by Eden O'Neill
I wasted more.
I took my own bottle, intentionally throwing it at the door where a glass window resided. The beer didn’t shatter this time. It went right through the window, glass literally busting out as the bottle disappeared inside the dark home.
I went for the last bottle of beer in the case, but Dorian grabbed my arm. His fingers bit into my flesh when he jerked me roughly around to face him.
“The fuck you think you’re doing?” His eyes expanded, completely wild. “What are you—”
“Don’t you want to get a hit in?”
“What?”
I ripped my arm away. “I said, don’t you want to get a hit in?” I directed a finger toward that house. “That house should burn. Fuck, worse should happen to it.”
His family died in there. Mayberry hooked up with his family here, and had I been him, I’d want to set this whole place on fire.
“Don’t you want to destroy this place, Dorian? Get a hit in for Charlie?” I picked up the bottle, holding it out. “No one would blame you. Least of all me.”
Maybe I was crazy. Maybe I was as psycho as he said. He didn’t take the bottle, and I reared back again. I was about to fuck up this place for him.
He didn’t let me.
He took the bottle, his hand folding around my hand on it. We stood level to level, eye to eye despite him having a few inches. The dark prince was tall, but I was tall too.
He tugged me closer by the bottle, his fingers squeezing mine.
“I want to get a hit in,” he breathed over my mouth. I felt the mint of his breath despite how much booze he drank. He just always seemed to have it.
He let go of me slowly, taking the bottle with him.
His football arm gave him an advantage.
Dorian threw that bottle so hard one of the glass walls busted out, and the house alarm blasted through the air.
He didn’t care.
He got another bottle, empty this time and threw the thing steadfast through another window on the door. The rest of the empty bottles joined it, glass exploding everywhere, and when he didn’t have those, he went for the rock work around the hedges.
He threw large stones, his own personal form of a football pelting through glass. Windows exploded, property damaged. Dorian’s expression transformed into a million different shades of unfurled rage, and I simply stood there, watching the display.
I should be horrified by what I’d done, by what I’d caused him to do. I mean, someone was probably coming from somewhere eventually with that alarm going off. It’d probably take a moment since this neighborhood was out in the boonies, but still.
I didn’t run despite the chaos. I wasn’t horrified. I merely watched as a tortured boy let out his anger in the only way he could.
Dorian threw until he was spent. Until his body sagged and labored so harshly I thought he’d fall to his knees. That was when I approached him.
That was also when he grabbed me.
Dorian gripped the back of my neck and collided our mouths, the kiss harsh and angry.
And so familiar.
He kissed me the same way he had the first time. The kiss was impulsive, untamed.
Wild.
It was like him, my arms ensnared around his neck. I deepened the kiss as he pressed my body against him.
Sirens rang in our ears.
The cops were coming from somewhere in the hills, but we didn’t react how a normal person would. Sure, we ran. Dorian grabbed my hand. He dragged me to his car, but the whole time, he laughed.
We both did.
We looked like two crazy people getting into his car. He waved me to hurry, his laughter boisterous and jovial. He laughed like he wasn’t a broken boy, but a teenager who simply didn’t want to get caught.
I was simply the girl going along for the ride.
He had his arm around my neck, as he peeled off, and his laughter didn’t stop. I didn’t ask him where we were going.
I didn’t care.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Dorian
I slammed my cock inside her the moment we were in her bedroom, the closet place I could think of to fuck this girl.
She hadn’t complained.
Sloane proved once again to be the complete and utter head fuck she’d always been, but this time, I didn’t fight it.
I just dove right in.
I roared at her taste, not even bothering to keep it down. Bru’s car hadn’t been in the garage, and Sloane said he’d probably gone to get takeout or something.
Her shorts had been down to her ankles barely after getting into the house.
Currently, her cutoffs hung off one leg, this girl between my arms against her bedroom door. I fucked her right there, our hands laced, our mouths hot and our tongues dueling. I thrust in a slow fuck, and she called out.
Her brother was going to hear this shit when he got home.
I didn’t care. Pulling out, I turned her around by her hair. I jerked off her fucking shirt, then ripped her bra clean off.
She was grinning when she faced me, her tits flushed and perfect for my hands. She wrapped one of those long legs around me, and in a quick maneuver, she was physically putting me back inside her. What the fuck?
“Fuck me, Dorian,” she said, eye contact completely on me, and it was a wonder I didn’t come like this was my first goddamn time. Noa Sloane was an experience.
I gripped her throat, slowing down on purpose. She didn’t control this. I was going to fuck this girl as long and as hard as I wanted to. She wouldn’t control this.
Even if she already was.
“I own you.” I arched in a hard thrust, my cock disappearing inside her. Hard in. Slow out. I watched, then made her when I gripped her hair in my fist and directed her gaze down. I grinned. “That’s me owning you. That’s my dick you scream for.”
She made me fucking mad tonight, doing things I was embarrassed I hadn’t thought to do first. She’d made me look like a punk bitch at Mayberry’s old place.
And if I didn’t want to make her come for that.
If I didn’t want to bleed for her after that, the sickest fucking thoughts in my head. I wanted her everywhere, inside her and all around. I didn’t want to just own her. I wanted to be owned by her, and I fucking hated that shit.
Like stated, she was a head fuck.
I dizzied as she bit my lip, and almost buckled at my goddamn knees for it. I held her back by the throat. “Stop.”
So much was loaded in that one word, her eyes on me. Her hips rocked slowly, her hands on my chest.
“Don’t stop,” she said, eyes scanning me. She looked deeply, like she was looking for something when there wasn’t anything to see. I’d told this girl. I had no soul anymore. She placed her hands on my face. “Don’t stop. Stay.”
Stay.
She slow-fucked me right back, her tight snatch squeezing my cock so hard I nearly did come. Growling, I braced her neck and collided our mouths.
“Get out of my head,” I panted, removing her off me and taking her to the bed. She had all this frilly shit around, totally not Noa Sloane.
Why are you talking like you know her?
But this wasn’t Noa. The place had to have been decorated. Noa was a hellcat, dark metals and rough edges in my thoughts for her. She wasn’t into the easy stuff. She liked seeing through stuff for its depth and whatever else was in there. She liked to unravel and unfurl shit she had no business getting into.
I’d told her all my business tonight and hadn’t even hesitated. Wolf had known exactly what he was doing when he called her to come see me.
She was making me do stupid things.
She was making things not hurt as much and my guilt surrounding Charlie numbed. I didn’t feel like I had only hours ago. But even before that, I wasn’t rattled by the brevity of what I’d done this week in nearly the same way.
That happened in only a few moments with her. Noa was making things go away. My own personal Valium.
&
nbsp; Going between her legs, I drank from her heat, my tongue spreading her pussy lips apart. She kicked a leg until we both got her shorts off, her thighs hugging my face to her sex.
“Dorian, holy fuck.” She bit her knuckles, her soft pants amplified in the quiet house. I could fuck her as loud as I wanted to in this room. Shit, the astronauts would hear us.
Grinning, I bit her lower lips into my mouth, salivating when she called out and her sweet heat flooded over my lips. I didn’t even like eating pussy. I’d get my dick sucked any day of the week, though. What could I say, I was a dude.
But Noa…
She tasted like candy, all sin and heaven. She touched herself while I flicked her bud with heated intent. Her perfect tits spilled above her hands.
Yeah, those were my thing.
Leaving her pussy, I laved her nipples, sucking and pulling them. My jeans were half down and my cock was ready for another dive into her heat. I physically ached for her, twitching under my fist as I pumped myself.
“Get naked with me.” She rolled my shirt off, looking like a kid in a candy store. I pulled my hair back, flashing her the eyes after she removed it. She shoved me. I assumed for being arrogant. She rolled her eyes. “Stop it.”
“You fucking stop.” We argued as good as we fucked.
Maybe even better.
After kicking off my jeans and my boxers, I took her lips. I entered her again. It was like being home inside this chick and what the fuck.
“Dorian,” she gasped, gripping my back. “God, Dorian.”
She placed her forehead against my shoulder, her soft skin damp with heat. I gripped the bed while still inside her, driving her into the sheets.
“Scream for me,” I goaded, arching, taking us both to our brink. “Come for me like you’re only mine.”
I could dick punch myself for it. Upon letting go of the bed, our fingers laced and not even a breath could be placed between us now. I owned her in this moment. She was mine.
“Dorian!” I picked up, hoping the condom I put on when we first got in her room would hold. I grunted, roaring into the room when she came around me…
And I wasn’t far behind.
Even still, I milked her, lost in the intense fucking heat that was Noa Sloane. We came down the high at about the same time, but even still, I didn’t let her get out from under me.
I tasted every inch of her, until it wasn’t possible that I’d missed anywhere. Eventually, I had her on her belly, beautiful, luscious skin facing me.
I traced invisible lines between every taste, studying how her dark almost black hair played against her naturally tan skin. This girl made Brazilian models look like amateurs, and I wondered if she maybe had some of that in her bloodline somewhere. Her brother wasn’t tan for shit, but Sloane obviously caught something somewhere in her gene pool. The girl was gorgeous.
And you’re acting like a fool.
I knew this as I was tracing invisible lines on her back between kisses. I stayed on one when she sighed and her entire body shuddered under my touch. She angled her head, looking back at me.
I watched her but didn’t stop playing. I watched her watch me, her gaze roving over my shoulders, my chest. Knowing her, I thought she’d send me to my back and attempt to be the little fighter I knew she was by straddling me.
Instead, she touched my hand, the free hand. Taking it, she tucked herself back into my chest. She hugged me close.
“It was a home break-in,” she said, her voice so soft in this room. She nestled into me. “My mom. She died in a home break-in. I barely remember. I was so young.”
I lay with her, feeling her steady breaths under my arms. I wondered why she admitted that to me.
But then again, I was tracing lines on her back.
In the moment after her words, things got real quiet. Normally, I’d leave right about now. I got what I wanted from her.
“Charlie’s death was my fault,” I said, not sure why I said it. Maybe because she’d admitted what she had to me. I shrugged. “I told him Principal Mayberry hadn’t left her husband. He went to her house after that. Went to run off with her after that.”
Nothing but silence filled the air, and I didn’t know what I expected her to say. Maybe all the things that were in my own head. How it was my fault, how it was my failure. Sloane didn’t hold back.
I hoped she wouldn’t in this case. I wanted her to give it to me good. I wanted to feel the cut of the words.
I deserved them.
“I think you already know the truth, Prinze,” she said, her voice sleepy. She hugged me closer. “But now, you need to make Mayberry tell it.”
I was surprised by what she said, listening.
“The world needs to know the truth,” she continued, playing with my hand. “And you do too. You deserve that.”
I deserve it.
She said nothing else, and I watched as her breaths softened and her eyes fell closed. She was under the belief that I had no stake in what happened, but I knew the truth. I supposed we were both fools. I was for letting her get under my skin.
And she was for allowing a monster into her bed.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Dorian
A text pulled me out of my sleep at Sloane’s. Her long leg curled around me, I had to reach over her just to get my phone off her end table. I’d pulled it out of my jeans before I’d fallen asleep.
Wolf: We have an opportunity with Mayberry.
I sat up, Sloane’s arm falling from my chest.
What the hell?
Wolf had sent this text around midnight. My phone must have buzzed because I missed it.
I chanced that he was up and would see my returned text.
Me: How? When?
Not to mention we still hadn’t secured a van. Wells hadn’t told us anything different about his status with his dad’s vehicles. Since he hadn’t, I assumed the situation was the same. We were up shit creek without any transportation.
Wolf texted back quickly.
Wolf: This morning. Where are you?
I gazed down at Sloane, still sleeping delightfully naked against me.
I touched her cheek like a dumbass, just wanting to touch her.
Why are you so enamored with this girl?
She’d gotten me out of my head last night completely. Leaning against her headboard, I brought her under my arm. I texted Wolf.
Me: I think you know where.
He’d sent her to me apparently, peculiar for Wolf. He didn’t like this girl. Even if he did pick up on the tension between Sloane and me.
Wolf: Okay. Well, yeah, this morning. Thatcher’s hacked into her digital planner. She had a random doctor’s appointment appear last night. It’s scheduled for this AM. We could swipe her before school.
My heart raced.
Me: What about transportation?
Wolf: Wells worked it out. We’re all set.
I could hear the blood pumping in my ears. Opportunity had come and gone for us in the past. It was like the world had been against us. Against me.
Me: Where are you?
Wolf: Arranging everything. This will require us skipping morning classes.
Like I gave a fucking shit. I started to get up, but Wolf texted me back.
Wolf: We’re going to meet at seven.
Me: Where?
Wolf: The location.
I checked the time. Just passed four.
Me: I’m going to head over to you now.
Wolf: You don’t have to. We’re taking care of everything. Just be there at seven.
Me: No, I’m coming.
Wolf: Just stay put. Stay with Sloane. All you have to do is show up. We got you.
They got me.
And stay with Sloane? He didn’t like her.
I started to text back, but he got back to me again.
Wolf: We’ll see you at the location.
The location was an abandoned factory my dad used to run some of his business operations out of. My f
ather had many businesses, many of them spilled over from the days of my grandfather and his father before that. Once Dad took over, he shut down the less efficient ones.
AKA the corrupt ones.
I read all about my father’s legacy growing up. I did because one day it’d be mine. He ran any business the family name was on with pride, no greed, and everyone, man or woman, who worked for him was seen. He treated people as people. He did things the complete opposite of my grandfather.
I’d read about him too.
I’d done a fair amount of research and even more in recent days. I needed to know what I was getting into, who he was and his potential. Going in, I’d been well aware of who my grandfather was when I’d decided to solicit him for his aid.
I just didn’t know it’d pan out the way it had in the end.
Negative thoughts about him actually ended up keeping me in Sloane’s bed for longer than I should have. A greedy motherfucker, I just held on to her, studying her face and wishing things were simpler. That I could be anything else or be anywhere else than the road I was clearly continuing on.
But then I thought about Charlie.
Charlie got me out of that bed. Charlie kept me out of my head. I had to leave Sloane, and I didn’t know when I’d see her again.
Who knew what the hell would happen after today?
I wasn’t thinking, and my buddies weren’t either. We were goal-oriented, and I’d be naive to think they weren’t laboring partially for me. Revenge for Charlie was my cross to bear.
They were simply along for the fucked-up ride.
I expected to help with something surrounding this thing with Mayberry, but when I showed up at the abandoned factory surrounded by cornfields, my buddies were already here.
The van was already here.
I rushed toward the doors, both Wells and Thatcher already there. They had skull masks on, dressed in all black down to their sneakers.
“Wolf’s inside,” Thatcher stated, looking around. His voice was deeper and jumbled up, some kind of scrambler on it. He tipped his chin toward the inside. “He’s waiting for you.”
From behind him, Wells pulled another mask, handing it out to me. Apparently, these two were just the lookout.
