don't care. Let me do it again. Nikolas looked scrumptious. Nikolas looked like a guilty pleasure—a big, fat, sweet peach cheesecake with a honey graham base. The type you'd wanna keep eating until you explode.
Nick Camillo in a black suit with a deep red button up and no tie was the picture I would love to engrave in my mind forever as both the homescreen and lockscreen. He looked even better than when I saw him at that Alexeev charity event. That night, he screamed fine and elegant, sexy and charming. Tonight? he screamed sinful.
His five o'clock shadow was there but shaped and his soft hair looked naturally laid back. Aside from his wedding ring, thick and stylish silver jewelry were on his middle finger and index finger. I couldn't get my eyes off him. He's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen and will ever see.
I swallowed. Is this what he was talking about? Him looking finer than wine only motivated me with my plans.
I felt Sean nudge my elbow. I realized that I stood dumbstruck for a solid minute. We walked up to Camillo who just finished greeting my mother and brother. They retreated to the kitchen.
"Mr. Camillo," Sean shook his hand.
"Ah, Mr. Caron," Nikolas smiled, flashing his perfect teeth, "I was told you'll be joining us," he patted Sean's back before turning to me.
"Ms. Martin," his eyes gleamed with charm and I found myself blinded.
His eyes trailed down my form and settled on my chest—particularly my cleavage, before being drawn back to my eyes. My cheeks were burning. It was rare. I haven't blushed in so long that I already forgot what it felt like.
What is this man doing to me?
"Nikolas," miraculously, my voice was loud and clear, "You clean up well."
"Thank you, Rose."
"Shall we?" I gestured to the kitchen and the three of us started towards it. I felt Nikolas's gaze penetrating from behind me.
He can penetrate behind me with something else later.
The food was already set on the table. No one sat at the head of the table. On the right were Wyatt and mom. On the other side was Sean, me, and Nikolas.
I was in a testosterone sandwich.
"Let's say grace?" Wyatt insisted, offering his hand to mom and the other to Sean. Rhea held hands with Nikolas across the table and I didn't miss how she kept grazing her thumb against the back of his hand.
Physical contact—even if it's as subtle as holding hands—with Nick and Sean at the same time threw my mind to the gutter. Wyatt led the prayer and we retracted hands once it was done.
"Let's eat!" mother announced, followed by the clutter of utensils.
Nikolas and I reached for the soup at the same time. The minimal contact had me overdrive. The tension was thick as we started eating. Every little touch stole my undivided attention which says a lot because a number of gourmet dishes sat on our dining table as competition. My bare leg was against Nikolas's and the other was against Sean's. I could melt right then. I exhaled shakily as I reached for a glass of water and drank.
"We can talk about the donation procedures after dinner, Mr. Camillo." My mother's eyes glinted with Lord-knows-what.
"Sure, Rhea," Nick sent her a charming smile which knocked even me off my feet, "Please, call me Nikolas."
Such a sexy name for a sexy man.
"Where would the donation be used for?" asked Wyatt who was the only one free from any tension within the room.
"A clean-up drive. One that covers five neighborhoods. It's a big donation, Rhea, and I can't thank you enough."
He winked. He winked at my mother.
"I can think of a number of ways you can thank me," replied mom and I heard my brother choke on his chicken dijon.
Nikolas chuckled and shook his head, "Tell me so I can get started on it," he joked.
Sean leaned towards my ear, "I think I lost my appetite."
Laughing, I squeezed his hand on the table. Rhea didn't miss it.
"How's the salmon, Sean?" she asked in a motherly tone that surprisingly suited her.
"Delicious, thank you," he mustered big smile.
"Tell us about yourself," said mother, "It's not everyday I meet one of my daughter's friends... or are you more than that?"
Sean and I gave each other a look. I could also feel Wyatt and Nick's stares boring a whole through my contour.
"Just friends," I breathed out, cutting whatever Sean was about to say.
Friends, huh? Like Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis?
"Captain of the Swimming Team and, uh, I plan on taking Psychology in college. Parents are French and Spanish. Our businesses are with transportation and heavy machinery."
"What a handful," commented Rhea.
"Mr. Caron's one of our best students," Nikolas added, "Always at the top of his class."
"Thank you, sir."
"But you made time for Rosa, my daughter," spoke my mother in a suggestive tone.
"Rose is a dear friend," he said.
"If you ever want to be more than a friend to her, then you have my blessing," she said after inspecting us side-by-side. Even I can't deny that we do look good together, "You two would make a good pair. Right, Wyatt?"
Wyatt laughed awkwardly and continued eating his vegetables.
"Mr. Camillo? What do you think?" asked Rhea.
Without missing a beat, he answered, "Yes. They would make a great couple. I encourage it, Mr. Caro—"
"We're right here," my voice was oddly loud and Sean reassuringly squeezed my hand.
Nikolas only chuckled, mischief behind his brown orbs, "Teenagers" he said, shaking his head.
"What type of teenager were you, Nikolas?" mom asked. Finally something interesting.
All eyes turned to him, "I was a varsity football player. Football as in football. The kicking type. Not the best but not the worst," he shrugged and stared into sweet nothing, reminiscing of his teenage years, "I was active in school but not to the point that everyone knew me. I used to wear glasses. I loved to read and I loved being quiet—still do. I wasn't a loner, but neither was I a social butterfly."
"In the middle, huh?" muttered Sean, his breath fanning my neck.
Nick nodded, "And I liked it like that."
"Any childhood sweethearts?" Wyatt teased, but Nikolas answered truthfully anyway, "Flings, but nothing serious until college."
"When did you meet Bianca?" I found myself asking. A few pairs of eyes looked curiously at me.
And to break my mom'd heart, "His wife," I told her.
Nikolas laid his utensils on the table as a solemn expression overtook his features—as if he was about to deliver ceremonious news, "Two years ago," he smiled shyly.
I guess Sean already knew because he nodded his head in agreement. The guilt that kept pushing into me in the time that I've been doing my sick plan shrunk. And here I thought they've known each other for much longer. Nick's look showed that he didn't want me getting a hold of that fact. Instead of pushing further, I strayed the topic away from him. For now.
"How about you, Wyatt?" I whined, "When are you getting married?"
Wyatt paused with a spoonful of pasta shoved into his mouth, "Mhng?"
"Yes, you," I rolled my eyes. Despite being a CEO of a company that's sickly expensive, the man was still a disgusting teenage boy by heart.
He devoured the pasta with a slurp and chewed, swallowed, then wiped his mouth, "I don't know," he shrugged, "Haven't met the one yet," he cringed at his own choice of words.
"I have friends with daughters your age. Maybe I can introduce you to some," spoke Rhea.
"Maybe," he muttered as he drank his wine.
A maid entered bearing another serving of spiced ribs and I helped myself to some. Gingerly, Sean's fingers laid on my bare thigh, inching up. He knew that I love my games. If I wasn't so caught up with Mr. Camillo, I would've given him a chance at a relationship, not that I mind whatever he have already—casual, fun, noncommittal—I like it.
The ghost of a smile was on his face as I gazed at him sidewards. He continued eating with his left hand as his right dove into the rift of my thighs.
No underwear. He paused for a second at the discovery before the corner of his lips twitched up. Wyatt and Nikolas were engrossed in a discussion about finance and somewhere along the way, my mother cut in.
Sean slipped two fingers in without warning. His was hands cupped my sex, the edge of his palm touching my clit. My back arched and I focused on my breathing. I looked around the table to see that mom and Wyatt were too deep in conversation to notice anything around them. Nick, on the other hand?
His eyes watched my face, jaw tense and gaze fierce. He knew exactly what was happening.
Sean's fingers were magical. He found that spot and rubbed it furiously, bringing me close to the brink of pleasure. My thighs clenched together, squeezing his hand, yet it did nothing to slow him.
Camillo and I stared each other down, the sound of my family's conversation and Sean's soft clutter of metal against ceramics in the background. My left hand toyed with the fork on the table as I let my right go underneath. I let my fingers grasp Nick's crotch, feeling him twitch underneath the fabric of his suit. I palmed his thickness as Sean's fingers inside me continued at a profound pace.
Instead of putting my hand away, Nikolas put his hand on top of it and took control of the stroking. His eyes darkened and his lips parted as he watched me get pleasured by Sean.
Fuck. Fuck. While Sean was busy with me, I was busy with Nikolas. The sensuality of it all is what it took for me to reach a pattern of pulses below.
I shuddered. My legs twitched and my knee bounced up, hitting the table and bringing all attention to me.
I hissed, "Ant bit my foot," I laughed it off and my family seemed to believe me, resuming their talk.
"Excuse me, I have to use the powder room," I straightened my dress as I stood up, still wet and high from my orgasm. Once I was in the powder room connected to the living room, I shut the door behind me and leaned my back against it.
What the fuck just happened?
In the mirror, the woman before me looked flushed. I ran my fingers through my hair, fixing the stray strands that escaped my sectioned curls. Despite already getting off, I was still throbbing and still ready for whatever sexual acts available to bring me to an orgasm.
There was a knock on the door as I hastily reapplied my lipstick.
"Who is it?" I asked but was answered with silence.
"Who's there?" I asked again. Nothing.
I opened the door and Nikolas stormed in, locking the door behind him. I didn't have time to process his arrival. His large frame stalked towards me and pinned me against the counter.
"What was that?" his breathing was heavy and ragged. His erection pushed against my belly and I involuntarily ground against it.
"What was what?" my voice came out small. Get a grip, Rosa girl.
"I should ask you the fucking same," I added.
I was about to speak again when the rest of the sentence died in my throat when Mr. Camillo turned me around so that I was facing our reflection in the mirror. His throbbing length dug in between my ass as the cold marble of the counter dug against my stomach.
"Sean," he said in a calm voice, "He had his hands on you," our eyes locked in the mirror. I looked tiny in front of him—his large frame towering over mine, chest heaving up and down, fingers grasping my sides.
I felt my knees go weak and I would've became a puddle in the ground if he weren't holding me up.
"Tell me," he laid his chin on my shoulder, "Are you playing him too? What's his role here, Rosaleen?"
"On the contrary, we really are good friends," I put my hands on my neck, "Friends who fuck sometimes. He knows how to make me tick."
With a groan from the back of his throat, he gripped my wrists and held my hands to my sides. I chuckled.
"Jealous?" I joked.
"Don't be ridiculous," his fingers buried themselves in my skin, "I just hate being played with."
"Hypocrite," I whispered with a raise of my brow.
His hands roughly gripped my hair and tilted my head to the side slightly.
His soft lips teased my sensitive skin. "Do you know what I had planned tonight, hm?" his fingers traced the spot just below my breasts, brushing against the wires of my push-up bra.
"What?" I breathed out, watching the scene we were making in the mirror.
No porn could ever compare to this.
"I wanted to make you beg," he told me, now getting a little bold. He ground his bulge against me and I was putty in his hands, "I wanted to make you feel what you make me feel every time you come near me with your little skirts and touchy hands."
To my what-in-the-fuck, he kissed my neck to my shoulder, making me whimper, "Just like this..." Camillo cupped my sex, the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of my dress overwhelming me.
"Then?" I breathed out after he started rubbing.
"Watch," he said and my eyes snapped back to the mirror. His one hand pulled my dress up, revealing me bare. Nikolas bunched up the fabric as his other hand played with me.
"Fuck," I hissed at the contact. Fucking finally. I heard him groan appreciatively when I reached behind me to stroke him under his pants.
He retracted his hand and brought his fingers to my lips. I licked them and opened my mouth. We both watched in the mirror as I sucked on his fingers. We both watched when he brought them back inside me, pumped in and out, drawing soft moans from my mouth.
"Then," his voice shot thrill down to my core, "I'll leave you."
He pulled his fingers away and sucked on my shoulder. The man started to pull away.
"I'll leave with a hard-on," was my lousy attempt to make him continue.
"I'll go home and fuck my wife with you knowing that it could've been you, but that I would have never let you," he licked his fingers clean. My jaw dropped.
"Because at the end of the day, Rose," he tipped my chin up, "I'm married and you're nothing but a desperate little girl in need of a married man's attention."
He pulled away and started adjusting himself in the mirror—fixing his collar, fixing his hair, washing his hands.
"I love Bianca. Stop your little tricks, Rose. The most you'll get from me is frustration. I'm already owned and I plan to stay owned," he left.
Dessert was on the table when I got back which was a bummer because I wanted to stress-eat some more chicken dijon.
The whole table was laughing at something I missed as I slipped back into my chair. A variety of pastries were on the surface of the large oak table and I helped myself to a strawberry croissant.
"What did I miss?" I asked.
"Mom was telling us the story of when you weren't allowed to go to that Maroon 5 meet and greet," said Wyatt.
Rhea sighed, "Ah, Rose," she squeezed Camillo's hand on the table. The same one that's been inside me minutes ago, "Always a pain in the rump."
I looked at Camillo and I hated how I couldn't get him. I hated my mother's usage of me for content too. I scoffed, "And how would you know? You're never here."
I glared at the bread on my plate as the table silenced, "You left us, remember? And now you waltz back into our lives because your son," a pointed look at Wyatt, "has money—the one thing that matters to you."
"Rosa—"
"Don't call me that," I muttered. My mood went from a hundred to zero all because of Camillo. I knew that I was lashing out on my family, but it's not anything I haven't thought of already doing within the past week, "Stop trying to be a mom because you can never be one. At least not to me," my fists clenched and unclenched at my sides, "I hope Wyatt comes to his senses and realizes that you deserve no second chance," I stood up but Wyatt grabbed my hand
"Let go, Wyatt, please," my teeth were clenched so hard I worried that they'd crack. I glared at Wyatt, but controlled myself, not wanting to say any bad thoughts to him. Once he did let go, I scampered to my room and locked the door behind me.
I cursed the stupid night.
Stupid Rhea Acklin.
Stupid Nikolas Camillo.
Stupid... stupid me
❗️READ❗️
I will be uploading 1-3 chapters a week, mainly on weekends. But if you can't wait, you may subscribe to my Patreon by tapping the link in my bio. The tier for Resisting Rosaleen costs $6. The story is already completed there. It totals 51 chapters.
❗️WARNING❗️
this story contains mature themes: explicit sexual content, assault, emotional distress, mentions of alcohol and drugs, psychological triggers. yes there is harassment, no im not encouraging it. you'll see here that there will be consequences to selfish and immoral actions. again, read at your own risk.
❗️DISCLAIMER❗️
my characters do dumb shit. i do not encourage anyone to do the dumb shit that you're about to read. we know what's right and wrong. the wrongs here are for the plot's sake ofc, doesn't mean u have to do it too tf. some of yall got me fucked up in the DMs like wym u wanna seduce ur teacher.