The Day She Cried

by K. Webster

  Rome: You’re coming home with me tonight.

  A chill skitters through me.

  I like that idea a whole lot better.

  In my head, going home with Rome meant alone. Just the two of us. But as we walked through the shop earlier, he was barking out orders to people. Mike, pick up some fuckin’ food. Jamal, don’t get the cheap vodka this time or he’ll take it out of his paycheck when he has to go buy the real shit. Nick, leave the skanks at home this time. Hector, tell your old lady where you’ll be at so she doesn’t show up again with a baseball bat thinking you’re sleeping around on her.

  Feeling out of place, I followed Rome, like the sheep he always claims, into his car. He only spoke to me when he drove by my house. Pack a bag and make it quick. I’d been able to change clothes and scribble a note to my mom telling her I wasn’t coming home, but I didn’t even have all my toiletries packed before he started honking the horn.

  Impatient ass.

  Now, I’m completely out of place. I’ve tucked myself away in the corner of the kitchen while Rome’s modest home fills with some familiar faces from the shop but many more I’ve never met. He’s nowhere to be seen and I’m stuck talking to some guy named Kyle.

  “You go to school around here?” Kyle’s eyes keep dropping to my cleavage and I now wish I’d thrown on a T-shirt rather than a tank top. The white material hugs my skin in a way I’d hoped would get Rome’s attention. He didn’t even look up from his phone earlier when I got back into the car. He certainly didn’t notice I’d changed into a denim skirt and was showing all kinds of leg to him. The moment we arrived at his house, he bolted. Again.

  “I’m hoping to go to the community college this fall. I’ve been working on getting enrolled.” I flash him a fake cheerleader smile. What I don’t tell him is by “working on getting enrolled,” I really mean praying the dean approves my application. Convicted felons have to get special approval and all.

  “No shit?” he says, a lopsided grin on his face. “My brother goes there. If you see Brad Nixon, that’s him.”

  I keep the plastic smile in place. “Okay.”

  He starts telling me a story about God knows what, but I’ve lost all interest. The room seems to stand still the moment I sense Rome’s presence. My eyes dart between people crowding the kitchen so I can look for his sexy face. The moment my stare locks with his smoldering green-eyed one, every hair on my flesh stands on end as though he’s the one creating this electromagnetic pulse. Kyle drones on, but I can’t look at him.

  All I see is Rome.

  His perfectly chiseled jaw clenches in that angry way that sets my blood ablaze. He’s not wearing a shirt after his shower and looks good enough to eat in all his lean, muscled tattooed glory. His jeans are holey and worn-out from years of wear, but they look good on him, hanging low on his hips. The black band of his boxers peeks out above them, hiding what I know is a huge dick.

  A dick that was buried deep inside me last night.

  I shiver at the reminder. Rome gets stopped by some guy who slaps his shoulder and laughs like a freaking buffoon. I take the moment to stare blatantly at his abs that are so cut and defined they almost don’t seem real. His oblique muscles are hard and contoured, bracketing the trail of dark hair that disappears beneath his boxers.

  I want to lick him there.

  From right below his belly button along that flesh that leads straight to his cock.

  My body feels as though it will combust at any moment. I lick my lips and dart my eyes up to find him staring hard at me. Angry. Hateful. But so damn hot.

  “Are you cold?” Kyle asks, his hand gripping my bicep. “You’re shivering.” When he starts rubbing up and down on my skin, the goosebumps only get worse.

  “I’m fine,” I utter, ignoring the burning glare that’s being shot at me from across the room. I guess we’re back to square one. Him hating the ground I walk on.

  “Here,” Kyle says with a chuckle. “This will help.” He turns away from me and grabs a bottle of vodka. After splashing some into a red solo cup, he hands it to me. “Warm you right up.”

  Kyle is cute in a baby-faced way. Floppy brown hair. A smattering of freckles on his cheeks. Big brown eyes. Crooked smiles for days.

  He’s just not him.

  Fire and fury and ferocity.

  Kyle is not Rome.

  Sharp and severe and hard.

  I sip the disgusting liquor and make a face.

  “I never said it was good,” Kyle says with a laugh. “Just that it’ll warm you up.”

  “It’s so gross.” We both laugh when I make another face after I sip it again.

  A giant body bumps into Kyle as it pushes past him. “That’s because you kids are drinking this cheap shit Jamal brought, that fucker.”

  I nearly choke the moment Rome reaches between us into the cabinet beside me. His hard chest brushes against mine and I let out an audible gasp.

  “Drink this instead.” He sets a different bottle of liquor down beside me on the counter, but I can’t look at it. My eyes are glued to the raven on his throat. Pulsating. Breathing. Living.

  “No shit? Thanks, man,” Kyle chirps from behind him.

  Rome makes no moves to retreat from me. His body heat warms me faster than the alcohol ever could. I chance looking up at him. His still-wet hair hangs in his eyes, but it barely masks the flickering of rage. The greens and browns in his irises seem to swirl and glow as he watches me.

  I should just reach up and kiss him.

  Then we could go back to this weird sexual energy we have and not this barely contained hate he has for me. Kyle reaches around him to pluck my cup from me. Still, neither Rome nor I move. Rome’s eyes dart to my lips for a second, but then his nostrils flare as he tears away his gaze.

  “Careful,” he sneers, his thumb brushing across my breast and teasing my nipple through my shirt and bra. “Dress like a whore…” He pinches my nipple and I cry out. “Get treated like a whore.”

  Prickles of tears assault my eyes, but I refuse to let him or anyone see me cry.

  “I’m not a whore,” I hiss under my breath.

  He laughs. Cold. Cruel. Mocking. “Keep telling yourself that.” He looks over his shoulder at Kyle. “She’s all yours, big man.”

  I’m still in shock long after he leaves my presence.

  “What an asshole,” Kyle jokes as he hands me back my cup.

  I chase my tears with the better tasting vodka. No sips. Just one quick chug. My throat burns, but I’m already shoving the red plastic back into Kyle’s hands for more. He chuckles and pours another shot’s worth into the cup.

  “Cheers,” he says, his body moving closer to mine.

  “To what?” I almost snap out the words but soften barely.

  “To getting fucked up.”

  Fine. I’ll drink to that.

  Another fake smile and I down the liquid fire.

  “You look really nice,” Kyle says as he once again appreciates my top.

  When I steal a look after Rome to see if he notices my top too, he’s laughing with Jamal and some short, black-haired girl. My stomach flops and I greedily accept another one of Kyle’s offered shots.

  This is going to be a long night.

  Rome

  Why the fuck does she have to wear shit that makes every man in the vicinity nearly nut his pants? It’s like she’s dead set on torturing me until the end of time. She’s my purgatory. A life sentence and beyond for the many, many ways I failed my sister. I’m destined to motherfucking burn in her presence.

  “Haven’t seen you around much lately,” Dottie says, smacking her gum. She toys with a long black strand of hair in a way she probably thinks is sexy.

  I shrug and knock back another shot. “Been busy.” Thinking of ways to not only fuck over Courtney Moss, but to just fuck her in general.

  “Shop stuff? You guys still need help? I saw the sign from the window was gone,” she says, moving closer to me when some guys push past. Her fat tit
s press against me and irritation bubbles in my chest. At one time, I quite enjoyed fucking her big tits. Now, all I can think about are Courtney’s perky, much smaller tits. Tits I still haven’t seen or tasted. My dick lurches in my jeans at the thought of ripping that stupid slutty tank off her perfect body and putting bite marks all over her.

  “We have help,” I grunt out and adjust my cock.

  Dottie bats her lashes that are adorned with the longest fucking extensions. “You need help in other ways?” Her pink tongue flicks out and licks her thin lips. I drag my gaze from the girl who’s always giving her shit away for free to a pair of swollen lips that I’ve dreamed about more times than I can count.

  Since I left Courtney with that douchebag, she’s taken four shots. I keep waiting for the pussy boy to tell her to slow down, but he keeps pouring her more. The stupid ass probably thinks he’s getting beneath that short little skirt tonight.

  He has another thing coming.

  She’s mine to torment.

  Fucking mine.

  When she smiles—one of her stupid plastic cheerleader smiles—I know it’s time to send that guy packing. I don’t even answer Dottie and instead storm through the sea of people in my house. Douchebag cries out when I push past him, standing right in front of Courtney. Her cheeks burn bright red as she looks up at me with the bluest damn eyes on the planet.

  Wide.

  Sad.

  Innocent.

  Fuck. She is not innocent.

  Her full lips part open as if she’s going to say something, but then someone pokes me in the back. Like a feral bear, I turn around snarling. The guy gapes at me, fear flashing in his eyes.

  “I think y-you’re scaring her,” he utters, his weak ass puffing out his chest a little.

  I size him up with a nasty glare. “I think she likes to be scared.”

  His brows crash together. “Dude, you’ve got problems.”

  Fisting my hands, I bump his chest with mine. “You’re about to have one giant goddamned problem.”

  “Rome…” Her arms encircle my waist and I hiss out a breath of air. I hate that my body responds to her. Fucking always.

  “She’s mine,” I hiss at him. “Go find your own thing to toy with.”

  He opens his mouth like he’s actually going to argue back, but Courtney slides around to my front so that she’s hugging me, her perfect round tits pressed against my chest. My dick greets her with a thump. If she’s trying to distract me, it’s working.

  Her palms slide up my chest to the back of my neck and she stands on her toes. Boldly, despite me being an ass to her, she presses a wet kiss to my mouth. The douchebag mutters something about her being a party skank and the liquor in my veins ignites.

  “The fuck you say?” I roar.

  He flinches and points his finger at her. At what’s mine. “She’s your skank. Heard you loud and clear.” The asshole salutes me like this is some fucking game.

  “No,” Courtney whimpers as she climbs me like I’m a damn tree. Her legs wrap around my waist and she holds on to me like that will stop me from beating this dude’s ass.

  With the sheep who’s playing monkey attached to me, I stalk over to him. I’ll be damned if he gets away after saying that shit to me. I grab a fistful of his shirt and yank him over to me so I can get in his face. He reeks of vodka. Kid is shitfaced and acting like a little badass.

  “Apologize to her. Now.”

  “You called her a whore!” he yells back.

  A crowd begins to form and people are acting stupid yelling, “Fight, fight, fight.” It won’t be a fight. I’d knock his ass out with one punch.

  “She’s mine. I get to say whatever the fuck I want. But you,” I snarl in his face, “you don’t get to treat her that way. Fucking apologize. Now.”

  She buries her face against my chest as if she’s attempting to hide from the entire altercation. I grab onto her ass over her skirt with my free hand and kiss the top of her head.

  “Look at him,” I breathe against her hair.

  Her head turns to the side. Fucking sheep always doing as she’s told.

  “Now,” I order.

  “I’m not apologizing!”

  “One…” I warn as I try to peel my sexy problem from my body so I can beat this guy’s face in. “Two…”

  He must see the murderous rage in my eyes because he cowers. “S-Sorry. Okay? I’m sorry.” I release him and shove him away. Storming past him with Courtney still attached to my body, I scowl at anyone who looks at me wrong. Mike laughs when I pass him and I shoot him the bird. It isn’t until I’m in my bedroom with the door slammed and locked that I realize what I’ve done.

  Fuck.

  I just came to the damn rescue of my nemesis.

  “Thank you,” she mutters against my chest.

  Goddammit, why does she have to feel so perfect against me?

  Harvey Benjamin is sprawled out on the recliner in my room that sits right under the air conditioning vent. The dog continues snoring, completely unfazed that we’re here.

  With a heavy sigh, I sit on the edge of the bed. She’s straddling my thighs and her denim skirt is pushed up. My fingers ache to explore beneath her clothes. I must be drunk as shit because I’m suddenly finding it easy to forget why I’m mad at her. My dick sure as hell has amnesia.

  Her lids are heavy and her mouth is parted as she runs her fingers through my hair. As if she’s done it a thousand times. It feels familiar and yet it’s not. This is unchartered territory. Intimacy with someone I’ve spent a year obsessing over. The hate is blurring into something I don’t understand. Intensity. The feelings I have raging inside of me are simply intense. I don’t know what they are, only that they fucking consume me.

  She presses a kiss to my mouth and it seems to toss the match on my gasoline-soaked soul. I explode with need for her. Flipping us over, I attack her lips. I suck on the fat bottom one as I roam my hand over her tit. Her moans are like a song. Some song that’s stuck on repeat in my head but no matter how many times I’ve heard it, I don’t want to change it to something different.

  Her.

  Her.

  Her.

  I want her on repeat.

  Over and over and over again.

  “Rome.”

  She’s going to kill me with the way she says my name.

  “Why are you in my head?” I utter before tugging on her bottom lip with my teeth. “I can’t get you out. You’re fucking haunting me.”

  “You started it,” she accuses.

  I pull away to inspect her face. Her lips are red and swollen. Pretty blue eyes blink lazily at me. God, I want her.

  “How did I start it?” I demand, my voice husky.

  “Last night. You…”

  “I what?”

  “You made me feel again.” Tears well in her eyes and she blinks them away.

  Guilt gnaws at me. I fucked her in the back of my car. Like a skank that douchebag accused her of being. I didn’t even get her off. And earlier, in the shop, I’d lost control and gave her an orgasm. Still, it wasn’t right.

  “You get to feel when I say you feel,” I mutter as my fingers go to the button on her skirt. “You’ve not felt anything yet.”

  Her brows furl together as I unzip her skirt. She lifts her ass when I tug on it so I can free her from the clothing. Once I’ve tossed it away, I admire her tiny scrap of black panties.

  “My favorite color,” I admit as I run my fingertip along the wet spot in the center.

  She whimpers and quivers at my touch. “Mine too.”

  At this, I smirk. “Little cheerleader likes black? I was sure pink was your favorite color.”

  Her pouty lips curl into a bright, megawatt smile. I’ve never seen such a brilliant, beautiful look on her face. “I’m no cheerleader anymore.”

  I run my knuckle across her clit and laugh when she jolts in response. “What are you now?”

  “Your sheep?”

  I lift a brow. “My sheep?”


  “Your black sheep.”

  Quickly, I peel her panties down her thighs but leave them resting just above her knees. Her cunt is smooth and pink and so fucking perfect. My mouth waters for a taste. I grip her thighs and shove them to her stomach so that her pussy is available to me. Her arousal glistens at her opening and I want to suck it down my throat like motherfucking air.

  “You don’t deserve my mouth,” I murmur as I bring my mouth close to her cunt. Her scent is intoxicating. Sweet. Sensual. So her.

  “I don’t deserve you.” Her words are sad and I hate the tone.

  Only I get to make her sad. Nobody else. Not even her.

  And right now, sad is the last thing I want her to feel.

  I press a kiss to her clit and then allow myself the treat I’d been desperate for. My tongue flicks out for a taste. I run the tip along her seam and feast on her cunt that tastes better than anything I’ve ever had before. Her moan is like an accelerant on the fires raging within me. I spear my tongue between her lips and breach the place my dick was at just last night. Her fingers tangle in my hair as her heels bob against my upper back, almost as if to urge me on.

  I lose control.

  I devour.

  I suck and fuck and take.

  She’s mine.

  Pulling her lips apart with my thumbs, I expose her sensitive pink flesh. I blow on it and tease it with small bites. I lick and suck until she’s begging me for release.

  “Say it,” I order against her clit. “You know what I want to hear.”

  “Oh, God, your dirty talk is so hot,” she whimpers.

  I capture her small bud of nerves between my teeth. A motherfucking warning.

  “Rome,” she breathes.

  “Good girl,” I murmur before sucking on her clit.

  This goes on and on. The teasing from me and begging from her. Each time she says my name in that desperate moan of hers, I go wilder with lust. When I think she’s had enough dancing on the edge, I thrust my finger inside her and snarl against her cunt. I’m an animal as I devour her sweet pussy. Her screams are my only warning before her body clenches hard around my finger. A gush of arousal leaks from her body and I suck it until she’s clean.