“Curiosity killed the cat.” Deke chuckles.
He was expecting me. “Are you gonna kill me?” I almost smile.
He tilts his head to the side and bites his bottom lip as he contemplates that idea. My body heat rises like it seems to do when I’m around him. “Is that what you want?” he asks, reaching out and taking a lock of my hair. He rubs it between his fingers. “Want me to hurt you, Demi?” I swallow nervously ’cause I know this man would do exactly that. I’d have to give him a reason, but once I pushed him to that limit, he wouldn’t think twice. “Is that why you keep coming around me?” He chuckles, and I don’t miss the innuendo.
“No.” My answer is nothing more than a whisper. Not true, but not totally wrong.
I come around you because I hate you. And I want my sister to smell my perfume on you. I want her to know I’ve been near you. Touched you. I wanna watch her go crazy knowing I have taken something from her. Something she was so sure would be there when she decided to quit being a fucking whore and come back.
The corners of his lips turn up. “Liar.” My heart begins to pound, and he leans forward, his lips now inches from mine. “You’re more fucked up than I originally thought,” he whispers.
“Excuse me?” This coming from a monster. We’re more alike than you could ever imagine, Deke.
“I stood outside your room while you watched that documentary. Into murder, are you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about …”
“You lie as bad as your sister does.”
I hate that—the way he compares us—more than anything.
“Is that why I turn you on?” he asks, and his eyes leave mine to admire my lips.
“You don’t—”
He chuckles, cutting me off. “Another lie. I bet you’re wet right now, baby.” His knee pushes between my legs, easily spreading them apart. I’m panting at his closeness. His free hand comes up and cups the side of my face. His touch so soft, it has to be fake. There’s nothing tender about this man. I know he’s fucking with me, but my body isn’t getting the memo. I lean into him, wanting more. Wetness pools between my legs when he lowers his lips to my neck and kisses the sensitive skin there, sending a shiver up my spine. But I feel it’s a threat. He’s pretending to be gentle just to get close to me. He can strike easier from here. Rip my throat out with his teeth. Too bad I don’t care.
I reach out and grip the waistband of his sweatpants as his lips trail up my neck to my ear. He laughs when I moan.
My hands fist the material. My knuckles skimming the smoothness of his defined V. I have a thought of pulling them down just to see what he’ll do from there. I doubt he’ll be laughing then. “You are such a fucking …”
My words are cut short when his lips slam on mine. He doesn’t ask for permission, and I don’t push him away. His hands hold my face in place as his tongue enters my mouth. He tastes just as good as the other night at Silence. Like sin and cinnamon. It stirs something in my stomach, and I pull him closer to me. A moan escapes me as I open my lips, wanting him to take my breath away.
But he draws back and runs his knuckles over my cheek. His blue eyes hold a hint of amusement, reminding me this is just a game to him. I’m panting and so goddamn wet. And losing.
“Go home, Becky.”
My teeth grind and I snap. “Quit fucking calling me that!”
He laughs. “That’s what you want, right? To be like her?” His hands grab mine, ripping them from his sweatpants, and before I can stop him, he pins them above my head to the wall. He presses his body into mine once again. Fuck, he’s hard. My body begins to shake with need, but he ignores it. “You want me to want you like I wanted her.”
“Deke,” I warn, but my knees threaten to buckle. Every time I’m around him, he overpowers me in some way.
I like it.
Throw me on the bed, rip off my clothes, and pin me down. I’ll be your good little whore.
That’s obviously what he’s into— a girl who’s easy and stupid.
“You want me to fuck you like I did her?” His brows pull together as if he can’t quite understand the thought of that. Allowing himself to want me would be beneath him. He thinks she’s so much better than me.
And fuck, I can’t understand it either. I hate him as much as I do her, yet here I am, panting and wet all because he is touching me. Silently begging him to fuck me. “Stop,” I growl as though it’s his fault I came here. What the hell did I expect? Deke Biggs is ready and willing to play. He made that crystal clear when he showed up at my mother’s house last night. And I couldn’t stay away. I’m literally using myself as bait. And men like him, the GWS, don’t ever pass up a chance to draw blood—to eat you alive.
He lowers his head to the crook of my neck, and he kisses me softly just like before. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up at his tenderness. It’s another trap. He has figured out that’s my spot—my weakness—so why am I falling for it?
I moan loudly and then bite my lip to keep from begging for more.
“You want me to treat you how I do her?” he whispers.
I fight to free my hands from his hold, but it doesn’t work. I know he still sees her. He proved that when he thought I was her at Silence.
“Tell me, baby. Did it turn you on when I ordered her to her knees to fuck her mouth?”
My breath hitches.
“Did you listen to her suck my cock like the desperate woman she was?” he asks amused.
“Yes,” I answer shamelessly.
I thought she was as weak and pathetic as he did. Now I understand why she so willingly fell to her knees to try to convince him to stay. But unlike my sister, I know, no matter how much time you spend staying on your knees, you don’t win Deke Biggs over. There are too many other girls out there willing to do the same thing.
His lips trail over my collarbone, and he bites it through my shirt. I whimper as the feel of his teeth makes my pussy throb.
“Do you want to be useful to me?” he asks. “Take her place?”
“Stop!” I growl, getting pissy. “I’m nothing like her.” I want you to want me for me. Fuck Becky and what he felt for her!
He steps back and drops my arms. They fall to my sides like dead weight, and I hate the distance he’s put between us now.
“You’re exactly like her.” He looks me up and down, his blue eyes full of hatred, his lips pulled back with disgust.
For the first time, I see how much he truly hates her. How much I must remind him of her. We both have blond hair and blue eyes, but I’m smaller than her in height and overall size. Becky has always been runway ready with her long legs, but I prefer an oversized T-shirt, no makeup, and a pint of ice cream in my lap while I stay home watching some frightening shit on Netflix. She likes to go out, get drunk or high, and show off everything she has in a tiny skintight dress with heels.
We may look alike, but our similarities stop there. He’ll never believe me, though. And I’m not about to try to make him understand.
But if he hates her so much, then why did he do what he did to me at Silence, thinking I was her? My only guess is a power trip. He thought she wanted him, and he was gonna take advantage of the situation. Then he realized it was me, and he was disgusted. He may hate my sister, but I’m nothing to him. Insignificant. And that’s a hard pill for me to swallow.