Nightfall

by Douglas, Penelope

  He’d hurt so many people so badly that he lost everything, but it was only then that he realized his pride was less important than everything he loved.

  I felt Em’s eyes and looked down at her, almost shaken at how she stared at me, unblinking. Like a tiny crumb of the wall inside of her had suddenly peeled away.

  Silence filled the room. Taylor was at my side, quietly drinking, while Aydin and Em just sat there.

  I wanted to fight. Him, Taylor…something to get rid of this steam rising up my goddamn neck.

  Lightning struck the sky, flashing through the windows and followed by thunder. Then, the lights all around us went out, the room falling into darkness except for the single taper lit on the table.

  “Shit,” Taylor grumbled. “Not again.”

  Aydin rose from his seat, jerking his chin at Taylor to follow, and they both left the room. Probably to check the fuse box or generator.

  But I still stared at her as I sat down, leaning back in my chair.

  “You weren’t that fucking great,” I said. “You were a huge hassle that I indulged in for far too long.”

  She held my eyes. “I know.”

  “There were girls who were nicer.”

  She nodded, her tone softening. “I know.”

  I ground my thumb against the insides of my fingers. “Friends who were kinder.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I haven’t called you,” I pointed out. “I haven’t contacted you in any way in nearly nine years.”

  She opened her mouth but then closed it, breathing a little shallower.

  “I don’t care what you went through,” I said.

  Again, she nodded.

  “There were people who loved me, and I wasted time on someone who didn’t.”

  My heart hammered as I dropped my gaze to her neck. Her olive skin glowed with a light layer of sweat.

  “I understand,” she said.

  Fucking bitch. My dick swelled and hardened as I got angrier by the second.

  “You had years to reach out, but you didn’t,” I told her. “Believe me, I had time to become well-aware you didn’t give a shit, and now, neither do I.”

  I saw the lump in her throat move up and down.

  “I moved on.” The candle flickered, a draft hitting us from somewhere in the house. “I kissed others, touched their faces like I touched yours, and spent time with them like I never did with you.”

  You don’t matter.

  Her jaw flexed, and I gazed at her pretty little throat, my fingers humming with the urge to pin her to this table and eat her out until she screamed.

  “Years of nights,” I said, and I wasn’t sure if I was saying it more for her or me anymore, but I kept going. “Years of not thinking of you. Nearly an entire life of memories and history that doesn’t include you. You were nothing.”

  She stared at me, no longer responding.

  “She took care of me.” My voice dropped to nearly a whisper, and I didn’t care that she didn’t know who I was talking about. “She listened to me. Made me smile.”

  No movement.

  “Stood next to me,” I gritted out. “Fit in with my friends. She’s smart, clever, resourceful, and she took the shitty hand life dealt her and still knows how to love people, unlike you.”

  Her eyes blazed, a fire kindling behind them.

  “She’s hot in the shower,” I taunted more, “on the beach, against the wall, on the hood of the car in the rain, and in my backseat—”

  She growled, flying out of her chair and swiping a hand at the candlestick, sending it tumbling to the floor where it extinguished.

  I couldn’t hold back my shit-eating smile.

  Charging around the table, she made for the door, but I grabbed her and backed her into the wall.

  But before I could rub in my escapades a little more or wrap my hand around her pretty little neck, she shoved me hard in the chest.

  I stumbled and fell into the chair, and then she was on me—glaring down and squeezing my neck in her fist.

  I gasped, fully fucking hard now.

  She breathed fast and shallow, seething like she wanted to end me with her teeth.

  Holy shit.

  I groaned. God, straddle me, please.

  She glowered, and I searched her eyes, waiting for her to lose control. To show that she grew up, wasn’t afraid, and was willing to admit she liked it and she might like it a lot if I bent her ass over this table right now, fucked her, and used her hair as leverage.

  She didn’t. Growling again, she whipped around and stalked out of the room, and it only took two seconds to bolt after her.

  I threw open the dining room doors, storming into the hallway, and spotted her, running away from me.

  I raced for her.

  She glanced behind her, saw me, and bolted, hurrying away, but I caught her.

  I took her in my arms, hearing her squeal as I pressed my chest into her back. I forced her into the darkened doorway of the drawing room and reached around, taking her jaw in my hand.

  She tried to wriggle out of my hold, but I didn’t give a shit if she drew blood or ripped out my throat. I was seeing this through.

  I had questions. Like why didn’t she tell me what was happening at home? Or why couldn’t she trust me?

  I was patient. I would’ve understood.

  I wouldn’t have disappointed her.

  But not only did she not trust me, she attacked, and I didn’t give a fuck about the why anymore. We all went through shit.

  I leaned into her ear, ready to finish everything I was saying at the table and make her listen, because it was the least of what she owed me, but…

  Panting and moaning hit my ears, a thud hitting the wall, and I darted my gaze through the cracked door into the drawing room. I saw Micah pressed into the bookshelves, Rory behind him and thrusting into him in the dark.

  “God, fuck,” Rory gasped, fisting the back of Micah’s hair and biting his neck.

  Em’s chest caved, and she collapsed back into me as I pressed my cheek to hers, both of us watching the scene ahead.

  Hell, if they wanted privacy, they’d be in their room.

  Both of them shirtless, Micah gripped the shelves in front of him, his black hair in his eyes as Rory gripped the curve of his leg where it met his thigh with one hand and his shoulder with the other, driving into him, their pants hanging around their asses.

  Emory had frozen, tense but having completely forgotten she was resisting.

  Sweat glistened across Micah’s back as Rory’s normally well-groomed hair laid in disarray across his forehead, his brow etched in a mixture of passion, pain, and uncontrollable need as his mouth drifted across Micah’s skin, biting and breathing as he rode him faster and faster.

  I exhaled, snaking my arm around her tighter and watching the looks flash across Micah’s face.

  Looking at them, you’d assume Micah was the one in control. He was bigger, taller, more muscular, and he had that whole dark and dangerous vibe.

  He wasn’t. Rory was the dominant one, and Micah loved every second of it because all he wanted was love.

  I was like that. Emmy was like Rory.

  Perfect for me.

  When she let herself be.

  We watched Rory reach around and dig Micah’s dick out of his pants, already long and erect, and stroke it as he thrust faster and harder. He threw his head back, growled, and Micah shook the shelves, books falling to the floor as Rory came, pumping his dick and spending himself.

  He barely took a moment to catch his breath before he shoved Micah onto the couch, pulled down his pants, and dropped to his knees, taking his dark-haired boy into his mouth and returning the favor.

  Micah’s abs and arms flexed as he slouched in his seat and stroked Rory’s head, drawing him down again and again onto his cock.

  “You ever do that to a man?” I asked Emory.

  She tried to pull away, as if just waking up and realizing I was here.

  “I
never did that to you,” she retorted.

  I spun her around and slipped my hand straight down her fucking pants, diving into her cunt—hot and wet just like I knew it would be.

  She whimpered, the feel of her tingling up my arm, and I snatched her bottom lip between my teeth, so turned-on and hard at how much I’d missed this.

  All my friends loved the control. Loved to hold them down and make them beg for it like Rika, Banks, and Winter were their toys.

  Not me.

  She dominated me, and I didn’t want it any other way. In the classroom, in the library, in the movie theater, in my truck… Watching her cash in on my ass was better than actual sex.

  I could be a bad boy, and I needed to be disciplined.

  She growled, trying to push me away, but I brought my hand up, rubbing my glistening fingers in her face.

  And then I crashed down on her mouth, kissing, nibbling, sucking, and tugging her sweet flesh and hearing a moan escape before she tried to push me away again.

  “I know you know how to take a beating,” I told her, whispering over her lips, “but this isn’t the kind you’re used to.”

  Crashing through the doors to the drawing room, I pushed her back onto the other sofa, ignoring Micah and Rory still going at it a few feet away, and fell on top of her, ripping open her shirt before grabbing her bra between her tits and yanking with full force, hearing it tear apart, baring the golden skin of her beautiful breasts.

  She struggled, swatting her hands at me as I came down on top of her, smiling as her legs fell open.

  “Hit me,” I whispered over her lips before diving in to kiss her. “Hit me for all the tail I fucked after you. For all the nights I forgot about you, ridden to kingdom come by tits and ass ten times hotter than you.”

  “Ten?” she taunted me. “Really? Come on. You can afford hotter than that! Maybe twenty times hotter! Still got their numbers?”

  I laughed bitterly, rising up and pulling down her pants, but she wasn’t wearing any panties, because I took those yesterday. I came back down, molding my mouth to hers and thrust against her.

  I glided my hands all over her body. God, she was so damn hot.

  “Damon was right.” She pushed at me. “You are smaller than him.”

  My heart pounded against my chest, fire filling my lungs, and I rose up, yanking her ass down and diving into her pussy, covering it with my mouth.

  She cried out. “Will… Ah!”

  I was not smaller. And I didn’t need reminding of how the hell she knew what he looked like naked.

  Sucking and tugging, kissing and biting, I ate the bitch with no hesitation and no mercy. I licked up the sides, nibbling her skin and flicking her clit with my tongue as she squirmed under me, trying to crawl away.

  She gasped for breath, a sweet sweat glistening across her tight stomach as her nipples hardened to little rocks.

  Then…moans filled the air, her body quivered, and her thighs fell wide as she lifted her head and watched me lick her pussy.

  “Will…” she panted, threading her fingers through my hair.

  Rising up, I threw off my jacket and glanced over my shoulder, seeing Micah grin as he watched us. Rory was swallowing his cock, servicing Micah like I was doing to her.

  Dipping back down, I slowed a bit, kissing her flesh and licking her before sticking my tongue inside, tasting her so warm and wet.

  Her back arched off the sofa, and she threw her head back, shuddering and clawing my shoulders.

  Flicking her clit with my tongue, I sucked it into my mouth again and again, her tits bobbing back and forth as she sought it, trying to grind into it and ride my mouth.

  “That feel good, girl?” Micah called out to her.

  She nodded, panting with her eyes closed. “Yeah.”

  “Be sure to park his ass next me when he’s done with you,” he told her, sucking in air between his teeth. “You drop to your knees like Rory, and I can watch both of you swallow us down.”

  Cum leaked out of my dick as I pulsed with need.

  “Yeah,” she whimpered.

  I placed my hand on her stomach, feeling her shake and her breaths grow erratic. When she sucked in air, holding it, again and again, I knew she was right there.

  Aching and boiling with heat, I tore myself away and stood up, sweat cooling my brow.

  I wanted to bring her there. I didn’t want to ever stop.

  And the old me wouldn’t have.

  It took a moment to catch my breath as I stared down at her. She blinked a few times, opening her eyes when she realized I’d stopped.

  “Wha…” she breathed out.

  I leaned down, getting in her face. “When you’re ready for me to finish that,” I said. “You come to me.”

  She dug in her eyebrows, gaping.

  “My bed is on the third floor.” I rose up, grabbing my jacket. “Come and ask me for it.”

  And I left, the appendage between my legs trying to tear a hole in my pants as Micah’s laugh followed me up the stairs. Along with the shatter of whatever vase Emmy threw in the drawing room that crashed two seconds later.

  That was the hardest fucking thing I’d ever had to do.

  Like harder than prison, detox, and the Doris Day double-feature at the drive-in my mother asked me to take her to when I was seventeen.

  Combined.

  Emory

  Nine Years Ago

  “Here you go.” Mr. Kincaid handed me a pack of college brochures, secured with a rubber band. “When you apply, though, your acceptance letters will come to your house.”

  He winked at me, and I gave him a tight smile.

  Reaching over his desk, I took the booklets. “Thanks.”

  Believe me. I knew I’d have to deal with this sooner or later.

  I left his office and walked through the main office, heading out to the hallway. My brother expected me to go to college. It was one of the only areas we agreed and where I didn’t experience resistance from him, but that might change if he learned my choices. I wasn’t ready for his opinion on the matter, so I asked the dean to request the brochures for me for now. I still had a year to apply and face the fights.

  I pushed through the doors, opening the top booklet as a few students made their way down the hall.

  “Ooooh, Berkeley.” Someone snatched the booklet out of my hands.

  I turned my head to see Elle flipping through the brochure. “Hey,” I scolded, reaching for the brochure.

  She pulled away, looking at it. “You couldn’t get any farther away from here,” she said. “But I guess that’s what you want.”

  I stole the booklet back. “Yep.”

  Berkeley was at the other end of the country, and I could afford maybe two years with the college fund my parents had put in a trust for me.

  I wasn’t planning to use any of it, though.

  I’d barely slept last night after Will left, spending much of the night replaying him in my head, part of me sure I should’ve just let him leave when he tried the first time, and the other half of me sorry that I let him go the second time.

  But I did decide on one thing that had been troubling me. If my grandmother were still alive when I left for college, my trust would be more than enough to pay for a year at the best convalescent home in Meridian City.

  That would get her out of my brother’s house, and I’d be able to go to school without worry.

  All I had to do was earn a scholarship—or ten—to pay for my education.

  I looked ahead, hearing a group of students laughing.

  Will stood against the lockers, surrounded by his friends, his arms wrapped around Davinia Paley as he lifted her off the ground and stared into her eyes. She smiled at him.

  My heart sank, and my mouth went dry.

  I faltered for a moment, blinking and looking quickly away. Looks like he found his Homecoming date. What a prick.

  Elle stopped at my side, following my eyes as I looked up at him again. He held Davinia like she w
eighed nothing, talking to her and looking playful and happy, while everyone around them, with their clothes and their cars and their friends, looked like a Teen Vogue ad I’d never belong in.

  He looked over at me, and I dropped my eyes, turning away. It was just as well.

  I continued down the hall, feeling his eyes on me as I passed, and Elle and I rounded the corner, stopping at my locker.

  “Will I see you in class?” she asked.

  “Ugh.”

  She snorted, because she was well-aware I hated literature class. Touching my arm, she continued on. “Maybe see you at lunch then.”

  “See you.”

  I stuck the brochures into my locker, hiding them at school for now, and pulled out my notebook, The Grapes of Wrath, and the rest of my materials for the morning, stuffing everything into my bag.

  The bag grew heavier, though, as Will and his friends’ laughter escalated around the corner, my patience and silence spent. I couldn’t sit in class right now.

  I wish I could. Show him that he didn’t bother me. That Davinia didn’t bother me.

  He should see me tough and unaware of all of it.

  It was a game I knew well.

  But I slammed my locker door shut and walked down the hall, passing lit class and taking one flight up to the art room.

  It was always empty first period, and Mr. Gaines didn’t arrive until he absolutely had to. I’d have the room for another hour.

  Dropping my bag at my usual drafting table, I pulled my rolls of paper out of my cubby and slid onto my stool, spreading everything out and getting to work.

  The bell rang, students raced down the halls outside the doors, but soon everything quieted, and all I could hear were the teachers beginning their lessons beyond the dark, quiet walls of my little hideaway.

  Using my rulers, I continued the redesign of the Bell Tower, the one near the cemetery that had fallen to ruins when St. Killian’s was abandoned so many years ago. I measured the gables, as well as drew lines for each of the small decorative dormers I was adding. It was an assignment, but I’d love to see it come to fruition someday.

  Despite my hatred of this town, I loved this place. It’s history. The allure of its secrets and traditions. The mysteries that survived the years and the architecture. So many nooks and crannies to get lost in, not only with places like the catacombs or the Torrance garden maze that used to be open to the public once a year when I was a kid, but the way every avenue and piece of coastline seemed to have a story.