*

Eloise O'Shea introduced herself to Jameson at a party thrown by Jameson's father. Both their families were there, and he had met Mathias O'Shea before, but never the O'Shea women. Eloise was exceptionally pretty – when he met her, his first thought was that she could have been a model, if she wanted. Tall, with long legs and smooth hips. She smiled the right smiles, said the right things.

Boring.

He vaguely remembered her gesturing to the rest of her family, her mother and Mathias, who was standing almost in front of a young woman. A leggy, coltish girl who bore very little resemblance to her sister, Jameson could barely see her. He didn't look twice, anyway. He was a month away from twenty-one and already wealthier than anyone had a right to be; young women didn't interest him. Tall blondes with shapely bodies, however, were right up his alley.

Jameson and Ellie met again on several occasions, “bumping” into each other. He would later learn that a lot of it had been carefully crafted by their parents, arranging the whole relationship from the get go. Every time, Ellie angled for a date, mentioning restaurants she liked, offering to get him into exclusive events, blah blah blah.

Jameson didn't give two fucks about restaurants or events – he just wanted to know what she was like in bed.

It took a long time, longer than he would have liked. She was charming and smart, but boring as fuck. He had been raised to be polite, however, so he stuck it out. He'd never gotten along with his father, but for once, the old man was pleased with his decision. Jameson was tired of butting heads with him, so staying with Ellie just seemed easier.

She wasn't horrible in bed – though of course, most women had to actively try to be bad in bed. She was eager to please, but it soon became apparent that she wasn't eager to please him in the ways he really wanted. And Jameson was coming to realize that the things he wanted were pretty far from “normal”.

The first time he ever “met” Tatum O'Shea, it was the beginning of February. Jameson had managed to avoid officially meeting the O'Shea clan for as long as possible, but after two months of dating Ellie, he couldn't beg off anymore. No one could pitch a fit quite like she could, and Jameson hated a fit. So he agreed to have dinner at her house.

He was standing in the living room, having a brandy with Mathias, when the front door swung open, then slammed shut quickly. Jameson glanced in the hall, then did a double-take. A girl was walking towards the stairs, snapping into her phone. She had long black hair that had been yanked up into a messy ponytail on top of her head, and she was wearing running shorts that were so ridiculously tight and tiny, she might as well have just been wearing underwear.

But thinking that made him wonder if she was wearing any underwear at all, which then led to thoughts of peeling her shorts off of her and doing unspeakable things to her … most likely involving tying said shorts around various parts of her body, and -

“Kane,” Mathias barked. “Have you met my other daughter, Tatum?”

That's the girl from the Christmas party!?

“No, I haven't,” Jameson replied.

“Willful child, that one. We told her you would be here tonight, told her what time to be home, but did she listen? Of course not. Ridiculous. And that outfit. She looks like a prostitute,” Mathias grumbled. Tatum was oblivious to all this as she paced in front of the stairs, arguing with whoever was on the other end of the phone.

Stop looking at her like that, she's sixteen, you fucking pervert.

“It's not so bad, she was obviously exercising,” Jameson managed to respond.

Tatum finally got off her phone and jogged up the stairs. Jameson cleared his throat, looked away. Mathias grumbled some more, but they didn't talk about Tatum again. Though Jameson spent the better part of the night watching the stairs, waiting for her to come down, wondering what she'd look like in normal clothing.

She never came – he would later learn that her father had sent her a message telling her not to, telling her that she had already embarrassed him enough in front of their guest.

Over the course of his relationship with Ellie, Jameson didn't see Tatum a whole lot. The two girls were far enough apart in age that they really didn't have that much in common. On top of that, they were two very different people. Two people who didn't get along very well. Ellie never invited her sister anywhere or to anything, and Jameson avoided family gatherings like the plague, so he never had a reason to be around Tatum.

But every time he did find himself around her, he was struck by her presence. She was somewhat shy and reserved, but when she did smile, it was big, and lit up the room. She had sharp, dark eyes, and was very smart. And her body, dear lord. She was only five years younger than him; if they had been twenty-five and thirty, it wouldn't have made a difference. But seventeen and twenty-two? Jameson knew the way he looked at her was inappropriate. Still, good looks were good looks, he couldn't deny that, and Tate had looks in spades. Different from Ellie. Darker.

There was something about her that brought out the dark thoughts in Jameson, as well.

The first time Jameson tried to break up with Ellie, he had been very blunt. He told her the main reason was because she was boring in bed. Jameson wanted something else, something different. Ellie screamed and threatened and cried. Jameson didn't care.

That first attempted break up was the first time he slept with someone outside of their relationship. He had gone to a bar, hooked up with a waitress. A very adventurous girl with a ridiculously talented mouth, but the best part – the woman loved when he pulled her hair. Something about this thrilled him. The harder he pulled, the more she liked it. The deeper she sucked him, the harder she rode him.