Chloe wasn't entirely sure how, exactly, she and her friend's asshole of a brother Derek ended up in the tiny closet, squished against each other, as they listened to the sounds of the party continuing without them.

Friday nights were party nights and tonight was no exception. Halloween had always been her favorite time of year—the weather, the change of colors, the candy, the costumes—and this was the year she'd decided to wear a scandalous outfit.

Now that she was twenty and in her own apartment, her aunt couldn't stop her. But right now she was regretting her sexy take on Little Red Riding Hood—a tiny red minidress that hugged her body, a small red poncho, stockings, and black Vans—because she could feel every brush of Derek's hot skin against hers. Her heart hammered in her chest as she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her clit throb between her thighs, heat pooling in her groin.

Her skin prickled when he shifted, hiking her up further on his lap, his warm, big hands sliding across the flesh of her thighs. She bit her lip.

"How did this even happen?" he asked, his voice a low rumble over the pounding of her heart.

"The door swung shut, remember?" She squirmed, trying to get comfortable, feeling the scrape of the denim of his jeans against her hot skin. It sent ripples through her stomach. "I came in here looking to put up my poncho and I think—"

"Tori pushed me in here. What a bitch. She's been trying to set us up for far too long. As if." He snorted, a long, low sound of derision.

Anger rolled through her as she sat back, squinting to see his face, but the closet was too dark. The only light, however faint, barely illuminated the carpet beneath him just under the door, enough to see the color of the carpet.

"What's that supposed to mean? What, am I not pretty enough? Am I not curvy enough for you? Well, forgive me for daring to not be busty and curvy." Rage heated her face as she tried to pull away, tried to put some distance between them but all she ended up doing was smacking her head on the wall behind her. Her eyes stung with tears at the smarting pain, not because Derek just about admitted he could never even fathom being with her.

"What? What the actual fuck are you going on about?" he demanded in a tight voice, adjusting his legs, and the chafe of fabric against her clit nearly pushed the anger to the back of her mind. Almost.

She envisioned him as she'd seen him at the beginning of the party—wearing a leather jacket that did nothing but emphasize the bulk of his physique, jeans worn soft, a black T-shirt that hugged him, and heavy biker boots—and could picture the deep frown, the dark scowl on his face, the deep crease between his eyebrows. As it was she could only smell him, a faint cologne and whatever shampoo he used, pressed as close together as they were.

"What am I going on about? That the idea of you and me is so ridiculous you can't even fathom it! Am I so undesirable to you—" She ignored how warm his skin was through his T-shirt, how his hands squeezed her thighs where she straddled his lap, how firm his biceps were when they brushed her arms.

"It's not." His voice was quiet and strained, husky.

"What?" She froze, heart hammering as blood roared in her ears.

"Ridiculous. You said I couldn't fathom it. I did—I have. You have no idea how much I've fathomed it," he whispered, "and how much I've wanted it."

"You've made it very clear how much you hate me!" she argued sharply, wiggling in his grasp, trying to hike her skirt back down so she felt a little bit less exposed. More so than before. "I don't have big boobs, a big butt. I don't look like a model."

"I don't want a model. I think you look fine. And when have I ever said that I hated you?" Derek's hand drifted down her hips, rested on her thighs and squeezed gently. "You're all I've ever thought about, Chloe." He rocked his hips and the low moan that escaped her made her shudder at the pressure of his erection against her. "You know I'm not good with people."

"That sounds like a you problem. Maybe you—" She stopped, words escaping her as his hand rose up, slid around her arms. Cupped the bottom of her jaw.

"I'm not good with people but I want to be. If it's for you, I want to. That is if you'll have me." There was a soft vulnerability in his words, a quiet heat to them, that gave her pause. He sounded serious.

"But you've always acted like you can't stand me! You run away the minute I walk into the room!" she whispered sharply.

"I'm not good with women. Hell, I hardly have any guy friends. I'm not Mr. Congeniality and I never will be. But you make me want to be better. I get so tongue-tied around you and just absolutely make a fool of myself whenever you're around."

She snorted. "You do that enough without having a big, ole crush on me," she couldn't but tease him, leaning forward to press herself against his chest. His heart pounded against his chest and she could feel it through their clothes. How frantic and quick it was like a frightened rabbit's.

"You can say no and we can never talk about this again," he offered softly, his tone low like he was hurt at the mere notion.

"And if I say yes?" she asked, putting her hands underneath his T-shirt and feeling the firm muscle, the silky, hot skin, beneath the fabric. Her heartbeat drummed in her pussy.

Instead of replying, he kissed her softly, sweetly, his mouth hot and careful like he was worried about being too rough.

Her moan vibrated against his tongue as it delved into her mouth and he began to rock against her pussy, dragging the length of his denim-clad cock against her sensitive clit. She met him eagerly for every thrust and broke the kiss to bury her face in his neck.

"Fuck," he growled against her temple, reaching between them and hesitating when his fingers pinched the hem of her dress's skirt. "Can I make you feel good?" His breath was hot and misting the side of her face as he asked.

Blood hammered in her wrists as she nodded, realized he wasn't able to see her, and said, "Yes. Please. I'm, uh, clean and have the implant. If that's what you were thinking."

He stopped bunching her dress up. "Is that what you want? Cause this is your speed, Chloe."

"And if it is my speed?"

With a low growl that made her giggle, he pulled her dress up to her stomach, revealing her soaked panties and hooked his thumbs in the waistband, pausing until she nodded against his neck, and pulling them down her thighs.

"You're so wet," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her throat and jaw as his thick fingers explored her soaking folds, spreading her wetness all over her clit and fluttering, clenching hole. "Smell so good, Chloe. Fuck…" The words were tight and strained as he hissed them out between his teeth as he slowly pressed a finger into her, and the width of his single finger had her gasping and clutching at his shoulders, digging her nails into the cotton of his T-shirt since he'd discarded his jacket as soon as they were locked in.

He froze at the sound of her gasp. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern filling his voice.

"Yeah," she said after a minute, "your fingers are just big, and I haven't done this in a while."

"Been fingered in a closet during a Halloween party?" As he spoke, he began to move his finger, sliding it in and out, and her thighs trembled without her permission.

"Had anything in my pussy. Not even a toy. Been too tired. Not tired for you—oh, oh, fuck."

He curled his finger as his other hand found her clit, stroking it in circles. Another finger joined his index, stretching her deliciously.

Her head fell forward, forehead on his shoulder, as he stroked and played with her. Pleasure unfurled in her veins not unlike a fire, rampaged through her like quick-silver, and she muffled her whimpers and cries with his skin, sucking on the junction of his throat and shoulder.

He seemed to enjoy it particularly when she accidentally sank her teeth into the spot, his fingers giving a sharp thrust that made her jerk in his arms. "God damn it, Chloe," he groaned, a hand winding through her hair, and he pulled her head back.

Within seconds, his mouth pressed to hers, sucking her lips, his tongue winding its way into her mouth, big and warm and tasting of beer. She wondered if he could taste the mocha latte she'd been sipping on when she arrived as he sucked at her tongue and threaded his around with hers.

All the while, his finger pistoned in and out of her, the wet squelch embarrassing but making it easier for him to finger her, as she rocked her hips back and forth.

"Please," she found herself pleading in a broken voice, pulling away from his kiss to speak.

"Please what?" he growled against her throat as he began to suck a bruise onto the sensitive, tender flesh there. "You gonna cum in this closet? With all our friends out there? Gonna cum on my fingers just like this?"

She nodded, feeling him press an open-mouth kiss just below her jaw, as blood hammered in her temples. An ocean of blood sloshed in her head as her orgasm drove forward steadily, and her legs began to tremble with both strain from kneeling and the tension of her impending orgasm.

"Derek, Derek," she mewled, unable to stop herself, and hot tears prickled in her eyes. Her body jack-knifed in his arms, legs stiffening, her mouth finding his jaw in the darkness, as her orgasm hit her like a battering ram. A low, ragged noise escaped her, muffled by his flesh, as she rode out the sharp, crippling waves, body jerking and writhing with the aftershocks, his fingers slowing.

"Sh," he murmured, raining kisses all over her face as he smoothed back her sweaty hair from her face. He pulled his fingers out her, which made her wince at the sudden emptiness, and rubbed her back as he cradled her gingerly. "It's okay."

She huffed and trembled as sobs overtook her. She didn't know why she was crying but it felt like some sort of catharsis via an orgasm.

"You're okay. It's okay. Are you hurt? Was I too rough?"

Sniffling juicily, she shook her head, wiping her face free of tears with his T-shirt. He didn't even bitch about it, just let her use him as a tissue, and reassured her.

"I'm sorry," she apologized quietly, feeling embarrassed and shameful as she leaned back in his arms. "I don't know why I was crying. I just—"

"Don't." His voice was fierce and harsh in equal measure. "Don't apologize. It's okay to be emotional." He pushed her panties back into place and she relaxed against him, resting her forehead on his chest and listening to the thud of his heartbeat.

Just as she started to speak, a rectangle of light spilled in, making her wince at the sudden brightness.

She turned to find Liz and Rae standing in the doorway, matching smug grins on their faces. "Alright," Rae said, holding her hand out to Liz, "give me my money."

"Money?" Derek said.

"Yeah. We had a bet going how long it would take you two to get together."

"Fuck you!" Chloe laughed as she climbed off Derek's lap, waited for him to get to his feet, and grabbed his hand.

He looked like he couldn't believe she'd held his hand and shot her a half-smile, transforming his surly expression.

She squeezed his hand tightly.

There was so much they had to make up for.