A Scotch for the Road - Part 15

[flighty_dreams]

TITLE: A Scotch for the Road - Part 15
AUTHOR: flighty_dreams
WARNINGS: Slavefic. NC-17.  F/m.
WORD COUNT: 5,370 (this chapter)/ story so far (over 40K)
SUMMARY: A slave enduring a party encounters more than he bargained for.
NOTES: Thanks to aurila for her assistance.
FEEDBACK: Always welcome, even if it's just to say that you read it.

 

Part Fifteen

 

Brett was the only man in the room. Literally.

Still irritated by her mom’s call yesterday, and livid over Donovan’s cruelty, Jenna had decided to bring him to her cousin’s bridal shower. She wasn’t ashamed of him, and hiding him away would only foster the insecurities Donovan had created. Besides, she hated these wedding-related affairs, and the afternoon would be even more tedious without Brett there.

But she regretted choosing this shower as their first social outing. An event that would only have family and friends of Teresa attending had seemed harmless enough. And with the party being held at Teresa’s parents’ house, she’d been comfortable bringing Brett because she knew he wouldn’t be the only slave there. Samuel and Penelope Crawford lived in a mansion as expansively decorated and staffed as Jenna’s childhood home. Considering Penelope was her mother’s sister, it made sense.

However, she hadn’t realized until they arrived that the household staff her aunt was using for this party were all female. She supposed it made some sense, since all the guests were female, but it created unwanted complications. They’d arrived early, before most of the other guests, but Brett’s presence had already drawn some stares.

“Odd choice to bring a male slave to a bridal shower,” her great aunt Rosemary commented, a glint in her eye as she studied Brett, “unless you’re punishing him for something.”

Jenna laughed and pointed at the pile of party favors arranged on one of the tables along the wall. “I only have the one slave, I’m afraid, and I needed help carrying those.”

“Ah, someone roped you in to bring the chocolates, did they?”

Jenna leaned in close as if it were a big secret. “My mother.”

“Of course,” Rosemary said, her lips twitching. She moved on a minute later, and Jenna turned to Brett, who was standing in the proper position, a pace behind her right shoulder.

For his ears only, she asked, “You all right?”

He nodded, but she could see the tension in his stance. When she’d proposed he come with her this morning, he’d seemed uneasy but hadn’t protested—of course. Questioning him had revealed the reasons for his hesitation.

“What about not antagonizing your mother, Mistress?” he’d asked, wiping a dish that was already dry.

“I won’t leave you at home simply because your presence will upset my mother. She’ll have to learn to deal with it.”

“But being seen with you… Donovan could…” he hesitated, biting his lip.

“It’s a bridal shower. There’s no way he’ll be there, and I doubt anyone would report your presence to him.” Who had brought what slave, unless it was something scandalous like a married woman bringing a handsome male slave and flaunting his role in her bedroom before her husband’s friends, was hardly considered a worthwhile topic.

“But even if someone did,” she added, “I am not ashamed to be seen with you.”

He’d smiled that shy, bittersweet little smile of his, and she’d left it at that.

Her mother was among those here already, but she’d been too busy bickering with her sister over the final details to spare Jenna more than a brief glower when she spotted Brett.

Glancing towards the doorway, Jenna saw several more people enter the reception room. With some relief, she noticed that one of the elderly matrons had an older male slave attending her. Two was better than one, at least.

Three of Teresa’s friends were already here, and Jenna straightened as she saw them heading towards her. Oh joy.

“Jenna, it’s been a while!” Elena said, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. Jenna didn’t care for the other two, but Elena Mendoza was okay.

The four of them made small talk for several minutes, before Elena looked over at Brett. “Who’s this? He’s new.”

Brett was suddenly the focus of their little circle’s attention. He looked especially good today; it was a shame he’d be standing behind her for a good portion of this party. The black slacks she’d bought him the other day fit him just right, and his dark blue shirt outlined his shoulders nicely. His hair was gelled and brushed back, out of its usual part. Perhaps it was best he was out of sight; Brett was always a temptation, even rumpled and disheveled. Maybe especially when he was rumpled and disheveled. But him dressed up carried a special draw of its own.

“This is Brett,” she told them. She stifled the temptation to give Brett their names in return; the outrage on Bianca and her bitchy cohort’s faces at being introduced to a slave would’ve been delightful.

“He belongs to you, Jenna?” Elena asked, her gaze admiring. “He’s a handsome one.”

Elena kept her distance, but the other two came closer, touching him.

“Oh, he has such pretty hair.”

“Never mind the hair, feel his arms.”

Jenna repressed the urge to drag them away from Brett. Casual touching of other people’s slaves was socially acceptable, so they had no reason to suspect that Jenna took issue with their behavior. But she did, especially as she noted Brett’s wooden stance and blank expression. It was too reminiscent of how he’d looked the night she’d found him again, his personality smothered by unwelcome duty. He kept his gaze lowered, unmoving beneath their hands. Other people had touched him when they’d been together years earlier, and while the social convention had irritated her then, it was nothing to what she felt now.

Bianca, the taller girl, touched his chin. “He seems sweet.”

“Thanks,” Jenna forced out in reply. She struggled to remember the name of the shorter one’s personal slave. Anything to draw their attention away from Brett. “You didn’t bring Tami? Tabitha?”

“Tamara,” the girl corrected, letting go of Brett. Her lips made a moue of displeasure. “She was a bad girl yesterday, so she’s being punished.”

Jenna was afraid to ask—both what Tamara had done, and what her punishment was.

Unfortunately, Bianca had no such hesitation. “Oh? What happened?”

“Careless, useless slave,” the girl said, shaking her head. “First she ruined my dress, and then she behaved poorly.” She leaned in close to whisper, since women didn’t often speak of such things in public. “In bed. She wasn’t pleasing.”

Jenna tried her best to show nothing, although she wondered if Tamara’s ‘poor performance’ had been due to fear of the punishment looming for the first infraction.

The girl sighed. “So I had to beat her twice as much, and give her extra chores to do. It’ll take her days to finish them all, but maybe by then she’ll learn not to drop things.”

Bianca nodded in agreement. “They react best to a firm hand.”

Jenna turned away, unsure if she’d successfully concealed her anger. Yeah, she really didn’t like these two. Now if only she had an excuse to get away from them…

Jenna spotted the answer to her problem over Elena’s shoulder. “Look, Teresa’s arrived.”

Chattering excitedly, the three of them went to greet her while Jenna opted to stay behind. She and Brett both breathed sighs of relief.

“Sorry,” she said, pitching her voice low. “It’s been so long I’d forgotten about people doing that.”

A tired smile curved his lips. “It’s okay, Mistress. It’s not anything new.”

“No,” she said, briefly touching his arm, “but that doesn’t mean we have to like it.”

He nodded in response. While she’d seen some personal slaves preen under such praise and attention, her Brett wasn’t vain. No, she thought, remembering the night before, he definitely wasn’t vain.

The crowd around Teresa hadn’t dissipated much, but Jenna figured she ought to say hello. She had Brett stay outside the cluster of people, deciding it would be easier that way. Even so, it still took several minutes to navigate successfully to the center of the crowd.

Teresa looked lovely, wearing a pink dress that shined against her golden skin, and her dark hair in a riot of curls, falling to her shoulders.

“Jenna, glad you could make it,” Teresa said, smiling.

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss this.” She was happy for her cousin; she’d found a good man. Jenna just hated the pointed reminders these functions provided to her family that she hadn’t married yet.

They were only able to speak briefly before Teresa’s attention was diverted elsewhere. Jenna didn’t mind; more people were arriving that her cousin had to greet. And she’d left Brett by himself.

Slipping back through the crowd, she saw that he wasn’t alone anymore.

“Stacy,” she said as she approached them, keeping her expression even. “I didn’t see you come in.”

Her sister turned away from undressing Brett with her eyes to look at her. A smile played at her mouth as she glanced back at Brett. “I bet you didn’t.”

Jenna refused to rise to her bait, standing quietly as Brett took the opportunity to move into his customary place behind her.

“So I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since I heard the news,” Stacy said, cocking her head. “Is having him back worth it? I haven’t seen Mom and Dad so pissed off since the last time you fought over him.”

Crossing her arms, Jenna gave her sister a scathing look. Stacy had always been the careless, stubborn one that acted without thinking, to their Mom’s anger and dismay. “Since when do you care about them being pissed?”

“You’re right, I never did, but you do. You were always the angelic child, while Vic and I were the troublemakers.” A bit of resentment tinged her voice.

Jenna had never set out to get that reputation among them. She’d just been less of an idiot than her siblings. Rolling her eyes, she said, “Because you never did stupid things. Clearly your label of troublemaker is undeserved.”

Her sister laughed. That was a good thing about her; her flighty nature made it hard for her to stay angry with anyone. “Okay, I admit there might be some truth to it,” she said, grinning. “But your halo got tarnished four years ago, and now you’re messing it up again.”

Jenna sighed. Her sister would think of it that way. “Have you ever considered that it might be tiring living up to these ‘angelic’ expectations?”

“Yeah, I’m sure it is,” Stacy said, before adding with rarely shown perception, “And the reaction is a lot worse when you do mess up. The greater the height, the longer the fall and all that. All the more motivation to behave and end up trapped in that role.”

“Exactly,” Jenna said, surprised.

“Which makes you choosing to buy Brett, knowing how upset Mom and Dad would be, all the more interesting.” Stacy leaned in closer, and a moment later Jenna was glad she’d lowered her voice. “Before I was dumb enough to believe it was about love. But now I know what it really is. He’s damn good in bed, isn’t he?”

“Stacy,” Jenna growled, giving her best I’m-going-to-kill-my-baby-sister look. More than her sister’s bluntness, the fact that Stacy believed Brett couldn’t possibly have any worth beyond the bedroom infuriated her.

Too bad her sister had long ago become immune to such looks. “Hah, I knew it!” she said, laughing. “Come on, you can tell me. How does he perform?”

“That is no business of yours.” Jenna’s voice was glacial now. Her relationship with Brett was private.

Her sister shook her head in exasperation. “You always were sensitive about him. I was just curious.”

“I’m sure your sister wouldn’t mind letting you try him out.”

The obnoxious words came from her mother, who had snuck up behind them. For a second Jenna stared at her aghast, unable to understand how the woman could be so blind.

“Mother, you do not speak for me.”

Unfortunately, while frosty words from her could make men quiver in a boardroom, her mother had nerves of steel. “Jenna, your sister expressed an interest in borrowing him.”

That’s a bit of a stretch, Jenna thought, her mouth firming.

“It’s good manners for you to offer use of him to her,” her mother continued.

The full force of her glare made little dent in her mother’s armor, but she tried anyway. “We’re not little girls anymore, required to share.”

Stacy sent her a supportive look; there was nothing like facing off against their parents to create solidarity between them. “She’s right, Mom. It’s fine.” She moved off into the crowd before their mother could continue to use her against Jenna.

She caught her mother’s gaze and held it. “Do not try that again.”

“I’m trying to save you from yourself, Jenna,” her mom said, shaking her head.

“I’m an adult. I make my own decisions. Respect them.”

“I do,” her mom insisted, “but this one is wrong, and dangerous to you.”

“Right or wrong, it’s my choice to make.” Jenna turned on her heel and left, Brett following in her wake. Getting the last word gave her some satisfaction, but she didn’t fool herself into thinking that her mother had been convinced. She was too overprotective to let it go.

There were glasses of champagne and appetizers being carried around the room on trays by some of the house staff; Jenna grabbed a glass when a slave passed near her. She downed half of it immediately. It was a waste of such sweet, high-quality champagne, but she needed the drink to steady herself.

A few couches were arranged along the back wall of the room, and Jenna sat down on one of them. Kneeling at her feet, she noticed Brett’s shoulders were tense again. The conversations with her sister and mother couldn’t have been pleasant for him. She stroked his shoulder in reassurance and then held the glass out to him. “Want some?”

He hesitated for only a moment before taking it from her. While it wasn’t that common for owners to share drinks with their personal slaves in public, it didn’t draw attention either. “Thank you, Mistress.”

His first sip was experimental; he tilted his head as he explored the taste. By the third sip she could feel him slowly relax against her leg, the drink a welcome distraction from the stress of the party. Ever cautious and courteous though, he stopped after the third one, offering the glass back to her. A third of the champagne still remained.

She took it back from him and had some more. Leaving a little still in the glass, she passed it back to him. “You can have the rest.” Eyeing the bustle of people around the room, including the servers, she noted that there was plenty more.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Looking out at the growing crowd, she noted that almost all of the guests had arrived now. And about a third of them had brought personal slaves to attend them, who held their drinks or appetizers as they chatted with the people around them.

She let Brett finish the champagne and put the glass down on the floor beside him before saying quietly, “I’m sorry. I’m sure it wasn’t comfortable listening to all that talk.”

He leaned harder against her leg. “I know it’s not easy for you either, Mistress.”

“No, but we can’t run away from it. Better to face it head on. Eventually my family will have to get used to the situation.” She doubted her mother would ever accept her decision, but giving up on trying to separate them would be progress. “I’m sorry you’re forced to endure this ugliness in the meantime.”

His hand wrapped around her ankle, stroking and then gently squeezing it before letting go. It’s okay.

She gazed down at him with affection, brushing her fingers through his hair. Unfortunately, as much as she might wish to avoid her family or the endless wedding chatter, they couldn’t linger in a corner forever. Hiding would imply weakness. Across the room she could see slaves carrying in heavily laden platters. “Let’s go see what food they’ve got.”

Thankfully it was a buffet style lunch, so the meal wouldn’t be dragged out. There were tables set up on one half of the room, with open seating. People began shifting towards the area where the food was arriving.

Teresa was served first of course, and she invited all her bridesmaids to join her at one of the tables. Jenna hid her reluctance; she’d hoped to acquire a plate of food and find a place to sit away from the worst of the crowd. Besides that being easier on Brett, she’d also prefer to avoid getting trapped into lunch conversation with someone she didn’t like. Invariably at functions like this, someone would ask her when she was getting married. As she’d grown older she’d come to hate showers and weddings more and more, because of the constant questions regarding when it would be her turn to settle down. And if she was eating with the person asking, she’d be unable to walk away from the awkward topic. But while she could ignore her mother giving her grief about being anti-social, she couldn’t be rude to her cousin.

So Jenna sat with Teresa and the other bridesmaids, including her sister and Elena, who was the maid of honor. She debated whether to send Brett off to ask the other slaves where he could get his own food, or to keep him with her, and decided on the latter. Because this was their first social outing since their reunion, she didn’t feel comfortable sending him off on his own. Especially when she’d still only seen three men total at this party.

And that disparity still drew some unwanted attention.

“What’s his name?” the girl seated to her right asked, reaching out to touch his hair. Brett was kneeling between their chairs.

“Brett,” she said, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Teresa’s head jerk up. Her cousin leaned to one side to get a better view of him, a look of recognition on her face. Considering Derrick was her brother, it made sense that she’d remember him. She looked at Jenna, a thoughtful expression on her face, but said nothing.

“I’d love to buy a young male,” the girl beside her was saying, “but my parents would never allow it.” Her lips formed into a pout as she continued to touch Brett. The girl was Teresa’s younger cousin from her father’s side, Jenna remembered, between thoughts of forcibly removing her hand. “They’d throw a fit,” she continued obliviously, “and say I need to be finding a husband, not playing around with a slave.”

A moment later the girl straightened, her hand dropping away from Brett as she focused on Jenna. “How’d you manage it? Isn’t your family pressuring you to get married?”

Jenna tensed at the question. The girl looked about twenty. “At some point you need to realize that you can’t let your parents run your life for you.”

Jenna ignored the scoff from her sister, who was seated to her left. She hoped this girl learned that lesson more easily than she had. For her, it had taken losing Brett. Wanting an excuse to let her eyes linger on him, she offered him a piece of cheese, his lips brushing her fingers as he took it from her. It was a pleasant feeling that bore repeating.

“So I should just do what I want?” the girl asked, her mouth twisting wryly. “I’ve been trying that since I was fifteen, but it doesn’t seem to work.”

That startled a laugh out of Jenna. “That’s not what I mean.”

Before the girl could question her further, the neighbor on her other side asked her about classes. Left alone for the moment, Jenna continued eating, feeding more of her food to Brett.

I’ll have to do this again when we’re at home, she told herself, delighted by the gentle caresses of his mouth against her fingers. Sensing her enjoyment, he grew bolder, his tongue rubbing against her skin, licking up the flavors of food and her.

God, he was so eager to please. The intimate places of her body hummed, clamoring for more. Maybe she could slip away somewhere private with him, no one would know-

An elbow to her side made her jump, her knee bumping the table. Stacy was holding a napkin up to her mouth, concealing her laughter with only partial success. Jenna glared at her for a second, her face heating as she glanced around the table. Elena and Teresa had halted their conversation, champagne glasses still in hand. Curious, they looked between her and Stacy, probably thinking her sister had teased her about something.

Which became true enough. “I was so right,” Stacy whispered, laughter still in her voice. “You are totally hot for him.”

“Shut. Up,” Jenna said under her breath, in the furious tone of all tormented older sisters. There might be no point in denying her desire for Brett to Stacy, but that didn’t mean she wanted to talk about it. At least everyone else’s attention shifted away from them a moment later.

When it looked like her sister thankfully wasn’t going to say more, she stole a glimpse at Brett. He seemed fine, maybe even a little amused, and she wondered how much he’d overheard.

Teresa rose from her seat then, walking over to them. “I see you two are getting along as great as always.” Stacy made a face at her; Jenna just rolled her eyes.

Her cousin’s gaze strayed to Brett, and she looked at him for a long moment before leaning down to say quietly, “Been a long time. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you, miss.” He spoke as softly as she had.

Jenna listened with unease. She didn’t know how much Derrick had told his sister about the situation with Brett. Teresa smiled at her though, and said, “You missed him, hm? I only saw you together a couple of times, but you seemed fond of him.”

“Yeah,” Jenna said, “I saw him again at a party, and I just…” She shrugged instead of finishing. Let Teresa think what she would.

For once she was glad for the competitive relationship between her mother and her aunt. It meant that Serena Vanlean-Warren would rather stab herself than reveal to her sister that her eldest daughter had done anything so scandalous as have feelings for a slave. Of course, if Donovan did turn out to be a problem, everyone would find out. Despite her brave words to Brett, she knew that wasn’t something she’d be able to brush off easily. But she’d be damned if she showed it; she didn’t want him feeling guilty for putting her in that position.

“Teresa,” her aunt said then, appearing next to her daughter. “It’s time to open your gifts.”

Aunt Penelope didn’t spare Brett a glance. Jenna wondered if she would recognize him even if she had. She had to have seen him with Derrick a few times at least, and she must’ve inspected Brett before giving him to her son. But her aunt was a worse snob than her sister; unless they were personally useful to her, slaves weren’t worth remembering.

Soon Teresa was seated in a chair decorated with white ribbons, the gifts brought to a table near her and neatly piled. A circle of chairs had been arranged so that about half the guests could sit, while the others stood behind them, watching the proceedings. Jenna gave up her bridesmaid seat to Aunt Rosemary, who smiled gratefully.

She snatched another drink from a tray, noting she wasn’t the only one doing so. In fact the champagne had been flowing freely today, the sounds of tipsy laughter echoing from different parts of the room now. People seemed much more entertained watching Teresa open her gifts than they should have been, in Jenna’s opinion. It was a long, drawn out process. Except when Teresa opened Jenna’s gift—a pair of monogrammed towels—she didn’t care much what other people had gotten her cousin.

At least Teresa hadn’t agreed to the silly games some people arranged to keep people ‘amused’ during the gift-opening. Jenna had always found those activities insipid—and insulting, since some of them seemed specifically designed to embarrass single people. As if not having anything to say when asked to give ‘the first song you danced to at your wedding’ would make her feel terrible enough to go out and marry the first available man she could find.

She glanced back at Brett. Who needed a husband?

The girl who had admired Brett during lunch—Madelyn, Jenna finally remembered her name was—sidled up next to her. Jenna stifled her irritation. More chatter followed, mostly complaints about her parents that Jenna did her best to nod at and tune out.

Aunt Penelope paused on her way back to Teresa—what she’d gone to do Jenna had missed over Madelyn’s whining. She did wish her aunt hadn’t noticed Brett though. The woman’s brows furrowed as she obviously tried to recall why he looked familiar to her. Shrugging after a moment, she focused on Jenna and said in that light tone of hers that wasn’t joking at all, “I suppose that’s one way to find a man.”

Bristling at the insult, Jenna said, “From what I heard, you had some trouble doing so.” Six years younger than her sister, Serena had still married before her.

Her aunt stiffened. “And just when will we be having a bridal shower for you?” she asked with faux sweetness.

“I don’t need a wedding to feel validated,” Jenna said, hiding how much the barb bothered her. And here she’d been thinking she might escape this event mostly unscathed from ‘when are you getting married’ verbal digs. She was so tired of them.

Aunt Penelope looked at her blankly, not understanding her words. Jenna took it as another sign of the wedding obsession-insanity that infected the women of her society. Thankfully, a moment later a call from Teresa distracted her aunt from continuing the argument.

After all the gifts had been opened, Elena walked to the center of the circle of chairs, a fresh glass of champagne in her hand. It was traditional for the maid of honor to give a toast now and then declare the Bride’s Dare. While the shower games were only done by a minority of people, Jenna had yet to go to a shower that didn’t include the dare.

Usually they were stupid things: do something embarrassing on video, wear something silly, or whatever else the maid of honor came up with. Supposedly it was an opportunity for the bride to do something reckless or crazy before settling down to act sensibly after marriage. Jenna snorted inwardly. As if people didn’t continue to do ridiculous things after marriage.

Elena went on to make a very nice toast, speaking of Teresa and their friendship and how thrilled Elena was for her. It was nice and heartfelt although a tad overlong.

Afterwards Teresa’s mother stood up and gave a toast of her own that Jenna did her best to ignore. The gloating look on Penelope’s face was bad enough without listening to her smug words. If she was this bad at the shower, Jenna knew she’d better start bracing herself now for her aunt’s ‘triumph’ at the wedding itself.

After a third toast given by Jenna’s mother—Serena Vanlean-Warren couldn’t let her sister’s bragging go unanswered, although she was classier about it at least—the guests’ attention focused back on Elena, who had moved to the center of the circle again.

“All right,” she said with a grin, her cheeks flushed, “I think it’s time for the Bride’s Dare, don’t you?”

There were a number of cheers in the affirmative from around the room. Meanwhile, Teresa was shaking her head, smiling even through her exasperation.

Elena fastened her gaze on the bride, pausing for effect before declaring, “I dare you to kiss one of the slaves!”

Teresa blushed, collecting herself before asking, “Do I at least get to pick which one?”

While Elena deliberated, the other guests called out their differing opinions. Jenna remained silent, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“You can choose the gender,” Elena told her at last.

Teresa pursed her lips. “Male,” she said with a wink, “might as well enjoy my last weeks of freedom.”

Shit. Jenna could understand the sentiment—her husband would surely frown on Teresa consorting with male slaves after they married—but the two other males present were both over fifty. It was no mystery who’d get picked for this. And while she was fond of her cousin, she certainly didn’t want her kissing Brett.

It took a minute for the others to sort out who Teresa’s options were, but they came to the same conclusion Jenna already had. Several women murmured over Brett’s finer features, and he once again had to suffer the touch of strangers’ hands. That mask was back on his face, his eyes flicking to her before lowering again. It was enough for her to catch the emotion in them though: resignation rather than desperation.

Elena approached her, asking quietly, “You don’t mind, do you, Jenna?”

Feeling the collective gazes of everyone in the room on her, and faced with Elena’s questioning look, Jenna weighed her options. If they’d suggested she let Teresa borrow Brett for the night, as her mother had tried with her sister earlier, she wouldn’t have hesitated to cause a scene. But should she really refuse in front of all these people over a kiss?

Teresa stepped up beside Elena, speaking in a near whisper. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, Jenna. I didn’t realize there were so few males present. I can have some of the other house slaves brought in.”

Looking at her cousin, who so obviously regretted placing this pressure upon her, something in Jenna relaxed. This was Teresa, who she’d known all her life, who was about to get married. It wasn’t like anything else was going to happen. This was a Bride’s Dare; it didn’t mean anything. Sure she hated to comply, especially for one of the ridiculous wedding traditions that she loathed, but it wasn’t worth embarrassing both of them. She’d look like a petulant child, and Brett would become the target of nasty speculation.

“Brett,” she said, beckoning him forward. The women around him let him go, so he could close the few steps separating them. She touched his chin, drawing his gaze up to hers. His eyes were calm, awaiting whatever decision she made. She relaxed further. If she’d seen panic, she would’ve refused, despite whatever outcry would’ve followed. A large part of her still wanted to refuse, just on principle, but she choked the urge down.

Jenna squeezed his arm before stepping aside. “Go ahead.”

Elena moved back too, leaving Brett and Teresa within the circle of chairs. A light blush tinted Teresa’s cheeks again—she’d never been the type to sleep around, and wasn’t very experienced. Brett moved tentatively at first, slowly closing the gap between them. As their lips touched, gently exploring each other, Jenna struggled to keep her expression even—and to suppress the instinct to pull them apart.

The timid kiss suddenly changed, Brett teasing her cousin’s lips open and kissing her with as much passion as he’d ever displayed with Jenna. One hand slid into her cousin’s hair, and the other around her waist as Teresa responded just as fervently. The kiss seemed to go on forever, while Jenna stood frozen and appalled, unable to look away. She barely registered the cheers of some of the women around her. They finally pulled apart, revealing a wide-eyed, flushed Teresa. Even Brett seemed breathless, and Jenna forcibly unclenched her fists, not wanting anyone to catch her reaction.

Of course her mother missed nothing, and didn’t overlook the opportunity to make a point. While Jenna was distracted, fighting back the urge to shake them both, her mother attacked her with smug words.

“Still sure he feels so deeply for you?”

Part Sixteen