Thinking these thoughts and wanting to flirt with Lark is completely wrong and immoral, he’s Falcon’s little brother for God’s sake, but the impulse is just too powerful to deny and my only other choice is to have a breakdown and feel every emotion I refuse to give into.
He grips my wrist, bringing my hand over the sink. He sees some of my scars but doesn’t linger on them too long. Lark twists the cap off the peroxide and douses my palm with the cold liquid and my knees next. It bubbles on top of the cuts and drops of foamy peroxide and blood slide down the basin, swirling down the drain.
Lark places a hand on my cheek. “The alcohol might hurt a little. Are you ready?”
Nodding, I bite the side of my lip.
He nods as well, dropping his hand and quickly untwisting the cap of the bottle and swiftly pour alcohol over my wounds. It burns but it’s not too bad. Lark pads it dry with a clean paper towel and then gingerly wraps my hand in white badge.
When he’s all done I lean forward and rest my sticky forehead on chest, my hands clenching the sides of his black graphic T-shirt. Lark supportively strokes my back, chuckling. “It didn’t hurt that bad, did it?”
“No. Thank you,” I whisper seductively. “I’m really glad you helped me.”
I feel him tense. “N-no problem. Anytime.”
I pull him closer between my legs. “How old are you, Lark?”
“Umm,” he nervously clears his throat, “turned eighteen three months ago. Why?”
“Just making sure you’re legal.” My fingers dig into his sides as I stare up at him, wide-eyed and pleading.
His hands rest on my hips and his brows draw together, and for the first time I notice that he wears thick, smudged black eyeliner on his lower lids. It brings out the gold flecks in his eyes. Lark is dressed in a black graphic-T that has a picture of a human heart ripped inside out, fitted black pants with many slanted zippers on the sides, black boots. His style is very edgy and rocking roll.
Leaning forward, I press a kiss at the base of his throat. He smells slightly like Falcon but sweeter somehow.
Lark sucks in a sharp breath. “What’s happening?” But it’s like he’s asking himself more than me.
“Whatever you want to happen,” I purr, pulling him closer against me.
His fingers flex on my hips. “I think you’re trying to seduce me Mrs. Robinson.”
“And I think you’re absolutely right, my dear Benjamin.” Guiding his hands, I urge them up inside the skin of my thighs. They pause with defiance at the opening of my dress.
“You’re hurting, Isabel,” he states softly, eyes narrowing, finding something I don’t like.
My hands fumble to his studded belt and begin to unfasten it from the buckle. “Make it better then.”
His head drops and his eyes shut tight, the features of his face morphing into emotions that resembles pain, desire, bafflement. Lark’s fingers bury into my flesh, causing me to groan. “I don’t know what’s more fucked up, you wanting to use me to fill an empty void or me wanting to get a taste of you because you’re pretty and smart and off-limits. You’re forbidden fruit, Isabel. You’re my brother’s ex-girlfriend and my best friend’s sister.” His hands glide up my thighs, fingers skillfully brushing the lace sides of my panties, gripping the delicate material in his hands.
My heart is roaring in my ears, like powerful and uncontrolled thunder.
One hand strays away from my hip, lowering to the area under my dress and between my legs.
I wrap my arms around his neck and he presses his lips to the shell of my ear.
Two fingers skillfully stroke at the wetness outside of my underwear.
Stifling a moan, I hold Lark tighter to me.
“What happens after a quick fuck in my bathroom? You thank me and we part ways, pretending it never happened? We both live with the crushing guilt and never speak a word of this to Falcon or anyone else? And when we happen to occasionally run into each, we both smile and say hasty greetings, trying our best not to appear awkward and ashamed of our secretive past? Because I can almost guarantee that’s how it’s gonna go. And I respect you way too much for that bullshit.”
Lark’s fingers have me on edge. Every muscle in my body is twitching, coiled so tight. All I need is few more light strokes to reach my heavenly orgasm that I’ve been deprived of for so long now. But he doesn’t continue. He drops his hands at his sides, chest heaving and takes a few backward steps, eyes locked on mine.
What he said is too true to deny. Because of this, I burst into tears.
Chapter nineteen
Show & Tell
Mrs. Handler crashes through the door wearing a bright yellow nightie, her chestnut-colored hair spilling down her shoulders, and a sea green mask paste smeared all over her face in some kind of nightly facial. Her phone plastered to her ear. Once she assesses the situation, she sighs in relief, placing a dramatic hand on her heaving chest. Her concerned eyes shift to Lark. “Christ, I thought someone was dying.”
He shrugs, nonchalantly. “Isabel hurt her hand. The cut is kinda deep.” I’m so thankful that he’s covering for me.
I’m such an idiot.
Her panicked brown eyes flicker to me. “Are you okay, darling? Do you need a ride to the hospital?”
“N-n-no,” I stammer. “I’m okay, thanks to Lark.” I lift my bandaged hand to show her his handiwork.
She nods, then mutters into her cell. “Listen, Gina, I have to go. Isabel hurt her hand. I have to make sure she’s alright.” A short pause and then, “Yes, that Isabel. Isabel Waters.”
I can’t help but think of what they’re referencing me to.
The mentally unstable Isabel Waters?
The suicidal Isabel Waters?
The strange and odd Isabel Waters?
Lark shakes his head muttering something too low to hear. He moves towards me, placing a hand on my lower back. I take this as a clue and jump down off the sink counter.
“Mom, I got this. I’m gonna walk her to Rex’s house.”
Mrs. Handler frowns, phone still glued to her ear. “Are you sure?”
Lark steadies me as I sway a little. “Yes, Mrs. Handler. Thank you for offering to help.” I grip Lark’s hand, interlocking our fingers. He glances down at our entwined hands but says nothing as we wander to the door.
“Wait!” Mrs. Handler yells after us.
We both pause on our heels.
“What mom?”
I hear her rip a few pieces of tissues from the roll. She strolls in our direction and steps around us, patting my tear-stained face dry. “You look so pretty tonight. Just a little fix up is all you need.” She smiles and wipes under my eyes. Her movements are soft and gentle and familiar—a mother’s touch. Closing my eyes, I allow myself to feel the warmth of her touch and smell the refreshing scent of her sea green mask. If my mother was still alive, she would wipe my face lovingly like this and tell me that I looked pretty. “There. Perfection.” She drops her hands and I open my eyes.
Lark squeezes my hand for assurance.
“Thank you, Mrs. Handler.”
She nods, still smiling a kind smile. But before we exit out the door, she calls my name.
I turn my head back to look at her.
“I’m so sorry about Tyler. He was such a bright and loving kid. Everyone knew it.”
My heart feels like it’s been sucker punched. I need to get out of here; the pity in her sunken expression is making me sick. “Thank you, Mrs. Handler, but I have to go now.”
Lark and I remain silent, still holding hands as we amble about in the frosty night air. The dark sky is obscured with thick smoky grey storm clouds that blanket everything above. The wind is picking up, swaying the street signs and the branches of the trees. The moisture and the scent of rain are very heavy in the air. It looks bad. We pass stretches of suburbia, the brick houses are getting larger and the cars more expensive as we tread up hill. “How did you know I was going to Rex’s party?”
He
shrugs, looking straight ahead. “You’re dressed like a beauty queen.”
“Why aren’t you there?”
He dips his head down to look at me. “Seriously?” He sounds offended.
“Yeah.”
“Tyler, Hero, and I are like outsiders, or were like outsiders. It was the three of us against the world. We were all ostracized through no fault of our own. Tyler because of his sexuality. Hero because of his affiliation with Tyler and me because of Falcon. Rex is the head honcho around here, just like Max was. Things never change in Cherry Creek; the cycle repeats itself over and over again. This town is full of ignorant and intolerant people. As soon as I graduate, I’m headin’ up north. New York.”
“Yeah? What’s your goal?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe start a rock band and get famous. Or fall back on my genetic gifts and model. I’ll let you know once I do.” He laughs a sad, humorless laugh. “Why are you going to Rex’s party?”
“I want to see what partying with a bunch of minors is like.”
He grins. “You’re still a minor yourself.”
My face scrunches up as I tip my head back to stare at him. “I’m twenty.”
His grin broadens. “Exactly. So no alcohol for you, little one.”
I bat my lashes purposely. “Yes, Daddy.”
Lark growls, guttural and primal. “You have a daddy complex. I can work with that.”
Laughing, I playfully nudge his shoulder with mine. “I thought we were past this?”
His grips my hand tighter as we approach Rex’s house that glows a cool shade of arctic blue from the flashing lights that sit in the front yard. Obstreperously drunk people are still scattered among the vast lawn, and they all seem to watch as with morbid curiosity. Harmony isn’t anywhere in sight and my car is gone. I left my cell in the front seat. She must be looking for me.
“Just so you know, I would’ve given it to you in the worst possible way, and I mean that in good way. I used to fantasize about you a lot before Tyler…” He trails off unsure or refusing to finish his sentence. “You’re just really, extremely sexy.”
Smiling, I lift my free hand and run my fingers through his soft dark hair. “Thank you.”
His eyes crinkle at the sides and then they drift to my lips. He tilts his head to the side, as if considering something. “I say we give them something to talk about?”
I glance at the gathering crowd and look back to Lark, who is grinning from ear to ear, eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Like what?”
“A kiss?”
My fingers spasms in his hair. “Yeah?”
He nods, lowering his head. “Yeah. But you have to kiss me like you love me. Like you never want to let me go.”
“Tongues and all?”
“Tongues and all,” he confirms.
I lean forward, our lips inches apart. “You’re twisted,” I tease, but I’m excited to get a little action from him, even if it’s just a pretend I-love-you kiss.
“In the worst way,” Lark agrees, hazel eyes darkening into something dangerous and unexplored. The tip of his pink tongue skates over his lips, making my stomach flutter.
I bite down on mine.
He moves closer, slanting his head at the perfect angel, the heat of his breath washing over my face.
My lips part on their own freewill.
He presses his firm but supple lips against mine and kisses me, gentle and controlled at first but as the kiss deepens so does the intensity. His sweet-tasting tongue delves into my mouth and a small cold metal ball skillfully flicks against my tongue. I groan from the unfamiliar pleasure and Lark’s arms come around my waist, scooping me into his hard chest. Both hands tug at his hair now, urging him closer. Our lips desperately seek each other’s. My tongue tentatively meets his in a slow, assured dance. Lark’s hands reach down, cupping my ass and pressing me into his hard-on. A shiver ripples down my neck. I trap his bottom lip between my teeth and softly bite down and then suck on his lip ring. Lark shuts his eyes and moans, squeezing my butt at the same time.
“Oh, God,” he grunts, “I think I’m gonna come.”
I break the kiss and lean back, looking into murky eyes that stare back at me. “You have a tongue piercing?”
He pokes the slim pole out with a tiny ball at both ends, gripping one end between his teeth.
“That’s hot. I love you, baby.” I say it loud enough for others to hear.
He smiles, shaking his head, letting his tongue settle back in his mouth. “Daddy loves you, too.” His fingers dig into my backside, and I shudder. He inclines forward, placing his lips to the shell of my ear. “Damn, Isabel, you can kiss. I’m sort of rethinking what I said about that quick fuck in my bathroom.”
Placing my hands on his shoulder, I push him back. “Sorry. You already turned down the offer.” I lick his nose and start to stride towards the house with everyone’s mouth gaping open and wide eyes on me.
I’d rather be a whore than a suicidal freak, so eat up folks.
Chapter twenty
Infiltrating Enemy Territory
I have to maneuver through trash and hop over bottles as I navigate through the packed house. It’s crammed with sweaty teens, body to body and from wall-to-wall. A drunken dark-haired girl with a red shimmering dress and shiny silver heels runs into me, spilling some of her beer on my dress.
“OhmiGod!” She slings her now half-filled plastic cup out the way, fizzy alcohol slouching from the sides. She attempts to help me dry it with napkins on one of many tables. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I got it.”
Her hand limply drops at her side, the other holding the red cup to her mouth as she chugs down the beer.
The liquid doesn’t penetrate due to the glasslike jewels, so the dress is saved and I’m not wet.
A guy with deep brown eyes, high cheekbones, and oily hair, wraps an arm around her back. “C’mon, Apple. You promised to give it up tonight. The party is dead, now I wanna go home and get my dick wet.”
I don’t understand that in this town even the assholes and douchebags are somehow attractive. It has to be the water, or maybe the cherries.
She giggles and begins to slur. I don’t understand a word she’s saying, but the jerk-off has made his intentions crystal clear. I can’t allow him to take her home, not while she is severely intoxicated like she is.
I grab Apple’s wrist with my good hand and haul her towards me. “Sorry, but Apple promised me should stay with me tonight.”
He stares at me with his red eyes inadvertently half open. He’s obviously high, or drunk, or maybe both. “And who the hell are you?”
“Isabel. Who the hell are you?”
He points to himself, expression amused. “Me? My name…is Ricky. Ricky Patterson. And you have my girlfriend captive.”
Slanting my head, I look at Apple. Her brown eyes are round and glossy and her cheeks are very chubby with innocence and baby fat and bright pink. She’s young. Really young. “Sorry, Ricky Patterson, but Apple is staying with me tonight. She isn’t fit for any activity. I’ll take her home after I speak to Rex.”
“Rex?” a male voice chimes in.
Derrick West, Jake’s little brother, comes around the corner, butterscotch eyes on me. Derrick looks like a younger version of Jake: athletic build, brown skin the color of caramel, brilliant, hypnotic eyes the color of honey. And black buzzed-cut hair that’s shaven really close to the scalp.
He’s beautiful.
“Did you just say you had to speak to Rex?” Derrick asks, eyes narrowing.
“Uh, yeah. I just want to tell him happy birthday,” I whisper, dragging Apple closer to me.
“She won’t let Apple go,” Ricky complains.
Derrick’s eyes shift to Ricky. “I think you should go home, Rick. You’re wasted out of your mind and Apple is too. Coach already said you have one more time to slip up before he kicks you off the team. I can call him right now and express my concern of you
wanting to bring intoxicated girls back to your filthy shed and sleep with them and then tell everyone else at school. But from what I’ve heard, you’re packing something light, something unmemorable at best.”
Ricky’s mouth opens in disbelief. “You’d take that bitch’s side? You’re my teammate, man. Work with me, not against me.”
Derrick lifts his thick brows, shaking his head. “No. I don’t get down like that. Instead of gettin’ smashed, what you should have done was look out for Apple. You know what her situation is; you just don’t give a fuck. From the looks of it, she’s going to be sick. But I guess you don’t care about that, either.”
Ricky actually stomps and whines, on the verge of a temper tantrum. “Derrick, man, you don’t understand,” he grips his groin hard with one hand, “I have a problem, a sex problem. I’m a sex addict. I care for Apple, I really do. But the crying, whining, and moping is never-ending with her. I have a mother and four sisters, and I love them all. I listen to their problems all the time. But dammit, sometimes, when it comes to my girl, all I want is a nice warm hole to shove my dick in. Is that really a crime?”
I tense from the lewdness and honesty of it all.
Derrick snorts, un-amused. “Since you’re really fucked up, I’ll let that pass tonight. No girls. No nice warm holes. Go home, Rick. Get some sleep, because you’re going to need it tomorrow when I kick your ass.”
Ricky’s brows crease together. “Yeah, whatever, man.” He looks over at Apple, eyes flashing fire. “We’re over, Apple. Find someone else to whine to. I’m not your keeper. I got better things to do.” Then he stares at me. “Bitch, I hope you find Rex and get what’s coming to you; he’s just like his brother.” Without another word, Ricky stumbles down the hall and towards the exit.
Apple mumbles something too low to hear and flops down in a black folded chair by the table that’s lined with alcohol bottles and cups. Apple rests her head against the wall as her eyelids droop close.
“She’ll be fine after a vomit break and long nap.”
I nod and turn my attention back to Derrick. “What does that mean?” I ask, confused.
Pure Illusion (Web Of Deception #1) Page 11
