Junkie: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by J. D. Hollyfield

  “Cash, let’s go.” His chest heaves, his breathing heavy. I tug on his shirt, and his eyes splinter to mine. “Please,” I beg, needing to get us out of here. He stares at me for another quick second, then shoves my hand off him, turns on his heel, and walks out. I chase after him, stepping out into the evening. In the short time spent inside the bar, the sun has gone down, leaving the night sky dim.

  “Cash,” I call out, but he ignores me as he continues through the parking lot. “Where are you going? You can’t drive. Just stop! Talk to me.” He detours toward a garbage can, kicks it until it’s dented beyond repair, then whips around to face me, his lip swelling and blood dripping from his nose. “What are you doing here? You follow me or something?”

  His brash comment causes me to flinch. “What? No. Beckett told me—”

  “What? To come rescue the fuck-up? Catch me at my lowest so you’d run far away?”

  “No.” I shake my head.

  “Then what? He certainly didn’t tell you to come save me.” His words have a bite to them, leaving a wound deep inside my chest. I fail at hiding the damage he inflicts, hurt manifesting across my face. Sighing heavily, he thrusts his hands through his hair as he stares into the sky.

  “You can’t help me, Luna,” he says, bringing his attention back to me.

  I take a step closer. “I can listen—” I start, but he snaps back, cutting me off.

  “I can’t fucking talk to you. I can’t talk to anyone. No one understands.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  “Oh yeah? How’s that? Do you know how it feels to see someone die in front of you?” I want to say yes, but I stay silent. “I do. My fucking brother. Fuck!” He grabs at his hair, pulling it tight. “Watched his car snap in two. Fucking steel split in half and exploded into a vicious fire, knowing the probability of him walking out alive was non-existent.” His jaw clenches, and I watch as a man so put together cracks at the seams and breaks.

  “Cash…” I reach for him, but he swats my hand away. “Please,” I beg, my own voice breaking.

  “No, listen, you need to go. Go back to wherever it is you came from, Luna. Whatever I started with you…it was wrong. You don’t deserve someone as fucked up as me.”

  “You’re wrong. And I’m not leaving you.”

  “Well then, not only are you naive, but you’re a bad judge of character.” He gives me his back and treks through the lot toward his car while I stand there, allowing his words to hit all the soft spots he aimed for. There’s a part of me that wants to cower at his hurtful remarks, turn around and do just as he said, but where would that leave me? Where would I go? Anger sparks inside me, moving my feet to chase after him.

  “I see you’re hurting. You lost someone you love. But that doesn’t give you the right to talk to me like that. Judge me like that. You know nothing about me—”

  He stops dead in his tracks and spins to face me. When our eyes lock, I instantly feel the sharpness of his reply. “You want me to talk? Let’s talk. Let’s start with you telling me what you’re hiding.” I flinch at his remark.

  “This isn’t about me—”

  “But it is, isn’t it? We’re talking about holding back, fucking living with a pain we refuse to seek salvation for, right?” I can’t hide my flinch as he throws his verbal blows. “What? Did I hit a nerve? Isn’t that what you’re doing? You think I don’t see the pain radiating in your eyes?” I’m struck silent. I don’t know how to reply or fight back. “Oh, come on, you’re not going to deny it, are you? Let’s talk about you.” He storms up to me, almost knocking me backwards. “Why are you here, Luna? What are you running from? Let me guess, you’re going to make me feel better and tell me you know how it feels to see someone you love go up in flames—”

  I slap him.

  The loud clap reverberates into the night as he staggers backwards. I pull my stinging hand back leaving him with an angry welt across his already bruised face. I’m desperate to suck air into my lungs, to no avail. The pain of his words stabs at me, over and over.

  I slap him again.

  I bring my stinging hand to my chest, fighting to hold together the shattering pieces of my wounded heart. The fire in his eyes starts to dim and the reactions of his sharp words start to register.

  “Fuck, Luna, I’m sorry—Luna!” His voice travels after me as I run as far away from him as I can, fighting back tears as I race out to the street, needing distance. What was I thinking? I should have never thought this would have panned out to anything. Shame on me for hoping.

  “Luna.”

  Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

  I whip around, my face etched with the sharp wounds of his accusations. Even if they are the truth. He opens his mouth, probably to do more damage, but I cut him off. “No, you’re right. I’m not willing to share. I don’t want to admit I came from a shitty place. That I’m a shitty person, and that I’ve done shitty things. You want me to confess that I’ve seen death—that I’ve caused death? Then there you go. But I don’t need your scrutiny or your judgment.”

  I’m breathing in quick, heavy pants, my anger so fierce, and my legs begin to violently shake. Cash reaches out and captures me, bringing me into his arms. His warm breath has a lingering scent of booze, but his hold feels oddly safe.

  “Luna…” My name is a soft plea. Gone is the bite in his tone, and in its place, a vulnerability I haven’t seen before. “Please…” I want to fight him. Tell him to go to hell and leave this place and never look back. I want to push him away and take back everything I confessed. “Luna…” he repeats, his lips pressed against my hair as his body starts to slump against mine. “I’m sorry…it’s just…” His chest rumbles against me. His grip around me tightens, and a piece of my heart chips away. “I can’t…I just can’t…”

  Police lights flash, blinding us both. He pulls away as a car pulls up next to us.

  “Good evening, kids. Any reason why you two are—damn, Cash Huntington? That you?”

  Cash pulls away to compose himself. “Hey, yeah, the one and only.”

  “Holy cow. My son is a huge fan. Congrats on last week’s win.”

  “Wow, thanks. Tell him I said hey.”

  The cop, forgetting why he stopped in the first place, smiles wide. “Yeah, wow, will do. Hey, be careful this close to the road. Never know with drivers nowadays.”

  He tips his hat and takes off. There’s a moment of silence between us as we both watch the headlights disappear into the distance.

  “Want me to drive you home?”

  I face him, confused why he’s offering to drive me home. “How about I drive you home?”

  It takes him a moment. Him surrendering means having someone else drive his baby. I expect him to say no and go to pull out my phone in preparation of calling us both a cab when his head slumps, and without argument, he hands me his keys.

  The ride is quiet aside from him giving me his address. When we walk into his place, he doesn’t stop to acknowledge me, so I assume I’m being dismissed. I drop his keys on the front table. “So…uh, I’m gonna get going.”

  He halts at my words, shifting until his eyes, distressed and bloodshot, find mine. Raw emotion bleeds from his red rimmed eyelids. He holds so much torment in his gaze it causes my heart to crack. “No.” There’s a low tremble in his voice.

  “What?”

  “Please don’t. I just want you to…stay.” I know pain. Sorrow. Loss. I know how it feels to drown in it—struggle to find reason to save yourself from the darkness. You can try to run from it, hide from the ghosts that haunt you, but the stain of guilt never goes away.

  His grief is like knives stabbing through my already fragile heart. We may have come from different worlds, but we carry the same heavy burden. My feet move on their own, until I’m wrapped around him, and he falls apart. My own chest feels tight. I wish I could syphon off the grief that lives inside him. Gather all his crumbling pieces and mend him back together. Fix him, even though I have no idea how t
o fix myself. I take his hand and walk us down a short hallway, searching out his bedroom. He doesn’t fight me when I lay him on his bed, bringing his large frame to my chest and hold him close. He’s quiet for so long, I wonder if he’s fallen asleep. Then he speaks.

  “The past year, things have been so fucked. I’ve been so numb to the reality around me. It’s like being paralyzed. You see all the destruction, but you don’t feel any of it. I look at this person I’ve become and it kills me. The good in me disappeared the day my brother died.” He swipes at his bruised face, ashamed of the emotions he’s revealing. “Sometimes I sit back and watch. I feel like I’m on top of it, but I’m stuck in this box, struggling for air. Struggling to free myself from this hell I’ve been in since he died. I miss him, and I can’t…”

  Excruciating sorrow erupts from his chest as he finally lets go. “I just want him to come back. I want to not feel the guilt of our fight. Be the cause of his distraction. I want to put myself in that car instead of him.”

  I hold him to me, his head pressed tightly to my chest. I struggle to hold back my own sobs fighting to explode, understanding the raw emotions all too well. The freefall into depression and regret is hard and ugly—especially when there’s no one at the bottom to catch you.

  “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you,” I tell him, holding him tighter. A ripple of unspoken familiarity bleeds between us. Understanding. Regret. We may be strangers, but part of us is very much alike. I allow him to let go, releasing all the buried pain and grief he has pent up since the death of his brother. I keep hold until his body subsides, and he slowly starts to pull away.

  “I feel like I’m losing my mind. All this guilt. It’s making me forget my past. Lose sight of my future. I miss him. I swear, I see him sometimes, warning me, but I still don’t listen. Shit, sometimes I feel like my life is a videogame. There’s a winner and a loser. And sooner or later, it ends.”

  I sit up, cupping his cheeks, my finger grazing over his swollen bottom lip. “Don’t say that. You have so much going for you.”

  “I’m going to end up just like him.”

  My palms grip tighter against his face, trying not to inflict more pain to his bruised cheek as I brush my nose against his. “You won’t.” I pull his head to mine and place my lips over his, kissing past the saltiness on his mouth. He’s hesitant at first, but then his hands lift, capturing my face and kissing me with an intensity that sends a fervid spark though my body.

  “I barely know you, yet you make me completely lose my mind when I’m around you.” He deepens our kiss, his tongue breaking the barrier, finding mine. We do this dance, taking in one another, our hands becoming restless, reaching for each other. Mine fall to his shirt, wishing away the clothes that separate us. His drop to my waist, pulling me closer, lifting me onto his lap. I straddle him, both of us refusing to unlock our lips.

  “God, your lips, it’s like they’re meant for me.” He presses deeper. His body warms me, his lips finally breaking from mine and its sweet torture as he consumes the heated skin alongside my neck. “I shouldn’t make you stay.” Kiss after kiss rains down my neck and my collarbone. “But this feels…I can’t explain it.” His hands cup my breasts through my top, and I lean into his touch. My eyes fall shut, and my fingers disappear into his hair.

  “Tell me to stop. Tell me I’m a son of a bitch for even trying.” He squeezes my breast to a pleasurable pain and drops his lips, taking my covered nipple into his mouth, his teeth pressing against my pebbled flesh.

  “Cash,” I whisper, my entire body throbbing.

  “Fuck,” he bites hard, but quickly releases me. His eyes find mine, searing and demanding. “Tell me to stop. With you, I can’t seem to—”

  I scoop my fingers under my t-shirt and raise it up my stomach and over my head, dropping it on the floor. He doesn’t move, so I continue. My hands latch onto my jeans, and I unbuckle the button, pulling my zipper down. “Fuck, Luna, are you sure?”

  I’ve never been more sure of anything, than in this moment holding eye contact with him. I wait for him to make his next move, worried he’ll turn me down while praying he doesn’t.

  “God, Luna…” My name is hoarse and gravely off his tongue. His hands grip my waist, and he lays me against the mattress, his warm body blanketing mine. His nose brushes in between my breasts, his hands traveling behind me and unlatching my bra. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

  I refuse to accept his praise. I know I’m far from it, but I’ll pretend his words are real. I’ll give in to the lies and fall down the rabbit hole of all things Cash Huntington. I feel drunk on him, the way his hands graze my skin, as if he’s memorizing every part of me. I’m paralyzed by his touch, captive under his hold, and I fear if he ever stops, it will break me.

  “No more talking.” I can’t bear to hear his sweet lies any longer. Words that are so powerful but carry as much pain as they do praise. I lift my head and take his mouth. My hips rise and brush against him, his erection hard and angry pressed against my naval. A growl deep inside his chest awakens me, and I wrap my hands around his neck, pulling him even closer, craving the friction.

  “Fuck.” He kisses me, pouring so many fervent praises into it. “You’re so beautiful. You wake up this part of me…” More kisses. More of him. He sits up, lifting his shirt, tossing it over his head and discarding it to the floor. My hands lift to clasp around the button of his jeans, and I take part in undressing him. Our eyes never break as I sit up, unzip his pants, and slide them down his thick thighs.

  “You don’t have to do this. We don’t—”

  “I want to,” I vow, my hands becoming restless. He covers his over mine, halting me.

  “Hey, relax. Let me. I need to savor you.” He leans over me, guiding me back on the bed. His mouth grazes the tip of my chin, and his lips, like silk, work their way up, until he’s covering mine. His kiss is so meticulously slow, I become restless under him. My hands glide down his chest, dipping into his boxer briefs. My fingers wrap around his length, and I grip him hard, taking one long stroke of his shaft. “Jesus, Luna, you’re going to kill me.” When he pumps his hips into my hand, the sexiest growl, low and beastly falls from his lips. My body vibrates with each stroke. His response to my simple touch has me on fire. I ache to know what he would feel like between my thighs.

  “I want you inside me. Please,” I beg, my voice laced with need.

  He thrusts once more into my hand, and my legs tremble at the thought of him, so thick and long, driving into my sex. His mouth leaves mine, and he works my jeans completely off, his curiosity evident as he notices the cut on my thigh. Thankfully, he doesn’t press, and removes his pants, leaving us both bare and vulnerable. “Are you sure?” His eyes flicker with pure, undeniable lust. Goosebumps line my skin, and a spark of desire ignites an urge in me. I may wither away if he doesn’t grant me my wish. Understanding flashes across his face, and he pulls back, grabbing something from his nightstand. Leaning back, I watch as he rips open a condom and slides it down his impressive cock. I bite my lower lip at the mere thought of what’s to come, and a small smile creeps along his face.

  “You have to stop looking at me like that or this isn’t going to last long.” He hums and spreads my legs wide to place himself at my entrance. His eyes rest on mine, unblinking as he presses the tip of his cock inside me. At the first touch to my entrance, my eyelids fall shut, basking in the way he opens me up. He waits until I reopen them to drive all the way into me. Shared moans of sexual bliss penetrate the air as we collide in a whirlwind of infinite pleasure. Time goes still. He stays fitted deep inside me until the fervent need to consume causes him to snap, his piercing eyes drowning in waves of desire, my own overwhelmed with need. He slides out and thrusts back home. My head tilts back, and my mouth parts. My breathing hitches as his movements become quicker, harder. I feel like I’m flying. The softness of his mouth swallows each moan as he kisses me with an intensity that takes me to a place I’ve never experienced b
efore. True bliss. Satisfaction. My body starts to quake as he pulls out and drives into me again with force. My legs wrap around his hips and hold tight. With each thrust, I lose myself in him. All of him. My nails dig roughly into his skin as my orgasm blasts through me, taking me to an alternate universe where absolute pleasure exists. My voice is strangled as I moan into his mouth and clench around him so tight, it sets off his own explosion. He pumps hard and fast into me as he expands until he lets go, his own orgasm taking flight.

  His heart hammers against mine as he falls on top of me. I find myself hugging him to me, never wanting to let go, exposing my own sense of desperation. When I realize I’m probably strangling him, I release my arms, dropping them to my sides. He lifts up, locking our eyes together, a pensive smile spreading across his face. He gently pulls out, and the absence of him cuts me down a notch. He slides off the bed and disappears into the bathroom, then returns a moment later, climbing back on the bed. He hovers over me, his eyes staring intensely into mine.

  “You…okay?” he asks, assessing my mood. His expression reflects how amazing what we just shared was and I smile back, feeling equally as content. Sated.

  “I’m great.” I giggle, suddenly shy, feeling a bit surreal at what just happened. I, Luna Monroe, just had amazing, intense, passionate sex with Cash Huntington, the smoking hot, professional racecar driver.

  “What’s going through that pretty mind of yours?” He breaks into my silly thoughts, and I wish I could take it back and hide the blush creeping across my already flushed cheeks.

  “Nothing…just…you’re not bad for a speedster creepster.”

  His laughter is what dreams are made of. It sinks through my veins. I wish I could bottle it up and take it with me when times get hard—to feel hope and safety and remember how it felt to be truly cherished. His fingers dig into my ribs, and an eruption of giggles spews from my lips.