by Danae Ayusso
Ew.
I smacked him and he chuckled.
“What time is it?” I asked, sitting up. “Did I fall asleep?”
Again, Draven shrugged. “It’s only six. I got tired of listening to your cell phone vibrate across the floor so I answered it.”
That didn’t tell me why he was in my room, I don’t think… Or maybe it did in a roundabout way.
“I talked to De’Von since you didn’t call him like you promised. After the tenth time he called, I answered. That little brat has a mouth on him. Your parenting is simply criminal, Training Bra.”
Instead of arguing with him, I nodded my agreement.
“I know. Where’s Price?”
Draven made a face.
“What? What’s wrong?” I demanded, panicking.
“Usually when I’m in a girl’s bed she doesn’t ask where her father is,” he informed me. “Sometimes they call me daddy, but that always creeps me out. That incestuous southern bang your daughter thing doesn’t appeal to Winnie.”
“Uh, good to know?” I said, not sure what to say in regards to that.
I’ll admit, a part of me is happy to know he isn’t entirely disgusting when it comes to his sexual deviancy.
“Ton père is talking to ton oncle Gregory in the library,” Draven explained when I started to get off the bed, causing me to stop. “They are arguing right now. You gave ton père a bit of a scare when you passed out. I think it was exhaustion. At least that was the professional opinion of the one with a PhD. Did you want dinner?”
I looked from him then around my room again.
“Training Bra?” he asked, appearing on the other side of me. “Are you with me, Training Bra?”
I nodded. “Always,” I automatically responded. “Why are you here? You had a date.”
“I did,” he agreed. “She was a terrible lay, couldn’t keep Winnie entertained or hard for longer than a sloshy moment. Sometimes I wonder why I bother with virgins like I do.”
“Because they don’t know any better and believe you when you assure them it’s supposed to be that small and over so quickly,” I said, getting to my feet.
A smile filled his face. “Ooh, the games we play, Training Bra,” he mused, stretching out on the bed.
I flipped him off as I headed into the closet to get a sweater since mine was mysteriously missing. I wouldn’t put it past Draven to partially undress me when unconscious. He is, after all, a man whore.
“That doesn’t match.”
I jumped, startled, and dropped the red hoodie I was about to put on.
Draven was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, watching me.
“Get out of my room,” I said, pointing.
“No,” he said, heading into the closet and I retreated away from him, backing myself up against one of the built in burrows. He walked past me then started flipping through a rack of dresses.
Where in the hell did dresses come from?
Looking around my closet, I finally noticed all of the unopened boxes were gone and the shelves were all overflowing with folded clothes, shoes, the racks were filled with hung sweaters, dresses, jackets, and shirts.
No one needs this many clothes, no one.
By the looks of it, this is just the end of summer and fall wardrobe.
I am not looking forward to what they think they’ll put me in for the winter.
“Don’t look so scared, Training Bra,” Draven scolded, holding up a dress.
“I’m not scared of a closet filled with more clothes than any one person needs,” I snapped at him then made a face. “Damn it.”
He chuckled. “Now I know what your problem is, one that you’ll simply have to deal with.”
Asshole.
I hate how effortlessly he causes me to slip.
“I’m not wearing a dress,” I informed him. “What’s wrong with what I have on?”
Draven looked me over. “Nothing, but Greg will most certainly have something rude to say in regards to the length of your shorts, or lack thereof. Personally, I don’t mind the amount of leg you’re showing,” he said, heading towards me. “If you must know, I rather enjoy it when you pull your knees to your chest because it causes your shorts to seemingly disappear and your white lace panties tease the eye and cock as to what they are hiding.”
He stopped in front of me, his chest nearly pressing against mine, and I had to look up to maintain eye contact with him.
“Oh how the male population of Anaconda High enjoyed the little show your teeny, tiny shorts were giving them,” he said with a smirk, his eyes moving over my face. “Admit it, Training Bra. You wore that outfit on purpose simply to torture mine and every other cock in that building, didn’t you?”
I shook my head.
“Liar,” he mused before pulling my beanie off then dropped it to the floor.
He is too close. Way too close for my liking…
Justice, where are you? Please push him away from me, knee him in the balls, punch him in the face or something… Get him away from me before I do something stupid!
Draven pulled his fingers through my hair and a small smile pulled at the corners of his full lips.
“What?” I squeaked.
“You are adorable when trying to play tigress when you are nothing more than little kitten without her big girl claws.”
I glared at him. “Keep toying with this kitten and she’ll scratch your eyes out,” I warned and shoved him, trying to push him back but he was unmoving stone.
“Adorable,” he cooed, cupping the back of my head and pulled me into him even more, lowering his face down to mine as he did.
My eyes were wide in surprise as his lips caressed mine.
Softly he moaned and pushed against me even more, forcing me back against the burrow, the entire length of his body pressing against mine, and a rather sizeable part of him apparently enjoyed it.
“Get off of me,” I hissed against his lips. “My family is in the house, my father is in the house,” I reminded him.
The tip of his tongue caressed along the seam of my lips so I nipped it with my front teeth and he hissed, his large hand knotting in the back of my hair.
“Someone’s being naughty,” he warned, his eyes solid black.
“And someone needs to respect boundaries,” I retorted before pulling my tongue across his lips.
Draven smirked before smashing his mouth into mine.
Unable to stop myself, my lips parted and my tongue sought his.
Draven’s tongue wrapped around mine, and I wanted to bite it, to bite him again, but I didn’t. Instead, I knotted my hands in his hair, and kissed him back as passionately as he was kissing me. One of his long slender hands slid up the length of my thigh before slipping in the leg of my shorts and he cupped my ass. The other hand twisted the handful of hair he had causing me to knot the handfuls of hair I had in return.
It is constantly a battle of wills between us, I swear.
Why am I kissing him back?
It makes no sense!
It isn’t entirely repulsive, and the usual anxiety attack that normally accompanies such violations of space was notably absent, as was Justice.
This is the second time today that Draven Van Zul has kissed me, only this time I don’t think it’s with the intention of seeing my mask of the damned.
The muscular jerk effortlessly lifted me up by my ass, our battling lips never slowed as he hoisted me up so we were eye to eye.
This is wrong.
I know it’s wrong.
But it feels slightly right.
No, wrong!
And I should make him stop.
I should stop.
With that said, why can’t I stop kissing him?
I pulled my nails down the back of his neck and he hissed against my mouth, making me smile. Inflicting any pain on this annoying creature is worth what tiny bit of dignity I’ve lost in this little lapse in judgment.
Draven worke
d his mouth down the length of my neck, softly nibbling and kissing as he went, the tip of his tongue caressing my skin more than once.
Oh shit.
This isn’t good.
“Stop,” I panted.
To my surprise, Draven immediately stopped and leaned back, his eyes moving over my face many times.
That wasn’t what I expected him to do.
“Why’d you stop?” I blurted out, confused by the look on his face.
“Because you said stop,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Honestly, Training Bra, you are one of the single most complicated creatures I have ever met,” he said. “Sometimes I just want to…” his words trailed off and he wrapped his hands around my neck and squeezed slightly. It wasn’t enough to strangle me, it was merely a reminder of what he wanted to do most of the time, and it made me giggle.
“Yes, I hear that often,” I admitted. “But a second degree felony assault usually isn’t involved.”
He sighed, shaking his head. “No, I suppose it is not. I’m sure the blue balls isn’t usually involved either,” he complained, carrying me over to the burrow on the far side of the closet.
Yes, I’ll admit his strength is beyond sexy. Without effort, he held me up with one hand on my ass, my legs were wrapped around his strong waist, and I was doing my damnedest to ignore Winnie. To my surprise, he wasn’t sliding me down more so I was straddling his erection. Instead, it was as if he was keeping me away from it.
I’m sure it wasn’t intentional, but if it was, it’s really considerate, especially for someone with the issues I have when it comes to personal space and intimacy.
“I don’t want to wear a dress,” I said when he started flipping through a rack of them.
“Why?” he asked, not bothering to look at me.
“It’s just dinner, Man Whore. We’re not going out, it’s getting late, and don’t you have a curfew or something?”
He looked over at me from the corner of his eye. “Why would you assume that?”
“Because you always take off before it gets dark,” I said, as if that was obvious.
Of course, he made a face but didn’t answer me.
“What do you want to wear?” Draven asked.
“Leggings and a tank top with a sweater is fine,” I said. “Because I’m so skinny, I’m usually cold. I like all the sweaters Kieran got me.”
Again, he looked around the closet before looking at me. “Yes, I suppose you would be cold since you have no fat on your body.” He squeezed my flat ass as if to reiterate it.
“Hey!” I complained, smacking him and he smiled. “It isn’t my fault,” I informed him and watched as he moved around with me wrapped around him, snooping through each drawer, pulling out what he wanted me to wear. “In Philly I didn’t have the best diet in the world and was always running. Grams is adamant that she’ll get me fattened up by winter… I hope that isn’t for some twisted backwoods reenactment of a fairy tale though, otherwise I’m going to be pissed.”
Draven chuckled, shaking his head. “Ellie makes it her mission to fatten each of her youngins’ up.”
I roared with laughter.
Never have I heard anything so smug in my life.
He smiled, carrying me back into the bedroom then sat me on the bed before unwrapping my legs from around his waist. “Here you go. Leggings, extra-long, fitted long sleeve Henley, beanie, and some slouch cable knit socks… They go over the leggings.”
It looked comfortable.
“My gaydar is tingling,” I dryly informed him, looking at the outfit.
“Moi?” Draven asked, offended. “I am merely French,” he said with a thick accent and heavy gay lisp, popping his hip then flipped his missing long hair over his shoulder before bobbing his head, striking pose.
I roared with laughter, falling back on the bed.
This is the self-therapy side that I love and miss.
Draven Van Zul doesn’t act like this in public, especially around his family and the others. It’s a side of him I’m the only one that sees, apparently, and I find it extremely sexy.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, hopping up on the bed then stretched out.
“No reason other than the usual,” I said, sitting up. “Is Price mad at me?”
Draven shook his head. “It is a sure bet that there is nothing you could ever do, Training Bra, to make that man mad at you.”
It’s a nice thought.
“Is that the first actual breakdown you’ve had since coming home?” he asked.
I gave him a look. “Are you going to go all shrink on me, too?” I asked.
“Not at all,” he promised. “You need to talk, and if needed I’m here to listen.”
Huh.
So now he’s giving in and allowing me self-therapy time, when it’s convenient for him?
I see how it is.
Sadly, I need it…
I need him.
“Misha tried to go all shrink on me,” I said.
Draven chuckled. “I heard. You went all Hannibal on him in return.”
“Will Graham,” I corrected. “They are two entirely different characters.”
He nodded. “But of course. I’m sure that would have ended fabulously, regardless of him playing Hannibal or Will.”
I nodded my agreement. “That blond is airheaded, but he’s sweet and means well.”
“Ranch hand likes you. He wants to have little blonde babies with you and skip off into the sunset hand in hand,” Draven informed me.
Ew.
“Just the thought of babies and walking hand in hand with anyone turns my stomach… You knew De’Von wasn’t my biological son without me having to say it, didn’t you?”
He nodded.
“How? Everyone else was looking at me as if I had farted in church or something.”
Draven chuckled. “I have no experience with farting in church or the look that would follow doing such tackiness, but I didn’t need you confirming De’Von wasn’t your biological son to know. That type of intimacy required to have a child isn’t something you are capable of, not yet. Someday perhaps, but even then children aren’t something you want. Learning of the curse, which is our very existence, only reiterates that in your mind, I can tell.”
It annoys me when he does that. Somehow the annoying creature knows exactly what I’m thinking and feeling without having to say it out loud.
“De’Von is a lot like you, Training Bra, and from what I’ve seen and heard, you did a good with him,” he continued. “For not having a parental figure to emulate, you raised a mouthy street kid with a good head on his shoulders. You shouldn’t keep him from Price though. That’s his grandson, even if not by blood, and I’m sure it would warm his heart to know that he has a grandson that is a carbon copy of his precious daughter.”
Damn it.
I hadn’t thought of that, but what can I do about it? I can’t uproot Mama Jones and De’Von and bring them to Montana. They’re born and raised Philadelphians. It would be selfish of me to ask them to change their lives, to uproot themselves, and head out west to a Podunk town in the middle of Montana.
I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair for either of them.
“Why are you here?” I asked, changing the subject, because the other was pissing me off and upsetting me all at once. I pulled my tank top off, balling it up and smacked Draven in the face with it, before pulling the long sleeve Henley over my head.
He shrugged, watching me.
“That’s very frustrating,” I pointed out.
“I’m sure it is, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t the truth,” he retorted.
“This thing is too long,” I complained, realizing the shirt was so long it nearly went past my ass.
Draven shook his head. “Because of how skinny you are, it hangs on you differently than it would me or someone with more than a handful up top.”
I glared at him.
“What? We are in agreement when it comes t
o your lack of attributes,” he reminded me.
That was another awkward conversation we had about my lack of tits.
“Price wasn’t amused when he heard your suggestion for me to get implants,” I said.
His eyes widened. “Why’d you tell him that?”
“Why not?”
Draven glared at me. “The death of me,” he hissed before shaking his head. “Wear just that if you want, but with those shorts it make your ass look lumpy.”
My eyes widened before they narrowed.
Instead of arguing with him, I slipped my shorts down my legs then kicked out of them.
“Much better,” he said, his eyes moving over me. “Though, it looks like nightgown now. Perhaps you should lose the bralette,” he said, contemplatively, before wagging his brows.
I flipped him off, getting a chuckle in return.
“You aren’t charming in the least,” I informed him.
“I beg to differ, you’ve yet to see me wield my charm. What was the breakdown about?” he asked, going back to the self-therapy session.
It isn’t something I want to talk about with him, but I need to.
I crawled up on the bed and folded my legs in front of me and he mirrored my position.
“Mama says I need to stop keeping things from Price,” I said, looking at my hands. “And that the only way he can protect me is for him to know what he needs to protect me from.”
Draven nodded his understanding, but I wasn’t sure what it was he understood since I hadn’t told him or anyone here what it is I’m hiding from.
“Price asked if the feelings of warning I get, that are always followed by losing someone I care about, were felt when Mom died. It wasn’t,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Justice said she didn’t feel it either; it wasn’t that she kept it from me, it just wasn’t there. What kind of daughter does that make me?” I asked, looking up at him.
“It isn’t a question of what kind of daughter you are, it’s a question of if the woman you called Mom was worthy of the warning,” he countered. “How did it feel?”
“When I lost her?”
He shook his head. “No. What it did it feel like when you saw the life being taken from her? Was there a sense of joy or happiness? Were you rooting for the dealer taking her life? Did you want to go in there and take the knife from him and finish the job since it was something you earned the honor of?”
