I grab her hand and force it behind her back as I lean in and whisper in her ear. “I’ll finish you, but first you have to sit back and do what I say.”

She nods her head and immediately obeys when I instruct her to lie back with her shoulders against the headboard. I’m out of condoms so I’ll have to make do with what’s available. I straddle her chest and her eyes widen at the sight of my cock in front of her face.

“That’s … that’s kind of big,” she whispers.

“Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you.”

I slide my hand behind her head, to control the movement and to protect her head from the headboard, then I slide into her mouth. I go slow at first, to let her adjust to my girth, but she soon reaches around to grab hold of my ass and push me farther inside. The pressure of her lips and the warm wetness of her tongue are perfect, but her teeth are killing me.

“Open your mouth wider,” I groan and she mutters something I can’t understand with my cock in her mouth. “Fuck.” I can’t fuck her. I’m out of condoms and I’m not making that mistake again, but I can’t take the scraping. I pull out of her mouth and her lips look red and stretched. “Turn around.”

She quickly turns onto her belly and I grab her waist to pull her hips up into the air. I shake my head to shake off the doubts then I glide an inch into her pussy, just to get my dick wet, then I pull out. She gasps as I slide my heat between her cheeks and press gently against the opening.

“Feel free to scream,” I say as I slide inside, just a smidge farther with each stroke.

She buries her face in the pillow with the flannel pillowcase to muffle her screams and I’m glad for that when I hear my phone vibrating on the nightstand. I should let it ring, but my thoughts bounce to all different sorts of scenarios. Maybe Grandma’s calling about the brown sugar I was supposed to bring her last night, or Molly is calling for her cider. Or maybe it’s Senia finally coming to her senses.

I quickly pull out of Chrissy and reach for the phone. When I glimpse the name on the screen, I can’t believe my eyes. It’s Elaine. She knows I’ll never answer her calls, so I’m not sure why she even tries. I hit the ignore button and I’m not at all surprised when I look down and see I’ve lost my erection.

I look back at my phone and see a voicemail notification from Molly. I press the play icon and listen: Tristan – wait! Oh, sh—’

I laugh as I imagine her dropping her phone. I’ll call her back once I’m out of here.

“Who the fuck was that?”

“You have a dirty mouth,” I tell Chrissy as I hurry up and start gathering my clothes off the wooden floor to get dressed.

“Are you leaving?” she shrieks as I pull on my pants.

“You said your friends are getting here at eight. It’s seven thirty.” I pull on my shirt and shoot off another text to Senia wishing her a Happy Thanksgiving. She can’t ignore me forever.

“Don’t you at least want my number?” she says as she jumps out of bed and follows me to the front door naked.

“No.”

“Fuck you!”

“Already fucked you and it wasn’t that great.”

She swings her open hand at my face, but I open the door in time to block it. Her hand smacks the inside of the door hard enough that it makes me a little nervous.

“Your hand okay?” I say with a chuckle, but I quickly slam the door shut as she reaches back to take another shot.

I laugh as I turn around and Link and his girlfriend, whose name I can’t remember, are coming up the paved stone walkway.

“You bastard,” Link says with a smile as he slaps my keys into the palm of my hand. “I knew you’d hit that.”

“You guys are pigs!” his girlfriend shouts, elbowing Link in the stomach as she makes her way to the front door.

“Do you always have to resort to violence?” he barks at her.

“You might want to give her a few seconds to get dressed,” I say over my shoulder.

Link shakes his head, a smirk materializing beneath his painful grimace. “Happy Thanksgiving, bro.”

“Same to you.”

I slide into the driver’s seat and immediately attempt to call Molly. After four rings, I get her voicemail greeting.

Why are both Molly and Elaine trying to reach me?

I hang up and toss the phone onto the passenger seat as I pull away from the cabin and start off down the long dirt road that leads off the farm and onto the highway. I speed along the highway back to Raleigh, shaving a good ten minutes off the forty-five-minute drive.

When I pull up next to the curb outside Grandma Flo’s, I’m not surprised to see Elaine’s shitty Nissan parked in the driveway. If it weren’t Thanksgiving and if I weren’t so worried, I’d peel the fuck out of here. I rush out of the car, not at all looking forward to seeing Elaine when I’m hungover and wearing last night’s clothes. But I guess it’s better that she thinks I’m a worthless drunk who’s pissing his millions into the toilet. The less she knows about me the better.

I race up the front steps then open the door, preparing my psyche for the inevitable rage that will follow the sight of her emaciated face. The living room is empty, so I quickly move to the only logical place for Grandma to be on Thanksgiving morning: the kitchen. The kitchen is also empty and the turkey is still swimming in the bucket of brine. Grandma usually gets it into the oven by 6 a.m. Something’s wrong.

Senia

The gods of Thanksgiving and I have a secret pact: I eat all their tasty offerings and they agree to not let me vomit or gain more than five pounds. Unfortunately, they never seem to hold up their end of the bargain on the weight gain and, when December rolls around, I find myself renewing my pact with the treadmill gods. But I think I may have been a bit overenthusiastic in my commitment to consuming the tasty offerings of the day. I feel sick, which gives me the perfect opportunity to skip out on family karaoke hour so I can handle some covert business.

Once Claire is deeply entrenched in a karaoke battle with my cousin Nico, I sneak out of the family room and race upstairs. It’s a few minutes past one in the afternoon. Tristan texted me about six hours ago. I know I’m going to regret this.

Me: Thanks for the kind message. Now kindly stop texting me. I’m not interested in being one of your concubines.

I actually get a pain in my chest after I hit send. I know I’m supposed to hate Tristan and I’m sure as hell not supposed to talk to him, but I can’t help but feel like I’m misjudging him. Like we’re all misjudging him.

That’s so stupid! That’s exactly what guys like him want girls to think. Oh, poor misjudged Tristan who fucks anything that breathes.

I met Tristan a little more than three years ago after a show they played in Durham. Claire and I had been friends for a total of five weeks, but I already knew, from the moment she shared her love of Vampire Diaries with me, that she and I were destined to be best friends forever. She actually had to drag me to the show. I was pretty shy before college. Most of my friends throughout junior high and high school were math geeks, like me. Unfortunately, none of my high school friends ended up attending UNC Chapel Hill. Starting from scratch is difficult for any eighteen-year-old, but for a kid with moderate social anxiety, it’s torture. Thankfully, Claire supported me through my drink-till-you-don’t-give-a-fuck stage of development. So, of course, the first thing I did when I arrived at the club in Durham to watch Chris, Tristan, and Jake perform was get shit-faced drunk.

Needless to say, my eyes were glued to Tristan all night as crazy thoughts of marriage and babies – and hot sex – raced through my socially inept and highly inebriated brain. Eventually, about halfway through the show, he finally cast his smoky gaze in my direction and smiled – a smile that I would later learn he and Chris refer to as their crowd smile. But, let me tell you, when he directed that smile my way … I’m not ashamed to say that I think I may have peed a little.