by Jade, Ashley
Especially when she speeds up her movements.
“Bet you wish you gave in sooner, huh?” Damien taunts.
My teeth clack with annoyance. “Will you shut the fuck up.”
The only thing worse than coming before you want to…is having another guy witness it.
There’s only one way to save my reputation and that’s to go out with a bang.
I tug Mrs. Miller’s hair until her head falls back and my dick pops out of her mouth.
“Open.”
Aiming to please, she tries to put me in her mouth once more, but I tug her hair again. Much harder this time. “Did I tell you to suck it?”
Shaking her head, she looks at Damien.
Jealousy courses through my veins. I don’t want her looking at Damien while my cock is in front of her face.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I wind her hair in my fist and slap her cheek with my dick. “Don’t look at him.”
It’s such a vile, cruel thing to do. But it gets my point across…and fuck if it doesn’t spark a hellfire of lust inside of me.
Competing with Damien is an intoxicating, dangerous mixture.
I stroke my pulsing dick. “You gonna be a good girl? Or do I have to slap that pretty face of yours with this again?”
Her eyes light up like Christmas trees. “I’ll be anything you want me to be.”
“Well, shit,” Damien utters. “This just got interesting.”
I jerk it faster, tuning him out. “Take out your tits.”
The second she does, I shoot my load in thick, stringy ropes all over her mouth, face, and glorious tits. It makes me drunk with primal satisfaction. Like I’ve marked my territory in front of my rival.
Only, Damien’s not the enemy.
He’s more like a puppet master…pulling everyone’s strings to get them to perform for his own enjoyment.
There’s something oddly fascinating about it. It’s as if you get to step outside yourself temporarily and walk into his world.
Mrs. Miller stands, and Damien tosses her a roll of paper towels. “You might want to clean up before you go home to your husband.”
It’s like he dumped a vat of ice water over my head. Not only did I slap my teacher’s face with my prick and come all over her. I inadvertently helped her cheat on her husband.
I go to leave, but he drapes one arm around my shoulder and the other around Mrs. Miller’s. “The three of us are going to have so much fun.”
Mrs. Miller giggles, but I remove his arm and step away. “This was a one-time thing for me.”
“Bullshit.” He grins. “You enjoyed it too much to stop now.”
He’s right. It’s addicting.
But trying a drug once doesn’t make you an addict.
“I have to go. I’m late for a student council meeting.”
I’m halfway down the empty hallway when I hear footsteps approaching behind me. I don’t even have to turn around to know who it is.
“I’m disappointed in you, Mr. President.”
“Fuck off, Damien.”
“I’m good, thanks. Already cleaned my pipes in the science room storage closet.”
“Yeah, and I bet you can’t wait to tell everyone about it and ruin her life when she least expects it. Can you?”
Quicker than I can blink, he slams me against a locker. “Is that what your problem is? You think I’m some kind of snitch?”
“No.” I bare my teeth. “I think you’re a manipulative asshole who uses people for sport.”
I’m not sure where this venom is coming from, all I know is it feels good to not hold back. I’m tired of keeping all my feelings—good and bad—hidden under my good boy exterior.
Those creepy blue eyes darken. “It’s not using people if they like it.”
He has a point. Kind of. “Enjoying something doesn’t make it right.”
“Aren’t you sick of playing by the rules all the time?”
I’m so sick I could keel over. But I know what I want…and I know what path I need to take to get there.
Hanging around Damien and screwing hot married teachers, isn’t it.
I need to keep my hands clean and my focus razor sharp.
“Do you know what you want to be when you grow up?”
Amusement lines his face. “Wow, you get one blow job from a teacher and you go all after-school special on me.”
“I’m being serious. Do you know what you want to do with your life?”
“I’m not sure. Investing, maybe?” He shrugs. “Haven’t really thought about it much.”
That doesn’t surprise me. We’re two totally different people. Like oil and water, we don’t mix.
“I’ve known what I wanted to be since I was five.”
A scoffing noise escapes him. “I know, man. Everyone around here knows you want to follow in your daddy’s footsteps and run for office.”
“I’d want to run even if he wasn’t my dad.” I start walking and he follows. “It might sound stupid to some, but it feels right to me. It’s my calling.”
I expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t. “Then you should follow it.” We wander out to the parking lot and he lights a cigarette. “I don’t see how having some fun and screwing a few girls is a crime.”
“You know just as much as I do that people are inherently selfish. They’ll throw anyone under the bus for payback, personal gain, or because something better comes along. I can’t trust what I do now won’t come back to bite me later on.”
He takes a long drag off his cigarette. “For what it’s worth, I’d never let any chick we mess with do that to you.” He pulls out his phone and hands it to me. “Bros over hoes. Let’s just call this one yours.”
I blink, not understanding. “But it’s your phone.”
“It hasn’t been mine for over a week.” When I raise a brow, he pulls out another phone. “This one’s mine.”
I feel like I’m in the twilight zone. None of this shit makes any sense. “Why would you be okay with people thinking I’m you?”
He drops his cigarette and steps on it. “So you can be you without having to suffer the consequences. Every text you send to Mrs. Miller and whoever else is through my phone number. No one will be able to trace it back to you. Therefore, you don’t have to worry about your past coming back to haunt you.”
His statement only confuses me more. “Why would you do that?”
“I’m not really sure. Maybe I’m in the mood for a friend.”
“You don’t have friends.”
“Exactly.”
“Okay, let’s say I went along with…whatever this is. How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t.”
I hand him back his phone. “Thanks for the offer, it’s tempting, but I’m gonna pass.”
“Why?”
“Are you dense? You just said it yourself. I can’t trust you. Why in the world would I open myself up to that potential pitfall? There are plenty of girls my own age I can hook up with without all the bullshit yours bring.”
“You’re right.” He stops walking when we reach my car. “There are plenty of sweet, wholesome girls who would give their left tit to suck your right nut…but you and I both know it’s not the same. People like us need more than that. Their idea of a thrill is jerking their boyfriends off in a movie theater. Not the same shit we’re into.”
“You don’t know what kind of shit I’m into.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He shoves me against my car. “I saw you in that classroom, brother. You’re like a goddamn bomb ready to explode. And if you don’t relieve some of that pent-up tension inside you, sooner or later you’re going to detonate.” He punches the side of my car. “Boom.”
“No offense, but you’re fucking crazy. I don’t know what you think you know about me, but whatever it is, I guarantee you it’s wrong. I’m fine, Damien. Unlike you, I’m normal.” I open my car door. “Go find someone else who wants to ride shotgun to your twisted shit
.”
White-hot pain sears through my body when he grabs my neck. “You have a bruise the size of Texas on your back, dude.”
He releases me, but I stay put, too afraid to move or speak.
“And before you accuse me of stalking you, I have gym eighth period. I’m guessing you have gym seventh because you were still in the locker room changing when I arrived.”
Finally, I find my voice. “I think you’re mistaken.”
He snorts. “About the line of bruises spanning from your neck to your ass…or the fact that your daddy is responsible for putting them there?”
In two fluid movements, my hand is wrapped around his throat. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” I tighten my hold, watching his face change colors. “I fell down the stairs last week.”
It’s a lie and he knows it. But admitting your dad is still beating the shit out of you when you’re about to graduate high school isn’t something a man does.
Neither is disclosing the fact that your own brother picked up his bad habits. What started out as a regular argument last week ended with my brother taking a chair to my back.
Which of course led to my father taking off his belt while I was too weak to defend myself—because according to him, I must have provoked his favorite twin.
My family has problems…every family does. However, my family problems are my business, not his.
Despite his red face, Damien doesn’t struggle. Instead, his blue eyes blaze, challenging me. Like he wants to see how far I’ll go.
He coughs when I release him. “Like I said…boom.”
“I thought you said you had Mrs. Miller for eighth period?” I yell when he stalks off.
Between the phone and his fixation on my personal life, I can’t help but feel like he intentionally set me up to walk in there.
And if he’d go that far, there’s no telling what else he would do if I agreed to this strange friendship.
He turns, arms wide. “Thought you said you had a student council meeting today?” He flips me the bird when I stay silent, his expression growing sinister. “Looks like we’re both liars.”
Chapter 14
Cain
“I’ve arranged for the local newspaper to come by this week and do a story on the engagement,” Milton Bexley informs me, his eyes zipping around the room. “Where is that goddamn waitress with the shish kabobs? Swear this event goes farther downhill every year.”
“You already finished your second plate of hors-d'oeuvres, Daddy. The doctor said you need to watch your diet and cholesterol,” Margaret scolds, nudging him with the stick of her purple masquerade mask.
A waitress appears at his side a moment later. “Would you like more?”
“Yes.” I down the rest of my whiskey and place the empty glass on her tray. “Make it a double.”
Milton nods. “Me too.”
“Right away, sir,” the waitress says at the same time Margaret hisses, “Daddy.”
“Don’t start,” Milton grumbles. “Can’t you see we’re both celebrating the big news?”
He might be celebrating. I’m grieving.
The plan was to announce our engagement a few months after the election. However, Milton thinks doing it beforehand will encourage people to vote for me. According to several news sources, I’m starting to dip in the polls. It’s not enough to make me panic since I’m still ahead…but downward slopes are never a good thing.
People are starting to doubt me and my capabilities.
Which is why I didn’t put up much of a protest when what was supposed to be a business lunch turned into picking out engagement rings.
But right now? I’m having second thoughts about everything.
“Are you sure an engagement right before the election won’t backfire? I don’t want potential voters concerned about my focus shifting to my fiancée and the upcoming wedding instead of where it should be.”
Margaret huffs, clearly offended.
Tough shit. It’s what she signed up for.
“Personally, I’m more concerned about how your stepdaughter will handle the news.” She takes a dainty sip of her champagne. “I used to volunteer at the local psychiatric hospital. Let’s just say girls with her issues can be very co-dependent. It’s going to be quite an adjustment period for her when she moves out.”
“Eden isn’t moving out.” I scan the ballroom for the waitress because I could use that second drink now. “And she’s not psychotic. She just has a few issues she needs to work on.”
“Don’t we all,” Milton drawls.
“Sorry, but I’m not comfortable with my husband living under the same roof with someone like her.” The mask shielding her face does little to hide her annoyance. “I don’t know any woman who would be.”
If I don’t put my foot down about Eden now, she’ll keep pushing the issue. “I’m not kicking Eden out of her mother’s house.”
“That’s fine. Leave her there and we’ll move into our own.”
“I don’t feel right leaving her all alone.”
“Why not? It’s not like she’s your actual daughter.”
“It’s non-negotiable.”
Margaret crosses her arms. “Daddy.”
Milton sighs. “Cain, Margaret has a point. You don’t want to give people something to talk about.”
I was hoping the three of us living as one happy family would prove to everyone for once and all that Eden isn’t a homewrecker and stop all the gossip.
As if sensing the tension brewing in our circle, the waitress delivers our drinks.
I take a large swig of mine before I speak. “She doesn’t have any other family. Her mother only passed away a year ago. I wouldn’t feel right leaving her on her own so soon.”
“Shish kabob,” Milton reminds the waitress and she runs off.
Margaret rolls her eyes. “Please, she’s hardly a child. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be leaving town. You can call and check in with her from time to time.” Her lips form a tight line. “Most girls her age are heading off to college and living on their own.”
Milton swipes a shish kabob off a nearby waitress’s tray. “Come to think of it, that’s not a bad idea.”
I raise a brow. “What’s not a bad idea?”
“Sending the girl away to college. If you’re so worried about her well-being, then ensuring she receives a proper education is the best thing you can do for her and her future.”
“Daddy’s right.” Margaret croons. “Education is very important. Who knows? She could become the next great biophysicist and find a cure for cancer.”
Milton chuckles. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Despite the knot forming in my stomach, I know it’s the best solution for all involved. Eden needs to spread her wings…and I need to forget about her and keep my focus where it should be.
She’ll never go for it, though.
I clear my throat. “She’s already enrolled in a few online courses.”
Margaret waves a hand. “That’s not a problem, she can transfer her credits.”
I smile because people are starting to look at us. “Leaving Black Hallows isn’t an option for Eden at this juncture.”
Milton picks his teeth with a kabob stick. “Why not?”
“Because she doesn’t leave the house,” Margaret snaps. “What has it been, Cain? Three, four years now?”
My hands itch with the urge to put them over her mouth. She’s starting to remind me of Karen and I refuse to marry another woman who makes me miserable.
I push my mask up and loosen my bowtie, hoping it will help me breathe easier.
It doesn’t. I feel like the walls are closing in on me.
Milton must sense my irritation and impending cold feet because he says, “Enough about the girl, Margaret.”
“But, Daddy—”
“This pushy behavior is why you’re almost thirty and single.”
Her lower lip trembles. “I’m assertive. There�
�s nothing wrong with that.”
“You nag,” Milton snaps. “Men don’t like it.”
Blinking back tears, she inhales sharply. “I’m sorry, Cain. This was the wrong time and place to bring it up.” She holds the mask over her face. “It is a party after all.”
Milton’s eyes meet mine, no doubt wondering if her apology eased my nerves.
Not that it would matter if it didn’t. Like all good politicians, he’s giving me the illusion of control.
At the end of the day, we both know I need him way more than he needs me. He can find another aspiring politician to marry his daughter tomorrow. But I can’t find someone with the same connections he has.
Or someone people admire and hold in such high regard. The man is a legend in the industry because he’s earned the respect of both parties, regardless of his own views.
He’s also donated a shitload of money to my campaign, and without that, I’d have nothing.
Reminding myself of all I have riding on this and what I can’t afford to lose, I nod.
“It’s fine.” I fix my mask and adjust my bowtie. “I’ll get a few college brochures and approach Eden about it after the election is over. Maybe she’ll be open to it after she does some research.”
Milton and Margaret exchange smiles. Milton might be tough on his daughter, but everyone knows she’s the one who has him wrapped around her finger.
“Sounds like a fine idea.” Milton raises his glass. “You’re gonna go far, Cain. Your father would be proud.”
The room sways a little. “Thank you.” I look at Margaret. “What do you say we put this argument behind us and dance?”
She takes the hand I’m holding out to her. “That would be lovely.” She waves to Milton. “See you in a bit, Daddy.”
He winks at me. “I’m going to talk to Judge Kennedy. Last I heard he’s voting for your opponent, but we go way back so I have a feeling I can change his mind. He may even make a contribution to the cause.”
“That would be amazing. Thank you, sir.”
“Will that be before or after he locks you up?” a voice sneers behind me.
An ugly feeling crawls up my gut, and when I turn around, I know what—or rather who—is responsible for it. “Hello, Katrina.”
