I shift slightly on the stool and steal a glance a Mills who’s deep in conversation with the rest of the crew and sigh. After we got our clothes back on, he proceeded to act like the entire moment never happened. It fucking sucks, but I shouldn’t have expected more than what I got anyway.
It’s my own fault for wanting someone I don’t even know.
We’ve been here for a couple of hours now. The guys have been talking about the storm and it seems to get wilder and wilder as the story goes on. It’s like a huge game of telephone that I can’t participate in because instead of being up there with my brothers, I was down below with a dick in my mouth.
It makes the beer taste stale, the air seem muggy, and my mood worse than it was when I stepped out onto the deck during the storm.
I reach into my wallet, pull out a couple of tens and toss them onto the table.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Koenig asks in a loud, slurred tone.
“Home,” I reply quietly as I put my wallet back into my pocket and finish the rest of my beer.
I don’t even bother looking at any of them as I turn and walk away. I don’t care that they’re protesting my leaving “so damn early” because the only place I’ll feel good about myself is the one place I hate being alone.
Once I’m outside, I reach into my pocket, dig out a lollipop and begin to fiddle with the wrapper as I start to make my way home. The meticulous way I choose to do it also helps with my stress and that’s why I like to take my time.
“Hey, Denver!”
I sigh as I turn around, but then raise an eyebrow when I see Mills jogging up the sidewalk toward me.
I place the lollipop in my mouth and wait for him to catch up. “Yeah?”
“What are you doing later?” he asks with a serious look in his eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest.
“Sleeping. Why?”
I know I sound like an absolute bastard right now but I’m not in the mood to play the part of the dutiful crewman ready to play fill-the-hole with the new guy again.
“That’s boring,” he responds with a laugh. “I have a better idea.”
I stare at him.
It’s level, it’s unnerving, and it doesn’t work.
My intimidating glare doesn’t work on Mills and I find that slightly fascinating.
“The docks close after seven, right? Well, since we both work for Larry, I’m sure we can get on the boat after hours. Meet me on the Carolina Blue at midnight. I never did get the grand tour and you never know what can happen,” he says with a wink and grin before he turns and jogs back to the bar.
He didn’t even let me tell him that I would much rather be sleeping than showing him the ropes so damn late at night.
Probably because he knows that I wouldn’t say no, I think with a heavy sigh as I turn away and continue my walk home.
Epilogue
Fucking him was enigmatic even though it wasn’t. It felt better than it should have and that’s going to be a problem.
I’ve never gone for a guy before I met Denver and I knew that he could probably tell by the way I entered him.
It was brutal, violent, and the most erotic thing I had ever felt in my entire life.
As the boat rocks back and forth lazily under the watchful gaze of the moon, I wonder if maybe he could have been the one.
Not the one, but the one that could have helped me curb my compulsions. The one that could have helped me understand right from wrong and maybe we could have found a common ground to stand on. Even if we hid our “relationship” in the dark, it could have been so much more than I already had.
And that was nothing.
Nothing but the feeling I get when the blade sinks deep into the flesh of my conquests. Nothing but the smile that dances across my face when the blood rushes forward, raging and unforgiving like the sea.
Nothing and everything all at once.
“Do you think maybe I moved too fast?” I ask him as I turn on my side and glance down at him again. His eyes are wide open, vacant and void of life. His mouth is slightly glistening with the cum he sucked from my cock before I drove the hook through his neck.
But there’s no accusation there anymore.
No look of betrayal.
Nothing.
Just like I’m used to.
I sigh as I put the watermelon flavored lollipop back in my mouth. I was careful when I brushed it against his lips not to get any of myself on it, but I wanted to taste him one more time, and this was the only way I could.
Before the sun comes up, I’ll have to get this fucking boat back out into deep water and dump Denver into the ocean. I’m sure it’s something he probably would have liked, although I’m not entirely sure since I don’t know shit about him.
I never gave him the chance to win me over.
I only gave him what he wanted—to feel me inside of him and to feel needed—even if it were just for the fleeting moment we shared.
I roll over again and look down at him, sucking the lollipop loudly, and run a hand down the side of his face.
I promised myself that I wouldn’t hunt anyone this year—that I would find a way to suppress the compulsions.
But I’m a monster.
And monsters never learn to play well with others.
We only know how to destroy.
About Yolanda Olson
Yolanda Olson is an award winning and international bestselling author. Born and raised in Bridgeport, CT where she currently resides, she usually spends her time watching her favorite channel, Investigation Discovery. Occasionally, she takes a break to write books and test the limits of her mind. Also an avid horror movie fan, she likes to incorporate dark elements into the majority of her books.
You can keep in touch with her on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.
Also by Yolanda Olson
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Bang, Bang
Dani René
Bang, Bang
Copyright © 2019 Dani René
Editing by Candice Royer
Proofing by Illuminate Author Services
Bang, Bang - eBook ISBN: 978-0-6398427-3-8
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
And I was never sure whether you were the lighthouse or the storm – D.J.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for taking the chance on reading this novella. I wrote it in such a way that it will leave you with questions that will be answered soon enough. Be warned, there is a cliffhanger because you know I love to tease you! #SorryNotSorry
Prologue
Kasen
Montauk, New York – ten years ago
Tomorrow is my seventeenth birthday.
I never looked forward to the anniversary of the day I was born, but this year is different. This year, I’m closer to leaving this shithole and going to college. Mom says she’s got my savings ready for me, and I’m finally going to be free. I still have to tell Max I’m going with him.
He’s my best friend, my confidante, and the person I know will always be by my side. We’ve known each other for almost ten years since his parent
s moved here when he was seven. We’re both the same age, a month apart. When I first found out his birthday is exactly thirty days from mine, I thought fate had stepped in and made us friends. But every year that passed and I realized how my feelings had turned from friendship to something more, I knew it was destiny that brought him here.
His father is a famous author; crime thrillers, violence, and death are what his books focus on. We’ve read almost all of them at night while lying in Max’s bedroom. His mother would bring us warm milk and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, and when we passed out on the carpet with books in our hands, she’d come in and cover us with woolen blankets, so we didn’t get cold.
The weather in winter was frigid, but for some reason, Maxen’s dad found it inspirational for his books. I guess if you’re going to kill someone, then you may as well do it while it’s cold and shitty outside.
A knock at my bedroom door drags me from the book I’m reading, and when I glance up, Max saunters in. He’s dressed in gray sweatpants that make my chest tighten and my stomach churn with desire.
Maxen East isn’t a regular guy. He’s been carved from porcelain, chiseled from stone, created to turn my world upside down.
I’ve never admitted to him that I wanted more with him, even though I know he’s also gay. We’ve poured over hot guys in magazines or online, but our friendship never came into question when we would comment about a guy’s abs or his bulge.
“Hey,” Max says, flopping onto my beanbag chair that’s perched in the corner of my bedroom. It overlooks the gray water crashing against the white sand of the beach below. “Dad says he’s got early copies of the new book.”
“Great, I’m just finishing up this one,” I tell him with a smile.
Something’s wrong. Max doesn’t offer me his infamous grin. He doesn’t even look at me when he sighs as he leans his elbows on his thighs. The tight top he’s wearing molds to every curve of his broad, muscled shoulders, and I can’t stop my dick from responding in kind.
“What’s up, man?” I scoot over, sitting on the edge of the mattress, my gaze locked on to my best friend. “You look like you’re about to cry,” I comment in an attempt to tease him. I notice the tick in his jaw, which only makes me more nervous. A heavy, ominous feeling grips my chest, and I pray he doesn’t tell me what it is. I don’t want to hear it, because whatever it is can’t be good.
I’ve only ever seen Max like this once before when his dad told him that he had to go to the city for six months. His dad was doing a book tour, and he really never came home for half that year—that was when we were both thirteen.
“I’m leaving,” he tells me solemnly, causing my heart to stop in my chest.
A breath leaves my lungs, and I’m on my feet, rushing toward him as I drop to my knees between his thighs. “What?”
Deep brown eyes lock on mine, watching me, and I wonder if he’s looking for the truth. The admission I’ve yet to voice. It’s now or never. I should tell him how I feel. I can go with him.
“I can’t talk about it, but . . .” His voice cracks, wavering into the silence that surrounds us. Max shakes his head, then blows out a breath as he looks up to the ceiling. “I’m going to the West Coast. I can’t live here anymore.” He pushes up from the chair, inadvertently shoving me away.
Scrambling to my feet, I stand face to face with the boy I love and cup his cheeks in my hands. I take a step closer, needing to feel his warmth, to let him see just what’s going through my mind right this very minute.
Will he be able to see I love him just by looking into my eyes?
“You won’t understand. My dad wants me to follow in his footsteps. He’s already got my transfer done. I’ll finish school in LA and then head straight into college. I don’t have a choice.”
“You do have a choice. That’s something you taught me,” I insist, hearing the panic in my voice. Losing anything in this world I can deal with, but losing Max, that’s something I can never come to terms with.
“Yeah, I was wrong. I just came to say goodbye.” He pulls me into his arms, holding me for a moment longer than I know is necessary.
“Don’t do this.” Once more, I plead, I beg for him not to break my heart, but Maxen isn’t the type to allow his emotions to show. “You’re running away.” He steps back, regards me for a long while, before he shakes his head and turns to walk out of my bedroom and my life, forever.
The door slides along the carpet, and I inhale a deep breath before I call out the words I’ve wanted to since I realized what love was.
“I love you.”
Time stops.
My breathing stalls.
His head tips slightly to the side as if he wants to turn and look at me. He’s heard me. I said it loud enough for him to catch each of the three poignant words. I wait with bated breath as he pauses for a moment.
My heart hammers against my chest, and the thick lump of heartbreak sits in my throat because I know in that moment, he won’t turn back.
A second later, Maxen East stalks out of my life.
Chapter One
Kasen
New York City – present day
Each day that passed was a memory of our time together. When I turned nineteen, I packed up and told my mother I was leaving. I needed to get out of Montauk and away from the memories that haunted me.
I love you.
Three words I said to him in the hopes that he’d utter them back to me. But at that moment, in my old bedroom, he only gave a moment's pause at my admission. Even after I told him the truth, he never responded. He didn’t turn around and murmur the same. He ran.
I didn’t expect him to stay, but when I accused him of running, I wanted him to ask me to go with him. To escape the town that had brought us together.
But he didn’t.
And I stayed.
I came to the city. To a place where I could get lost and lose myself in the process. I didn’t want to be the sad boy in love with his best friend anymore. And after my first art show, the money rolled in as if it were water flooding through my life.
That’s how I now find myself living in a penthouse, top floor of one of the tallest buildings in New York. My view is of the city, the park, and the river. But everything I now own means nothing because I don’t have the one thing I still crave—my best friend.
As soon as I shut the door of the art gallery that I call home, I glance left and right. There’s an ominous feeling that follows me as I make my way down the street and closer to the apartment building I now live in.
It’s shiny, expensive. Nothing about it is who I truly am. But this life has taught me to keep up appearances. It’s the only way to survive.
It’s New Year’s Eve, one of the favorite days we spent together as kids. Growing up, we would sit on the porch of my childhood home and tell each other all the dreams we had.
He wanted to be a writer like his dad. I wanted nothing more than to paint and sell my artwork to rich assholes from all over the world. We never once spoke about being apart. And I wonder if he’ll come back one day.
I’m sure he knows I’ve moved, that I’m no longer in the small town we once called home. It still holds a special place in my heart because it’s the town where I found love and friendship when nothing else existed.
What would happen if I saw him again?
Would I still have these feelings?
Or will they have diminished?
Something tells me I would fall at his feet and beg him to stay.
Winter is here, etching its way into my bones, and the more the cold levels fall, the more people flock into town. In a few days, the place will be swarming with holidaymakers who’ve lost their minds, because New York in winter is horrific. The tourists will flood in, needing photos at all the markets, finding themselves in a throng of people and snow.
Even though I know he’s living in Los Angeles, I’ve never ventured to the West Coast to find him. I could’ve, but there was no point. He didn’t
want me. He couldn’t have, because if he did, he would’ve stayed, or even just acknowledged my admission.
I spent sleepless nights wondering if he’s been with anyone. If he’s met someone and ended up married. I manage to get into my apartment building without having to push through crowds of party animals who are braving the weather for a night on the town.
The elevator ride up to the twenty-ninth floor is slow, silent, and I close my eyes for a moment, wondering what would happen if we were ever in the same room again. Would there be tension? Is he angry with me? I want nothing more than to have him answer the myriad of questions that plague me daily. When the silver doors glide open and deposit me into the hallway, I turn left and head to my apartment.
Unlocking the door, I step inside and shut myself into the safety of my space. The living room has minimal furniture. It’s not a home; it’s merely a place to rest my head when I need to sleep.
Throwing the keys into the bowl on the small dining room table that sits in the corner of the open-plan living room, I make my way to the balcony doors. The view overlooks a glittering city, alive with possibility but there’s only one that I’d like, one that I’ll never have——to have my best friend back.
Deciding against pouring myself a drink, I head into my personal studio, which I converted when I moved in. The second bedroom was a reminder that I’m alone, that I’ll never have a family to fill it.
Devious Resolutions Page 31
