Why am I doing this?
Why am I letting Cole fucking Travis seduce me with his soul-green eyes, gorgeous tousled black hair, and those perfectly chiseled abs hiding behind that leather jacket?
And why does it come so easy?
I thought I was over him, that I was done being his plaything, that I was able to resist temptation after the shame he put me through. He’s a bad boy, a player, a bully someone can hate. And I thought I needed that in order to get over him.
But all those things I thought I needed pale in comparison to how good his kisses feel on my mouth … on my neck … on my chest. And the more he gives me, the more of them I want to keep.
I’m addicted. Like a sinner on drugs, I need his kisses like I need air to breathe. The same air he steals every time he plants his lips on mine and claims them as though I always belonged to him.
“Finally, you give in,” he groans against my lips, making me all hot and bothered.
How am I supposed to resist when he says things like that? I’m so fucking confused by my own emotions, but the whiplash from his are putting me through the wringer, and I can’t get a fucking grip.
My lips unlatch from him to stutter, “But I thought … You didn’t … I wasn’t …”
He places a finger on my mouth, and says, “Stop talking. Stop thinking. Just fucking kiss me.”
When his fingers slide down, and his mouth smashes back onto mine, I lose myself in the moment … to him.
I was always lost to him.
From day one, the moment I saw him play, I knew … it was gonna be him.
It was only a matter of time until I lost my heart to this boy …
A boy I shouldn’t have, can’t have, but a boy whose heart I want nonetheless.
And right now, he wants me too, even if it means nothing to him, even if he only wants my body, right now is all that matters.
Even if I wanted to, I can’t fucking stop, and neither can he.
He’s got his hands all over my body, touching me in places that only turn me on more. His lips turn my mind to mush as his fingers curl around my dress, pushing it up until my panties are exposed. He cups my pussy and makes me clench my legs.
“Fuck … I want you, Monica,” he murmurs against my lips. “Don’t ever say I hate you again.”
“But I do,” I mutter, trying to resist temptation, but it’s too fucking hard when he touches me in all the right places. “I fucking hate you.”
“You say that, but you don’t mean it. Just like me,” he whispers from underneath those beautiful dark lashes. “And I’m done fighting you just to get you to stay away from me.”
That familiar smirk makes my heart flutter with greed.
I’m already lost to him, whether I want to admit it or not.
He’s got me right where he wants me. Trapped between his thick, muscular arms and the wall behind me, I’m longing for his every touch, quaking with need. And without thinking about it, I reach for his pants and unzip them.
He stops kissing me and looks at me intensely for a moment, almost as if he’s gauging my reaction. With his index finger, he briefly caresses my cheek, and my body instinctively leans in to his as he leans in to press a kiss against my collarbone.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” he groans.
Suddenly, he grabs my thighs and lifts me up against the wall, kissing me hard and fast. My arms wrap around his neck as he plants his lips all over mine, leaving red stains of my own lipstick like some sort of victory mark.
He smirks against my skin. “Oh, Monica … You fucked me up so badly. It’s time to return the fucking favor.”
I don’t know whether he means the guitar or his heart.
Either way, I can’t stop him. It’s far too late for that as his hands are already shoved up my dress and he’s pressing his bulge against my pussy. I love how he feels against my body, how he grows thicker with every kiss he gives me, every moan that leaves my mouth.
But the closer he gets to pulling down his pants, the more my legs tense up, and my arms tighten around his neck.
He leans away, looks at me again, and something flickers in his eyes.
“You confuse me so fucking much, do you know that?” he mutters.
My lips part, but I don’t know how to respond or what he even means.
Cole pushes me up against the wall and gives me greedy kisses again, all along my chest. He tugs down my dress far enough until my bra is visible, and then he pulls that down too. The grunts that emanate from his throat set me on fire, and when he grabs my breast and kisses that too, I almost explode.
Yet when his body leans into mine, my legs still want to clench together, even when I tell them in my mind not to.
He inches away again and narrows his eyes.
Just one second.
Then he pulls me away from the wall, still carrying me in his arms with his lips on my skin every other second. “You ruin me, Monica. Fucking ruin me,” he murmurs. “Now lie down and let me give you all the attention you so desperately need.”
Fuck. I hate how he makes it sound as if I’m so pathetic.
But the look in his eyes is anything but someone who feels sorry. Not for me. Not for him. Not for anyone else.
That look … Pure and utter hunger for more.
And it’s so damn sexy that I just go along with it, as he throws me down on the velvety couch and kneels at the edge. He nudges up my skirt and tugs at my panties, tearing them off only to throw them in a corner somewhere. I don’t know because I can’t fucking look away from his hungry eyes as they home in on my body, my pussy.
He bites his bottom lip, then his tongue flicks out to wet that too. And then he dives in like there’s no tomorrow. I gasp, my body arching from the sheer pleasure of feeling his tongue right there on my clit.
He cups my ass with both hands while toying with me in a way that feels like he’s known my body for ages. All the nooks and crannies, all the delicious little spots, he knows just where to hit them right.
Closing my eyes, I struggle to breathe as my heart rate shoots up into the stratosphere. I feel guilty, heinous, for enjoying something so wrong, so evil, yet it feels so damn good that I want more.
More. More!
“Fuck!”
The word slips out before I realize it, and that goddamn infuriating grin spreads across his face again. His tongue dips out, and with the tip, he touches my pussy, his hands moving to my thighs to keep me spread. And I know right then that he’s enjoying every fucking step of the unraveling of Monica Romero.
“Don’t be so greedy, Mo,” he murmurs, planting a kiss on my pussy before he continues to suck me.
I wish I could answer—that I could tell him to fuck off and let me be. That I could get up from this fucking couch and tell him to his face that he’s an asshole for seducing me yet again when I had no fight left in me and had already used up my defenses against him.
That I could stop myself from feeling so guilty for wanting a guy who’s unattainable and out of bounds.
That I could force my body not to enjoy every inch of pleasure he’s giving me right now.
Because damn, he knows how to make me squirm.
“Oh, God,” I moan as he keeps licking me to the point I can barely hold on.
“Cole will do,” he quips, grinning against my skin.
“Shut up,” I retort, trying not to get upset when everything started feeling so good.
“Only if you come for me,” he whispers.
My eyes widen as I look up at him diving between my legs. Did my ears really hear that right? Did he ask me to come?
He keeps licking me and swirling around in my pussy, and I’m finding it hard to breathe, let alone respond to his words. My eyes almost roll into the back of my head from sheer pleasure, and my whole body is heating up.
“Do it … Let me see you come,” he murmurs, digging his fingers into my thighs as though he’s salivating from the mere thought of me falling apart.
&nbs
p; My hands clutch the couch, fingers digging in deep as I grow desperate for more. My mind has completely lost all form of reason, and lust has taken over. All I can think of is his tongue on me, his hands wrapped around my thighs, and the delicious shocks zapping through my body.
“Look at me,” he groans, his tongue still swiveling back and forth.
But when I do, the sheer hunger in his eyes sends me off the edge.
Ecstasy overflows my body, and I fall apart right then and there, causing me to quake underneath him while he laps me up.
My body is still in complete overdrive when he plants slow, delectable kisses all over my thighs, lavishly licking me like a lion.
“How’s that for punishment?” he murmurs.
My eyes widen, and as the orgasm subsides, it finally dawns on me what just happened. What I just let him do to me.
I scoot up on the couch and crawl away from him, shaking my head. “I … You …”
“What?” He raises a bold brow. “Cat got your tongue again?”
My face scrunches up. He caught me again and fucked me up with his tongue like it was easy to him. And for what? Just to mark me down as one of his conquests? Payment for destroying his guitar?
“Fuck you,” I snarl in anger, and I get up from the couch and pat down my dress.
He frowns, looking confused as hell. “That’s not a nice way to say thank you.”
“You tricked me,” I growl.
“Tricked you?” He snorts. “You were the one who destroyed my guitar for attention, remember?”
“I didn’t do it for attention!” I yell back.
I try not to let it get to me, but it’s hard, knowing that he’s managed to make me come twice now without me being able to resist. And that he did it just so he could punish me. To show me that I’m not in control of my own body.
I can’t believe I gave in so easily and that I’ve now become part of the long list of girls that fawned over him.
Pathetic.
I march for the door.
“Where are you going?” he asks, standing up straight, his clearly tented boxer shorts still visible underneath those zipped down pants.
I gulp but force myself to remain focused. “I’m not one of your conquests, Cole.” My heart can’t handle this. “I’m not a toy to some rock star. I can’t fucking do this.”
“But you’re not—”
Suddenly, the door bursts open, and Tristan steps inside. He stops abruptly the moment he spots me standing there in the middle of the room.
“Oh, boy …” he mutters, raising a brow at me, then at Cole, who is still standing there with a boner in his pants like he doesn’t even care. “I did not expect to see … that.”
My cheeks turn strawberry red, and I tuck my hair behind my ear, feeling exposed. “Me neither,” I retort.
“Dude, I just wanted to give you time to cool off. Not so you could bang girls,” Tristan says, passing me by. “And what the fuck happened with your guitar? Why the fuck did you not see this before the concert?”
I glance at Cole over my shoulder, hoping, praying he won’t tell a soul.
Because if those boys realize it was me … if Michael finds out … he might do something much, much worse than Cole ever could.
And for some reason, I feel like he gets that too because the way he looks at me makes me stop in my tracks. His jaw clenches, his eyes flashing disappointment.
“It just fucking happened. And it doesn’t fucking matter anymore,” Cole rasps at Tristan, but he never takes his eyes off me.
A sigh leaves my mouth, but my heart is anything but calm. As I storm out the door, the storm in my heart rages on.
Chapter 25
Cole
I throw the broken guitar on the table in front of my dad’s stack of money. “I need a new one.”
He looks up at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “What the hell did you do to that?”
Well … Monica Romero cut through some strings, but then I threw it in a corner in my rage and broke the rest of it. So I guess I have both of us to blame … or just myself, considering I pushed her to her limits.
“Doesn’t matter. It broke. I need a new one,” I reply.
He snorts. “And you’re gonna work for it, I suppose?”
My nose twitches. “How much?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Dollars?” I frown. No way he’d settle for that.
“Twenty-five hundred,” he says.
I almost choke on my own tongue. “Fuck, no.”
I’m not gonna sell twenty-five hundred dollars’ worth of drugs. No fucking way.
“Fine, you don’t wanna work for me?” He leans back in his chair. “You’re a big famous celebrity now, aren’t you? You can play some concerts.”
“I can’t play without a guitar,” I growl.
“Well then, guess you’ll have to use your savings,” he jests.
“That’s literally all we have, and it would all be gone then.” I grind my teeth. “Can’t you help us a little bit?”
He cocks his head and shrugs. “Depends on whether you’re finally going to help our family business too.”
My eyes narrow, and I grab the broken guitar and march off. “Forget it.”
He scoots his chair back and gets up. “Wait a minute.”
“For what?” I bark, pausing to hear what he has to say.
“Don’t you talk to me like that.” He points his finger at me as though it adds more weight to his words. “I’m your father, show some damn respect.”
“You mean the same respect you give my high school classmates when you get them addicted to coke and meth?” I growl.
He slams his fist on the table. “Don’t you fucking dare look down on me and my business.”
“Whatever. I don’t want any part in it,” I reply, and I quickly walk off before he has more to say. I guess the time when he’d help me get on my feet are over. I’m on my own now.
“You want to earn money? The right way?” my father barks as he walks after me.
I pause halfway across the stairs while he stares up at me from the bottom.
He sighs out loud. “Your mother and I are going on a trip. We’re leaving in a few hours. Clean the house and hire a new maid and gardener today. The old ones quit.”
Of course they quit. Once they find out how my father earns the money they get paid with, they always do. No one wants to get anywhere near that, and he knows. I’m surprised the cops haven’t landed on his doorstep yet, but it’s only a matter of time.
“I’ll give you fifteen hundred. You can fork up the rest yourself,” he adds.
I mull it over for a second. If this means I get to keep part of my savings, I’m still out of this house quicker than I would be if I didn’t accept his deal. “Fine,” I reply. “Anything else?”
“Yeah … This place better be squeaky clean when your mother and I get back.”
I sigh and walk farther upstairs. “Yeah, yeah, got it.”
“No maid will clean the entire house in a day, Cole! Better get on your knees and do the work yourself!”
“I heard you!” I retort, slamming my door shut before he tries to order me around.
God, I wish I didn’t have the emotional range of a bull on steroids, but here we are. Sometimes I let out my rage in a bad way and only end up hurting myself in the process.
I caress my guitar. “Should’ve treated you better.”
We’ve been through so much together, but I guess every journey comes to an end. I just never expected it to be by my own doing.
But what surprises me the most is how quickly I overcame that anger the moment I realized Monica only did it to get back at me. I guess it’s true what they say about scorned women … never get in their way.
I learned the hard way.
And boy … was it hard. Hard to stay the fuck away from her.
Damn. It’s only been a few days since the concert, but I can’t get her out of my mind. Every time I look into he
r eyes, I want to grab her and kiss her until she’s breathless, until her body vibrates against mine, until she begs me to touch her. But I never wait until she does. I always pounce like a lion on its prey. It’s like I can’t get enough.
There’s something about that girl … something that makes me forget everything I was doing, everything I ever knew, and all I can think about is making her mine.
And I know she feels that same electricity pulling us together. The attraction between us is undeniable, so the only question is, why are we both fighting it?
It’s almost as if I’m afraid to get closer, afraid to fuck her up if I do.
But why do I care so much?
Has she already gotten under my skin?
I throw my guitar on the bed beside me and grab my phone. There’s no other way to find out what it is that I’m feeling than to get close again. That primal hunger that I felt when she wrapped her legs around my waist and I wanted to shove my cock into her wet pussy and lick up her juices until she came … that’s something I’ve never felt before.
Lust? Yes. But this need that pulses deep down in my heart? That’s new.
Maybe that’s the reason I’ve been pushing her away for so long, why I kept her at arm’s length, why I teased her until she had enough.
If she didn’t hate me, would I be able to handle it?
Because she isn’t just a fan I sleep with.
She never was.
I swallow and close my eyes. I told myself I would let nothing distract me from my goal, not even girls. They were merely toys to fuck, then discard when I was finished with them.
But for some reason, I can’t do the same with Monica, and that pisses me off.
And now I’ve even managed to piss her off as well.
I shake my head to myself and fish my phone from my pocket. I need to practice and earn some of that money for my new guitar, but my parents are gone, so who will notice whether I clean the house now … or tomorrow?
So I text my band.
Cole: House is empty tonight. Wanna come over?
Tristan: Fuck yeah
Benji: Course.
Rowdy Boy (A High School Bully Romance): Black Mountain Academy Page 18
