My Sweet Demise (Demise #1)

by Shana Vanterpool

  “Someday.”

  “Soon?”

  “No.”

  He sighs against me, blowing his breath all over me and drying his kisses. “I’m not going to give up.”

  “Why is marriage an end-all be-all? People get divorced every day.”

  “My parents have been together since they were sixteen. They got married when they were eighteen. I don’t think anything can separate them. To me marriage is the end-all be-all.”

  The emotion in his voice makes me shiver. “My parents were married too,” I point out. “My father had a different girl every time he got drunk. I remember this one time he came home smelling like the honeysuckles out in front of our house. I thought he fell in them again, and then I saw the red mark on his neck and the look in Mom’s eyes, and I knew he’d cheated on her. Again. To me that’s marriage.”

  “Where are they?” He holds me tight for a different reason.

  I shrug. “I don’t know. They haven’t tried to contact us. We’ve been living in Jacksonville our entire lives, so I assume they don’t want anything to do with us. We’re not that hard to find.”

  “Does that make you sad?”

  “It breaks my heart.” My voice cracks. “But at least I have Becca. She’s all I need.”

  “And me.”

  I smile sadly. “And you.”

  “Marry me.”

  “No.”

  He clears his throat and kisses my cheek, getting closer to my mouth. “It’s their loss, you know? Your parents. You’re an amazing person and anything you do now they don’t deserve to be a part of. Remember that.”

  His words make my chest burn. “Thank you.”

  “Promise me something?”

  “Anything.”

  “When you see him, remember I loved you first.”

  “Who?”

  “You want to hang out tonight? Maybe we can go on a date?” He releases me finally and smiles hugely at the impossibility of his words.

  What is he talking about? “My first one? Sorry. I think Max blew that when we got tattoos together.”

  He makes a face and closes his eyes, breathing deeply. “Trying. Give me a minute.”

  I wait for him to calm down over his jealously.

  When he’s calm he opens his eyes and gives me a tight smile. “I don’t have any tattoos.”

  “You’re sexy without them.” I touch his abs. “I don’t want anything marring this.”

  “Sexy, huh?” He hugs me to him. “I think you’re pretty sexy too.”

  “Me?” I feign disbelief. “I haven’t a clue why.”

  He grins down at me. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that I’ve seen you naked. Or how sexy you are when you’re just being you. Or how when you look at me with those hazel eyes my heart nearly stops. I love those eyes. I love this smart mouth.” He kisses softly, eyes sucking me in. “You’re pretty sexy to me.”

  “Show me how sexy you think I am.” I touch the hair peeking out of his boxers.

  He sucks in sharp breath and grins wider, eyes naughty just like that. His hands slide down to cup my ass. “First we’ll start with this. When you move this, I’m done for.” I start to rock my hips and he nods. “Done for.” He slides his hands up to my waist, trails them over my stomach and then cups my breasts. “You have a beautiful body and perfect tits. But this,” he says, reaching up to cup my face, “is my favorite part. Everything I want is up here.” He kisses me deeply.

  “Everything?” I whisper against his lips.

  He reaches down to touch me through my shorts. “Well, not everything.”

  He whisks me into his arms and carries me to his bedroom. We don’t waste time. My clothes are off and so are his. He slides the condom on over his length and then enters me slowly. We look into each other’s eyes the entire time; even when I orgasm and they threaten to close I keep them open for him so he can see what he’s doing to me. Watching his pleasure is something I don’t think I can ever get used to, because I’m responsible for it. I’m doing it to him. His pleasure is as much mine as mine is his. When we’re finished I lie beside him, breathing hard and satisfied.

  He stares at the empty condom boxes on the floor. “We have one more left.”

  I smile at the ceiling, recalling Becca’s excuses. “Have you ever not used one?”

  “No,” he admits.

  “Really?”

  He looks over at me. “Really. I’m an idiot, but I’m not a complete moron. I wasn’t going to risk getting a girl pregnant.” He winks at me. “Why, you want to?”

  “I’d like to try it.” Skin on skin sounded enticing.

  He looks down at his penis. “What do you say, big fella? You think you can go again?”

  I swat him and laugh. “Kent.”

  “Sorry. The consensus is a snack and a break. Let’s go to dinner.” He rolls out of bed and grabs my ankle, pulling me away from his pillows.

  “How? We don’t have a car. Did you find your bike?” I get of bed and grab my panties, putting them on.

  “No. Not yet,” he reveals.

  I frown and put my bra back on. Following with my jeans and his shirt, I’m as good as I’m going to get. “You’re a buffoon. Who loses a motorcycle?”

  “Only me.”

  I sit down on the bed and comb my fingers through my hair as he dresses in a pair of jeans and a white shirt. He styles his hair, which only makes it look like he didn’t style it at all, and rubs some moisturizing stuff on his face. Spraying cologne on himself, he eyes his reflection in the mirror. “Hot or what?”

  “Or what.”

  He rolls his eyes in the mirror. “Hater.”

  On our way into the living room I grab my purse off the floor and find my makeup. As he calls a taxi I try and look as or what at him.

  “Oblivion,” he says into the phone.

  I drop my mascara. “Kent.”

  “Eight’s good.” Hanging up, he looks at me. “What?” he asks innocently.

  “I thought we weren’t going to drink anymore?”

  “We’re not. We’re going to go to Oblivion and make kissy face all over Sophie’s section. And maybe we’ll dance and I’ll talk to Wayne and get your job back.”

  I look at him firmly. “I don’t want my job back.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No. I want to go to school. I don’t know what for, but if I have to work at a bar for the rest of my life with people like Sophie while you’re rich and successful I’ll implode. And I don’t need to rub you in her face. She’s not worth lessening myself. Let’s go somewhere different.” My timid smile increases. “Like a real date.”

  He raises his eyebrows at me and sits back on the couch. “You want a real date? You got it.”

  When the taxi gets there we exit the apartment hesitantly, and I know it’s in case Becca is hiding in the bushes. I can picture her crouched with a gun aimed right at Kent’s penis. I rather like his penis, so I walk close to him. He smirks down at me as if he can predict my thoughts, nudging me forward by my lower back.

  “Change of plans,” he informs the driver. “You know that seafood restaurant on the coast? We’re going there.”

  As we drive, Kent takes my hand and holds it on his lap, tracing my palm. No matter what happens we’re in this now. I chose him and he chose me. At this point worrying will only sour how I feel. And that’s something akin to hope and happiness. For the first time in my life I’m almost willing to admit it out loud. But there’s something in the back of my head preventing me. She’s got a role in this story as well. What’s going to happen when Kent sees Willow and realizes there was a reason he loved her once?

  When we arrive at the restaurant Kent and I crawl out of the back after he slips the driver a hundred dollar bill. I wonder momentarily what that must feel like being able to throw a hundred dollars on a taxi ride because I can. Losing motorcycles and blowing five hundred dollars at the bar. Kent is spoiled beyond belief.

  “Kent, does it bo
ther you I’m broke?”

  He frowns as he holds the restaurant door for me. “You’re not broke. We’re together. What’s mine is yours. I’ll make enough money for both of us, whether you marry me or not. Which you will.” He sounds so sure it comforts me. “Eventually.”

  “Are you okay with eventually?”

  “As long as it happens.” He takes my hand and guides me to the hostess stand.

  Once we’re seated at the window, where we can watch the sea roll in, the ocean clear and blue, I decide to let Willow go. She’ll be center stage soon and I’d rather lessen her stage time.

  “Can I start you two off with something to drink?” the waitress questions, spying Kent like he’s going to jump up and take her on the table.

  I refrain from rolling my eyes. “I’ll have a Diet Coke.”

  “And I’ll have a sweet tea,” Kent orders, smiling nicely at her.

  She smiles back, but it isn’t nicely. “What about appetizers?”

  “You want anything, Rain?”

  “The crab-stuffed shrimp sound good.” I make my tone saccharine. “And the garlic fries.”

  “Great,” she says, although I don’t think she means it.

  When she’s gone Kent laughs quietly. “I never noticed how uncomfortable that is when I don’t reciprocate.”

  He shakes it off as his cell rings. “Mom?” he answers warily. “I know. I was born that day. I’ll be there tomorrow. I know, how spectacular. Sorry, my smart-ass mouth must be someone else’s fault.” He winks at me. “My birthday’s on Friday. I expect all house guests to make themselves scarce before then.” As his mother answers, Kent’s face pales. He is so white I start to get up but he waves my concern away and I sit back down. He swallows hard and his eyes twitch, as if he’s either too angry to be angry, or too heartbroken to be broken. “How long have you known? I’m so happy for them,” he bites out.

  He takes a long shaky breath and runs his hand down his face. “I bet you’re pleased,” he manages. “So this wasn’t about my birthday? This was about them the whole time?” His expression makes me shrink. “I don’t want to disrespect you. I’m going to hang up now.”

  Her desperate pleas get cut short.

  The waitress glances at him nervously as she brings us our drinks and appetizers. “Are you ready to order?” she asks me.

  Now she wants to talk to me? “Come back—”

  “No,” Kent snaps. “We’ll order now. I want the lobster and king crab bucket. What do you want, Rain? The same. Say the same.”

  “The same.” That’s the most expensive item on the menu.

  “Two lobster buckets coming right up,” our waitress answers meekly, desperate to get away.

  “Shit,” Kent whispers. His eyes are evil. They’re simmering silently with rage. “One drink?”

  I shake my head slowly. “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s her problem? Why would I want to know?” He sits up straight as a board. “Not even one drink?”

  “No.”

  He swallows his anger. “Fine. No drinking. I promised you. You are all that matters.”

  I take a few garlic fries and dunk them in ketchup, watching the way his emotions are displayed on his face. He clearly doesn’t want to tell me. I clearly don’t want to know. It’s undoubtedly about Willow. As far as Willow is concerned I’d rather not go there with him. This is the kind of attitude that could destroy us. He’s mad, I’m mad, and we’re both waiting to explode. The only way to deal with it is for one of us to back down.

  I let Willow go and smile timidly at him. “Let me guess, we’re racking up your dad’s credit card?”

  “Big time. After here we’ll go to the mall and buy you all new clothes so you don’t have to go to Max’s. Did you really get a tattoo with him?” His rage intensifies.

  “I’m not sure I want your dad buying me new clothes.” I purposely overlook his Max comment. “Please relax. Whatever’s brothering you isn’t between us. We’re what matters.”

  His eyes are wild. “I can’t believe it. That son of a bitch.”

  “Think about you and me,” I order, losing my patience. “Not Willow.”

  His fists are bunched on top of the table and his chest rises rapidly. “Marry me, Rain.” He makes it sound like an order.

  “I will not marry you. And I will not marry you when you’re telling me to. What happened?”

  “She’s pregnant!”

  I sit back in awe. “Well.”

  I don’t understand why that’s his problem. He loves me. What does it matter if Willow is moving on with her life? Aren’t we doing the same? There’s something missing here. I can feel it.

  “Why is she a part of your parents’ life?”

  He releases his fist and grabs all of the crab-stuffed shrimp, shoving a piece into his mouth. “I’m renting a car too. That’s what he gets for lying to me. I can’t believe them.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t go.”

  “Oh no,” he says, eerily calm now. “We’re going. I’m going to look them in the eye so they know I know.”

  “Know what?” I demand, biting back my anger. “Kent, I don’t get it. Okay, so she’s pregnant. That’s not your concern. You can be upset, fine, I can see why. But why get so angry? She’s not yours.”

  “I don’t want her!” he hisses quietly. “At this point it isn’t even about Willow.”

  “Then who’s it about?”

  “It’s between me and him.”

  “Her boyfriend?”

  He makes a disgusted face when I mention Willow’s significant other. “Let’s eat. We’re on a date.”

  Some date.

  “She’s going to ruin our relationship.” I say it like it already happened, because it will if I have to sit here and listen to him gripe about his ex-fiancée.

  “She will not.” He says this like it’s also true.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Chewing, he takes the time to not answer. “I can’t even say the words. I loved that guy like no other. And he does this to me.”

  Why did we agree to stop drinking? I move my hair away from my face and wonder whether it’s right to want to smack the man you love. “I’m having so much fun. This is how I always imagined our date together.”

  His eyes flash and he looks at my mouth. “Rain,” he warns in his way. “Your smart mouth gets smarter every day.”

  I gasp in faux shock. “I always knew I was a genius. What am I doing in this podunk town with you?”

  He points a fry at me. “Keep it up. I’ll punish you in front of everybody.”

  I flick my tongue at him. “Try it.”

  His head tilts to the side and this naughty look replaces the anger in his eyes. “Show me that tongue again.” I stick it out and lean forward. He reaches over and spanks it with the French fry, then slides the fry into my mouth slowly. “Eat it.” I chew it and swallow while our eye contact remains, crackling between us. “Show me again.” I make sure all of the fry is gone when I stick my tongue out once more. His fingers lightly caress my tongue in front of everyone, then he grips it hard, his eyes dark and wanting. “You remember the first time you put me in your mouth?” I nod, still in his grip. He releases my tongue and moves his fingers into my mouth.

  I suck on his fingers and then sit down, pulling him out slowly and checking around the restaurant. No one seems to be watching. I undo my sandal so I can move my toes between his legs under the table. I feel the thick line of his erection. “I remember making you come, that’s what I remember.”

  He sets his palms on top of the table, eyes heavy and glistening with his desire. “Make me come again, Rain.”

  “I want you to know something,” I tell him, voice stern as I rub him harder. He exhales deeply and our eyes connect once again. “You are mine. The next time you get upset over Willow I’m going to punish you. No more sadness over her. She doesn’t deserve you. I do. Now come for me, baby.” I press my toes against him hard.

&nb
sp; I watch as he tosses his head back and makes two tight fists. I rub him faster, harder, massaging the length of his hard cock with my toes and rubbing my heel against his balls. He falls apart before my eyes, trying to hide it. Watching him attempt to contain his pleasure might be the sexiest part. He whimpers slightly, as if he can’t keep his moans inside, then leans forward and bows his head, hiding his face from everyone as he orgasms.

  I take my foot back and wiggle it into my sandal. “Now I’m having fun.”

  He looks up at me, breathing hard and satisfied. “I love you,” he groans, situating himself under the table.

  I smile sweetly and taste a shrimp. “I bet you love me right now.”

  Our waitress arrives with four lobsters and enough crab to feed an entire family. She gives us bibs and I laugh at Kent when he puts it on.

  He cracks into his lobster, sucking on the claw. “Thanks, Dad.”

  I giggle. “What’s his name?”

  “Brent.”

  “Thanks, Brent. Is there anything I should know about them before I meet them? Are they as aggravating as you?”

  “No, they’re not as cool,” he assures me, reaching over to dot my cheek with lobster juice. “They’re normal. Scott and I used to wonder whether we were Dad’s children, because we look like our mom, and Dad’s all dark hair, computer geek, and golfer. I got his taste in numbers and Scott…” He pauses and cracks his crab leg roughly. “Got his propensity for acquiring things that aren’t his,” he finishes bitterly.

  “Golf?” I scrunch my nose up.

  “Dad loves it. Plays once a week. Every week.”

  “My dad loved baseball. He took Becca and me to a Marlins game once. He got drunk in the parking lot afterwards, but until that point we had fun.” I smile sadly at the memory. “He bought us hotdogs and slushies. I spilled mine all over my shirt and he bought me a new one so Mom wouldn’t get mad.”

  Kent smiles a little. “So not everything was bad with him, then?”

  “Most things were. I can remember a few good things, but mostly I try not to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’re lies. If someone can do good things then they should do them all the time. When you chose to do bad it makes the good things you do bad too.”