They don’t match his smile, those eyes. His smile says that everything is okay, but that gaze of his is too full of shadows and heartbreak. Cal takes a step forward and pauses, grimacing as he reaches out to put a palm on the wall, steadying himself.
“Work out too hard?” I ask, and he grins.
“More like … some injuries just don’t heal right,” he says as I study him for a moment. Aaron’s transformation from good boy to bad was pretty goddamn dramatic, but I think Cal’s might be worse. He was always small and shy, huddling up next to Vic on the playground. But whoever that Callum Park was, he’s gone now. In his place, there’s an entire person made of up secrets and shadows.
I bite my lower lip for a moment, inhaling and finding Cal’s talc and aftershave scent mixed with the fresh bite of sweat. Why is it so hot when guys have that fresh sweat smell? I mean, after a while, sure, it’s not so sexy anymore, but when they’re warm and that tattooed skin is moist …
I shake my hands out, and Callum’s smile turns into a grin.
“Did you really get throat punched by a member of a rival gang?” I ask, and one of Cal’s blond brows goes up before he laughs, that smoky chuckle making me shiver.
“Nah. No chance I’m letting some gang banging asshole touch my throat.” Callum draws a line across his neck with a blue-painted fingernail. Pretty sure that’s his favorite color. He chuckles again and shakes his head. But from what I can remember, his voice used to be this angelic whisper. I get that he’s gone through puberty since, but still, that voice of his is so husky and dark. Something must’ve happened. He taps his fingers against the side of his neck. “Is that the rumor going around Prescott?” I shrug. We both know that it is. Cal leans in and puts his mouth near my ear, the soft, pink curve of his lower lip brushing against my lobe. “You don’t like my voice?” he asks, that husky sound curling around me like smoke.
“I love it, actually,” I say, turning so that his mouth brushes my cheek and we’re staring right at each other. Cal barely talks to me, but not like how Aaron ignores me. It’s obvious Aaron is avoiding me, and we both know why that is. But Callum … he may as well be a stranger.
“Sometimes pain is pretty, to the people who have too much of it,” he tells me, and then kisses me on the cheek. “You’re gorgeous, by the way.” Cal pulls back and heads up the stairs toward the bathroom, leaving me gaping after him and trying to figure out what that last comment just meant.
Pain is pretty. And I’m made of it.
Hael appears from the direction of the laundry room a moment later, reeking of marijuana and soaked in sweat. He grabs two beers from the fridge, offers one up to me, and then leans against the counter, the bare skin of his arms covered in little green pot leaves.
“Trimming is simple work but tedious work, fuck my life,” he groans, downing the beer. I'm not a hundred percent sure what, exactly, trimming is. I take it to mean he's trimming pot leaves off the plant.
“Why are they so … sticky?” I ask as I move over to him, peeling one off of his bicep and finding that even that simple touch between us ignites that fire in my body.
“Dunno, science-y shit. More crystals and terpenes or something. Now you know why good weed's called sticky-icky, huh?” Hael pauses as Aaron comes out of the laundry room, closing the door behind him. There's a bathroom just off of it, and on the other side a door to a poorly converted garage. I mean, there's drywall in there and a carpet over the cement, but it's cold as hell and still feels like a garage. I remember because Aaron and I used to fuck in there sometimes.
He sees me there with my fingers still resting on Hael's arm, and it's like every emotion in his face goes dark all at once.
“I'm gonna shower.”
“Cal's in there,” I say and Aaron groans, grabbing a beer and then slumping to the floor of the kitchen. It smells like pot so bad in here. I wonder if the neighbors can smell us down the block? I wouldn't be surprised. Good thing weed's legal in Oregon now, although I imagine the boys are growing and selling it in illegal ways …
I draw my hand back from Hael, and I refuse to think about his dick in my mouth, or me riding him in his Camaro … Fuck. So much for that. It’s all I can think about now.
Victor appears in the doorway to the kitchen as if summoned, this dark shadow that makes me shiver. I don't look at him, sipping my beer and keeping my attention on the cabinets instead.
“Are you done?” he asks them, and the boys nod. “Good. We'll drop most of the product off tomorrow and keep the rest here for emergencies.” He glances my way, maybe noticing the way Hael and I are leaning into each other. I refuse to meet his gaze until he talks to me like a goddamn adult.
“Shower's free!” Callum calls down the stairs, and Aaron groans, rising to his feet and flicking a glance over at Hael.
“Mind if I go first?”
“Have at it,” Hael says, and he, on the other hand, has no problem looking right at Vic. I glance back and find that Oscar's gone, leaving the three of us alone in the dark kitchen. The only light comes from the cracked door of the fridge. “Are you finally going to say it aloud? You know Bernadette and I fucked in my car. And we gave each other head in Vaughn's office. You know fucking everything, so why not just say what you're thinking and get it over with? Because both Bernadette and I don't get it. Isn't this part of why she's here? To be our girl? Our girl? Or is she just your girl then?”
Victor stiffens up, and I finally gather the courage to glance his way. His jaw is clenched, but he isn't saying anything. Instead, he just slides his dark gaze from Hael and over to me.
“Did you like it?” he asks, and there are so many shadows in his face that I can barely make out his expression. “Screwing Hael in that pretty car of his?”
“You're the one that told me to do it,” I snap back, realizing that I'm already shaking. He's doing it to me again, melting that frigid core inside of my heart and releasing a torrent of emotions that are impossible to make sense of. “You practically commanded me to fuck him.”
Vic laughs, but the sound is dark, foreign. It puts this gap between us, a yawning chasm that can never close.
“You're right, I did,” he says, and then shakes his head, raking his fingers through his hair. “You could barely stand letting me touch you, but the look on your face when you were riding him … Well, shit, Hael must be as good as all the sluts at Fuller High say he is.”
“You were watching us?” I grind out, but I'm full of shit because I knew he was. I knew it. And I wanted him to watch. “And don't call them sluts. If anyone's a slut, it's Hael.”
“I'm still standing here,” he snaps, sounding irritated. “Do you two want me to leave so you can anger fuck each other on the kitchen counter?”
“I want you two in the master bedroom,” Vic commands, tearing himself away from my gaze and heading for the hallway. “Now.”
“This is insane,” Hael growls out, scrubbing at his face with his hand. He glances over at me. “You didn't like him touching you?”
“That wasn't what happened,” I reply, feeling the layers of my anger crack and break apart.
When Vic touches me, my shields fall away, and I can't breathe. When he touches me, all I can think about is how I want him to touch me more. When he's not around, all I think about is how to get him back.
It's an obsession I've had for years.
Victor Channing, my dark, little secret want.
“Huh.” Hael sets his beer aside and stands up, offering out a hand for me to take. I do, letting him pull me to my feet, and then carefully extracting my fingers from his. We head down the hall together, one of my palms pressed into my stomach, trying to quiet the sudden rush of nervous energy that's percolating through me.
Vic is waiting in a chair near the window, the only light in the room from a single lamp on the table beside him. His hair looks more purple than black right now, an aubergine color that really suits the slightly tan color of his skin. His irises are a deep brown, but, like
they often do, they seem black.
The knuckles of one tattooed hand are curled against the side of his face while he rubs a thumb along the side of his phone with the other.
“Take a seat on the bed,” he says, and Hael and I exchange a glance.
“What's this all about?” Hael asks, and Vic looks up at him, the anger gone from his face, replaced with something else I can't quite figure out. “What are you doing, bro?”
“Sit down,” Vic repeats, and there's this tense moment there where Hael has to decide what he wants to do: listen to the boss of the Havoc Boys or make a statement. Teeth clenched, Hael sits down on the edge of the bed, and I perch beside him. Victor turns to me.
“Do it,” he commands. He holds up his phone, and I can tell by the light that he’s just started recording. His mouth curves to the side in a cruel smirk. “Fuck my best friend while I watch.”
I glance over at Hael to gauge his reaction and find him with a wicked smile on his face.
Victor is … going to film us. He’s going to watch.
Hael might not get it, but I do.
Victor really is still pissed, even if he doesn't look it.
I turn back toward him, but all he does is lift a dark brow in question. This is another challenge from him.
“Well? You said you wanted this, didn't you, Bernadette? To do your duties? Here's your opportunity. Do you know why we wanted a Havoc Girl in the first place?” Vic is taunting me now, and I can feel my hands curling into tight fists. “Because we didn't want a girl to come between us. So now we're going to share you.”
I open my mouth to say something, but what's the point?
Vic wants to be an asshole? I can be one, too.
Instead of responding the way I want—I'd love to chuck something at his perfect face right now—I turn toward Hael instead, heart thundering.
“Here,” Vic says before I can even get started, chucking some condoms at us that he pulls from his jeans pocket. “Wouldn't want to make the same mistake with Hael that you made with me.”
“Definitely not,” I grind out, snatching one up and turning back to Hael. He's got a cocky smile on his face, like maybe this is all fun and games to him. Fucking is like an Olympic sport to this asshole anyway, so why am I not surprised?
Hael takes the condom and tucks it into his pocket, scooting back on the bed and then pulling me up with him. He rolls us over so that I'm on my back and he's hovering over me, that coconut scent of his enveloping me and mixing with the fresh scent of weed, protecting me from the dark influence of Victor Channing, his voyeuristic ass sitting in the corner.
I should question him, ask him what he's filming us for, but I know he won't post it anywhere. Vic is too selfish for that. This is all for him.
Hael seems to sense that I don't want to be kissed, moving those hot lips of his to my neck. As soon as he makes contact with my throat, I sigh, my back arching up off the bed. His right hand slides up and under my shirt, heating my skin to unbearable temperatures.
He's watching, I remind myself, but that doesn't make the moment less hot. It amps up the tension, and I find myself squirming, wishing Hael would move his hand between my thighs to satisfy that deep ache in my core.
“Not so fast, Blackbird,” he purrs, grabbing my wrist when my fingers drop to the waistband of his jeans. He pins it above my head and runs his hot tongue down the curve of my neck, tasting my pulse. “Vic wants a show, not a sprint. Let's give him a proper performance, shall we?”
My fingers curl in Hael's bloodred hair as he kisses his way down my throat, my fingers teasing over his sweaty neck and down his arms. His muscles are trembling slightly from all the work he put in today, but that just makes it even hotter. I can feel every jump of his pulse when I rest my fingers on the side of his throat.
He moves suddenly, surprising me by biting the hardened point of my nipple through my shirt and drawing a long groan from me. His coconut and leather scent is still there, but it lingers under the heavy, sweet scent of weed.
My fingers tease down Hael's rounded biceps and pick some of the sticky leaves off his skin as he works my breast with his mouth, drawing all that lust and need from my core into my chest. My nipples ache as Hael runs his hand up and under my shirt, palming one of the smooth mounds as he kneads the flesh with strong fingers. My eyes find Victor's, his phone in his right hand while his left sits easily on the arm of the chair.
You want me, I think as Hael lifts my shirt up, uncovering my breasts, and moves back in with that strong, hot mouth of his. And you hate that your best friend's mouth is on my tits. You hate it because you wish it was yours.
My fingers dig into Hael's hair, and I draw his mouth up to mine.
If I kiss him, it'll destroy Vic. He'll snap. I want to see that, what he does when he comes undone. Before I can think too hard about it, I move in and press my lips to Hael's. He's already a step ahead of me, taking over the interaction with the hot, wild heat of his tongue, chasing my own with strong, possessive strokes.
A strange feeling scatters through me, like shooting stars, taking over my whole body as we adjust ourselves, and I end up in his lap. My arms cross together behind Hael's strong neck as I taste the sweat on his lips from a hard day's work.
Shit.
Kissing him is doing all sorts of strange things to me, like I knew I should have never done this in the first place. Kissing someone opens up your soul to theirs, lets you taste their essence in a way that just doesn't come across with sex. And now that I've tasted Hael properly, I sort of … like him?
Victor fades away in my awareness as I grind my hips against the hard bulge in Hael's jeans, and his inked hands drop down to cup my ass. He kneads my flesh as I work my body against his, finding this sweet spot where pleasure teases my clit with every forward thrust. With Hael touching my ass, and his hard, hot body beneath mine, it doesn't take me long to work myself to a climax.
“Oh, yeah, baby, you know where it's at,” Hael growls against my ear as he bites my lower lip and groans as I gasp and shudder in his arms, the violent grinding motion of my hips slowing as that unbearable pleasure unfurls inside of me like a lightning strike. Pretty sure I've soaked my panties and shorts straight through. “Fuck.”
Hael flips me over and then tears my shorts and underwear off, chucking them aside as he leans down to kiss my mouth and struggles with his belt buckle at the same time. I help him free his cock, the long, hard length of him hot and pulsing in my hand. We eat at each other's mouths, totally and completely forgetting that we're being filmed—that we're being watched.
My eyes flick back to find Vic's. His gaze has darkened a dozen shades, turning those dark brown eyes of his into an endless ebon black while his left hand grips his cock in tight fingers. He strokes himself while he watches us, jaw clenched tight, the phone still locked onto our sweaty, tangled bodies.
My fingers tease Hael's dick, my thumb sliding over the bead of pre-cum at the tip and working him until he's panting and thrusting into my hand. He snatches my wrists again and pins both above my head, reaching down to guide the head of his shaft to the molten heat throbbing between my thighs.
“Condom,” Vic barks out, and I grit my teeth. He can't remember when he's fucking me, but he has enough sense to boss his friend around?
There's a knock at the door, but whoever's on the other side doesn't bother to try the knob. Not that it would matter, since it's already locked.
“Vic, are you in there?” It's Aaron.
“Yeah, but fuck off, I'm busy right now.” Victor chucks another condom our way and Hael catches it, cursing as he pulls it out and slides the wet latex over his dick. He doesn't hesitate before he comes down on top of me again, honey-brown eyes dark with need. This time, though, he doesn't hold me like he's trying to piss somebody else off; he holds me like he's glad it's me in his inked hands.
“I want to see your tits bounce while I fuck you,” he growls out, tearing my shirt off and tossing it aside. Hael skims his h
ands over my body, teasing my inked flesh with reverent fingers. He smirks at me, and then grips my hip with one hand, using the other to position himself. “Okay, Havoc Girl, let's see what you've got.” Hael thrusts hard and deep, making me cry out as I throw my head back into the pillows. One of my hands reaches between us to touch my clit as he slams into me, bruising my body with the frenzy of his.
When he leans down to kiss me, I rake my nails along his biceps, feeling the ragged line of the scar on his right arm. His warm breath teases my lips as he kisses me again, his mouth firm but gentle while his hips are absolutely brutal.
We've barely been going ten minutes before I'm crying out again.
“Oh, god, don't stop, baby,” I groan, tugging on Hael's hair as he kisses along the side of my neck. He bites me, too, but it doesn't hurt. Instead, it just draws another orgasm from me, my cunt pulsing along the length of his cock. “No, no, no, no,” I whisper, holding him to me. “Don't stop.”
“No chance in hell,” Hael says, sweat dripping from his body and onto mine. Tiny little green marijuana leaves are stuck all over my skin, but when I breathe deep, all I smell is sex and coconut oil. Fuck, Hael Harbin is good.
“That's enough.” Vic's cold, hard voice slashes through the heat in the room like a knife, making me groan as Hael pauses, and the delicious rhythm he'd been nurturing in my body subsides. My orgasm flickers on the fringes of my consciousness as Hael glances back at his friend.
“What?” he asks, sounding like he wants to punch something.
“I said that's enough,” Vic repeats, his gaze so dark it almost hurts to look at him. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, the muscles in his arms so taut that I can see his veins. He's put the phone down, and his pants are back on and zipped up. “Get off of her.”
Hael's eyes widen, and I feel his body go tense between my spread legs.
Havoc at Prescott High Page 24
