So he’s the one she dressed up like a sin waiting to happen for. He’s the one she’s been taking those shots for.
I wish it was like ten years ago and it was about her weird fixation on peaches.
I wish I hadn’t already painted a picture in my head about what’s going on inside.
But I did.
And all I can see in the midst of my now red vision is Chris removing Nicole’s fuck-me dress and heels and pounding into her until she’s biting her lips and screaming.
That’s fucked up. My thoughts. The accuracy of the image. The rage that’s covering my vision.
The fact that I don’t want anyone to see or hear Nicole while she’s in the throes of pleasure.
I should find Astrid and leave. I’m in no mood to party or fuck or anything.
But that’s not what I do.
My legs are leading me straight to the room and I can’t stop them.
Or maybe I don’t want to.
I jam the knob open and I don’t know why my heart squeezes. Like that first time when I was thirteen and saw Dad kissing a woman that wasn’t Mother, teenage style, while smearing her face with all types of food.
Or the time Zach was screaming at Mother for letting Dad get away with it and she admitted that she had to pretend she didn’t know because her family didn’t want her back and she had nowhere to go.
Oh, and he’ll take us away from her.
I never hated the world more than at that moment.
Never wished I could gut-punch Dad and shove him in the nearest dumpster.
Not only for hurting Mother but for also turning her into someone so absorbed in her pain that she failed to see me or my brother anymore.
So in a way, we lost both parents.
It’s the same feeling of betrayal now—as if someone I gave a piece of me to is burning it alive.
Which is fucking ridiculous. Nicole and I are nothing.
If anything, I hate how much of a bitch she’s become. I hate her band of mean girls, who think being vicious is the new trend.
And yet, I can’t chase away the bitter taste from the back of my throat.
Nicole is lying on the bed and Chris is hovering over her, his hand on his belt.
“Mind if I watch?” I’m taken aback by the slur in my voice.
Chris’s attention slides to me, but Nicole doesn’t even stir.
No idea why that makes me rage like a bitter fucker on pills.
“Get out, Sterling,” Chris bites out. “Why are you ruining my fun?”
I lazily walk to a chair that’s opposite the bed and that’s when I get a glimpse of Nicole’s face.
Her eyes are closed. Is she pretending to be asleep after she heard my voice?
Something doesn’t feel right.
Instead of sitting down, I stride to Chris, who’s now standing to his full height by the side of the bed. The tension in his shoulders resembles a bodybuilder on crack. He probably is, considering his unnaturally bloodshot eyes and the twitch in his fingers.
Why would she even choose this…this crackhead cunt who has more drugs in his system than an eighties’ rock star?
Not that I have a say in who the fuck she chooses, but it’s the weird buzzing in my ears coupled with the hotness in my chest that’s acting now.
“Shouldn’t she be awake for the fun to happen?”
“She likes being woken up with dick, what’s in it for you?”
My teeth grind together and the unbearable heat burns up a notch. “So it’s a habit of yours to wake her up with dick?”
He jerks his chin with a nod.
“Funny, because I don’t remember you being her boyfriend.”
“She’s my side bitch. Are you done questioning your senior?”
“No, not yet.” The fact that he called her a side bitch makes me ball my hands into fists.
Nicole isn’t the type who’d settle for being anyone’s side anything.
She’s the main course. The highlight of a show. The film’s premiere.
I’m about to punch Christopher in the face, out of pure crazy emotions that are raging through me, when a moan echoes in the air.
Nicole’s.
She slowly gets up into a sitting position, her eyes drooping. She looks like a fucking goddess with her slightly flushed cheeks and dewy skin. I want to grab her by the throat and mess her up a little, ruin her a little so she’s not so perfect anymore.
So she finally stoops to my level.
“What’s with all the noise?” she asks with a slur of her own.
“Fuck this,” Chris mutters. “And fuck you, Sterling.”
Then, he storms out of the room, forcibly closing the door shut behind him.
Bloody cunt.
Everything in me is shouting to go after him and punch the bastard until his blood is dripping all over the ground.
“D-Daniel…?”
My attention slides back to Nicole. Her dress has ridden up to her waist, revealing her creamy pale thighs and a hint of her white lace knickers.
Her lips are plump and parted and a red flush covers her cheeks and neck.
No clue if it’s the weird sensation I’ve been having since earlier or the rage I’ve been feeling since I imagined her with Chris or a combination of both, but this view of her gets my dick hard in an instant.
The traitorous fucker strains against my jeans until it’s physically painful. Until the need to grab her is far more powerful and urgent than anything I’ve felt before.
It’s an animalistic need.
An instinct.
Or maybe it’s far deeper than that but I don’t want to think of it as such.
“What are you doing here?” The slur in her voice matches mine—light, subtle but also magical.
Almost like none of this is real.
Maybe it isn’t and this is one of my bothersome nightmares about her that I can’t stop my subconscious from conjuring.
“Do you really like being woken up with dick?” I don’t know why I ask the question, but I do, and I also keep approaching where she’s sitting and watching my every move like a deer caught in the headlights.
“W-what?”
I didn’t think it was possible, but my dick thickens even more at her soft voice. There’s no haughtiness and snobbishness in it. It’s almost as gentle as she looks.
“I said, do you like being woken up by dick? Is that why Chris was here?”
“What…? No…”
“Then is there something else you’re into that I should know about?”
“Why?” She licks her lips, pauses, then lowers her voice until it sounds like something out of my deepest, darkest fantasy. “Will you make it happen?”
“Maybe.”
“Even if it’s a dangerous kink?”
I smile. “My, Peaches. I thought you were as prim as a princess and didn’t even say crude words. Now you have a dangerous kink?”
“I…do.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“I’ll only tell you if you promise to make it happen.”
I pause, contemplating the answer. I don’t usually make promises unless I know what it’s all about.
“If it’s about eating peaches, then no way in fuck. You’re not touching that shit for a lifetime.” I breathe harshly.
Why the fuck did I sound so serious? Protective almost.