Fuck it.
I pivot back around on my bare toes. “That’s okay. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your fun,” I say with a pointed look and gesture to the white residue coating her left nostril. “Clean it up, coke whore.” Whitley’s hand flies to hide her nose, her shocked expression quickly morphing into one of contempt.
“I don’t want to see her in our house again,” I say, focusing my attention on Dash.
I try to catch Ash’s eye to gauge his reaction. If he’s surprised or disappointed, it doesn’t show. I don’t know what would be worse. Doing drugs with Whitley in my bathroom, or doing her in my bathroom.
“Agreed,” Dash says, crossing his arms. “What the fuck are you thinking, bringing that shit around my baby sister?”
Or, you know, at all.
“Annnnd, that’s our cue to leave,” Nat drawls out, and this time, I listen. Adrian gives me an awkward head pat as I walk past, like he wants to comfort me but doesn’t quite know how, and Dash casts me a suspicious look—seeing through my shitty façade—that says we’ll talk about this later. I give him a short, reluctant nod before walking out to the pool without sparing a backward glance.
“Fuck him,” I announce for what is probably the eighteenth time in the past two hours.
“I concur. Fuck him with something hard and sandpaper-y,” Nat agrees, blowing out a cloud of smoke from the blunt between her fingertips. Turns out, this is the “other things” she mentioned earlier. Nat is pretty much the female Snoop in that sense. It’s not usually my thing. Not that I have anything against it, I just always end up eating everything in a ten-mile radius, then passing out—in that order. Tonight seemed like a good night for it, though.
“Without lube,” I add, and we both erupt into a fit of laughter. The pool deck is cool against my skin, but the pool that I’m swishing my feet through feels more like bath water. I look up at the stars as our giggles fade into the night, feeling content to stay in this spot until morning. Until forever. We lie in comfortable silence for a few minutes, side by side, before I break the quiet.
“I think something bad happened to Asher…and I think it’s my fault,” I whisper, voicing my fear aloud for the first time.
“What?” Nat coughs, turning on her side to face me. I stay on my back, eyes on the stars. “Why would you even think that?”
“I don’t know,” I say, dragging my fingers through my hair. “He keeps insinuating that I’ve betrayed him somehow, and there’s only one thing I can think of.” I’ve never told anyone this before. Not Natalia. Not Dash. And definitely not Asher.
“Okaaay,” she says warily.
“I was so upset when he left, Nat. You have no idea. I felt abandoned and hurt and so stupid for ever thinking he could return my feelings. After he left, I rode my bike over to his house. I guess I couldn’t believe that he was really gone. But then, I saw his dad in the window, stumbling through the living room, and it all shifted. I just wanted to hurt him. I wanted to hurt him for hurting Asher.
“I hated him in that moment. Every bad thing that ever happened to Ash was because of him, or at least that’s what I thought back then. So, I picked up a rock and threw it right through his window.”
“You what?!” Nat sputters out a laugh.
“I totally did.” Despite my mood, I feel my lips tugging into a grin at the memory. “And it felt good for a whole two seconds.”
“What happened then? And why did you say that’s what you thought back then?”
I exhale loudly, feeling particularly ashamed about this part.
“Instead of running, I just stared him down through his open window like a creep. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t afraid of him. But, he ended up telling me that I needed to fix his window or else he’d tell my parents what I’d done.”
“You didn’t.” Nat cackles. “Only you, Briar Vale, would bust someone’s window and then put it back together.”
“Shut up.” I roll my eyes. “I didn’t want them finding out. You know how my mom is about keeping up appearances, and my dad and Dash were constantly at each other’s throats then.” Nat nods, because she knows better than anyone. “I did the shittiest job in the history of ever. I had no idea what I was doing. I thought I’d show up and he’d at least give me some kind of direction, but nope.” The word pops from my lips. “He just sat in that recliner, waiting for me to figure it out.”
“Anyway, it took a while, and in that time, he told me stories that made me see things…differently. Things that I’m not even sure Ash knows. I still hated him for how he treated Ash, but for the first time, I realized that nothing was black and white. People are flawed, and sometimes, good intentions aren’t enough.”
“I realized fairly quickly that he wasn’t doing well. So, I checked on him a couple of times a month, brought him food, made sure he had clean laundry, and he’d tell me stories about Asher as a kid. It made me feel closer to Ash.”
Dash told me about John having liver cancer, and I wondered if that’s what had been wrong with him. If I would have said something, insisted he go to the doctor, maybe, would he still be dying right now?
“But how does that make what happened your fault?”
“I don’t know.”
And I don’t. I don’t even know what happened, but it’s the only thing I have to go on that makes even a little sense.
Suddenly, there’s a splash at the opposite end of the pool, and we both scream and sit up, not having heard anyone come out here. I squint my eyes, trying to make out the details in the dim patio lighting. All I can see is a mop of dark hair, and broad, powerful shoulders gliding through the water. Asher.
Sure enough, it’s Asher that comes up, stopping directly before us. His shirt is molded to his chest, showing off the muscles in his arms and stomach, and his hair hangs in his eyes. Water drips down the bridge of his nose, onto those full lips. He stares directly at me, not breaking eye contact when he reaches for the towel bunched up next to me and rubs it across his face and hair before tossing it back to the deck.
Ash reaches over, plucking the blunt from Nat’s hand, and takes a big hit.
“You can leave now,” he says, eyes still focused on me.
Nat looks to me, silently questioning whether I want her to go or not. I give her a nod, and she stands, pointing a finger in Ash’s direction. “Break her heart again, and I’ll break your dick.” She knows better than to wait for a response, so she walks off.
Ash takes another couple of hits before flicking it behind him to land in the pool.
“How did you get here?” His truck has a very loud, distinct sound that I’ve memorized over the past few weeks. I didn’t hear a thing…until he dove into my pool, anyway.
“Cab. Rode with your brother and Adrian. They weren’t ready to come home yet. I was.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to make of that. I wonder what Whitley thought about that, but I don’t care enough to ask.
“Funny,” he says, in a way that lets me know what he’s about to say isn’t going to be funny at all, “you made such a big deal about Whitley doing blow— meanwhile, you’re out here getting high.”
“Please. Weed isn’t a drug. Not really.”
“The point is, you’re not only a liar, but now you can add hypocrite to the list. That’s a far cry from the perfect little Briar that I used to know.” Asher stalks toward me, and I put my foot out to keep him from getting too close. His words cause something to snap, and I’m suddenly so sick of his vague put-downs.
“What the hell did I do to you, Asher?! Just spit it out already or shut up about it!” He comes closer, my foot pressing against his chest.
“Maybe I want you to spit it out. To take responsibility for something for once in your privileged little life,” he grits out.
“I’m done playing these games.” My voice is quiet. Resigned. “We’ll keep going around and around on this merry-go-round forever if one of us doesn’t get off. I’m getting off, Ash.” I push
off his chest and twist my body to stand up, but before I can do so, his hand grips my ankle and he yanks. Hard. My ass slides across the smooth stone deck, and then I’m in the water, wrapped around him.
“You’re getting off, all right,” he says menacingly, locking his arms around me to keep me in place. “But not in the way you think.”
I struggle against him, unlatching my legs and trying to slide down his body. My center rubs against his abs, and then I feel something harder prodding at me.
“You don’t make any sense,” I say, feeling more confused than ever. “You’ve made it abundantly clear that you despise me.”
“I don’t have to like you to fuck you, baby girl.”
“You fucked me and left me,” I remind him. My voice cracks, and I hope he doesn’t catch it. “You ignored me for weeks, then you bring her to my house.”
No longer struggling to get away, my legs float lifelessly on either side of him, and his hands start kneading my ass, making me rub against him again.
“I heard what you said about John,” he says, calling his father by his first name like always, and my body goes rigid, eyes go wide. I have no idea how he’s going to react to hearing that I not only saw his dad after he left, but inadvertently ended up with some sort of unlikely friendship. Although, friendship might be too strong a word for the relationship I had with John. It was complicated and unconventional, but we had both lost Asher, even if his actions were the catalyst.
“Seems you’re keeping more secrets than I thought.” He rubs my sides up and down before tugging the strings on my bottoms, causing them to fall off.
“That’s it, I swear,” I say on a gasp.
“You’re a liar, Briar.” He licks a tear that I didn’t know was there as his hand curves around my butt cheek and two fingers circle my entrance before hooking inside me. My head drops to the soaked shirt plastered to his shoulder, and I grind against his fingers. “But I want you, anyway.”
Before I can respond, he frees himself from his pants, and I’m sliding down his formidable length. A moan slips free as my arms wrap around his neck, holding his head to my chest, and my legs lock around his waist. I’m so full of Asher, physically, emotionally, mentally. This is pathetic. No matter how many times he burns me, I go back for more. I need him like a bad habit—one that I don’t want to kick. He cradles me—one hand wrapped around my waist, the other forearm spans the length of my spine, and his fingers curl around my shoulder—holding me close as he pumps into me. Using his teeth, he pulls the thin triangle of my top to reveal my nipple that hardens in response to the night air. Asher sucks it into his mouth, reaching to untie the strings around my back and neck.
My movements become a little more frantic—a little jerkier—as I grind against him, using my weightlessness in the water to my advantage.
“Fuck,” Ash groans after pulling away from my chest. Gripping me by the waist, he abruptly lifts me to sit on the edge of the pool again.
“What?” I ask breathlessly. He can’t stop now.
“Spread your knees and put your heels on the edge.” It’s an order, and I’m all too eager to comply, scooting close to the edge and leaning back on my palms. Ash peels his T-shirt off and flings it. Before I hear the wet plop of it landing, his hot mouth meets my slick center. I jerk forward, and he grips my ankles, chuckling darkly, holding me in place.
His tongue takes another long swipe, and my head falls back at the sensation. I’m completely naked, on display for anyone who might decide to walk out here as Asher eats me wildly, savagely. He laps at me, from top to bottom and everywhere in between. Releasing one of my ankles, he uses his free hand to fist his length. Asher pulls back to look at me as he strokes himself, the glistening head of his cock barely visible above the surface, but I can still make out the glint of his piercings.
“Sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he mutters before diving back in. The sight of him working himself, getting off to tasting me, has me gripping his head, holding him in place.
“Make me come, Asher,” I beg in a voice that I don’t even recognize.
“Gladly.”
His fist around his cock moves faster, and then he’s shoving two fingers inside me as he pulls my clit between his teeth and sucks.
I explode, unable to keep quiet and uncaring of the repercussions, as Asher groans, his own release spilling into the pool.
Chapter 7
Asher
Briar slumps back to the deck, completely boneless, as I hoist myself up and over the edge. I struggle to pull my soaked jeans off, opting to leave my boxers on for now. Through it all, she doesn’t make any move to get up.
Briar’s outstretched arms lie limp at her sides, her bare tits heave, and goose bumps prickle her skin. Her eyes are closed, wet lashes hitting the tops of her cheeks, and her plump lips are parted. My dick jerks, already wanting round two.
Fuck, I need to get it together. This girl is fucking with my head. I don’t know how to feel about her little story about my dad. My initial reaction was to go find a wall to smash my fist through. Not only did she have me sent away and stripped me out of my chance at college, but then she spent time with the person she was so concerned about? John conveniently left that part out. Briar wants to see the good in everyone. That’s just who she is. Was. Fuck, I don’t know anymore. Who knows what lies John filled her pretty little head with, and she probably fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. Not even that could keep me from wanting her, though.
I don’t know why I let Dash and Adrian talk me into going to the East Side tonight. Clubs aren’t my scene, and the whole time all I could picture was Briar’s face when she saw Whitley and me walking out of the bathroom together. Then, I got mad at myself for giving a shit how she felt. Nothing happened—of fucking course, nothing happened because I wouldn’t even touch Whitley with someone else’s dick—but even if I wanted to explain, Dash might wonder why I’m defending myself to his little sister.
The second Whitley showed up, sniffling, bouncing from foot to foot, and talking a mile a minute, I knew she was coked-up. I know because I used to do it with her. So, when she decided to go powder her nose—literally—I followed her and tore her a new asshole for doing that shit here. I honestly don’t know why any of us put up with her anymore. She used to be cool, once upon a time, and like the horny, asshole teenagers that we were, we took advantage of the fact that she threw herself at us. But then, she got into drugs, and while I’m guilty of partaking, it was never a problem for me. Whitley definitely has a problem, and I think we all just feel stuck with her, and tolerate her, like a drunk uncle during the holidays.
Whatever the fuck Briar and I are doing is pointless. There are too many obstacles standing in the way for this to end well. Allowing Briar to believe that I invited her, yet again, or that we hooked up, was my way of ending shit between us. Yet, here I am, scooping her listless body into my arms and carrying her through the house and back to her room right after finding out that her betrayal goes even deeper than I thought. Because I can’t fucking quit her.
I went back to River’s Edge for two weeks to do just that. I took on another job and caught up with Dare and our other friends. I just needed some distance, to recalibrate without Briar inadvertently seducing me at every turn. But the time away has done nothing to dull the attraction. Three years didn’t do it, so it was stupid to think two weeks would suffice.
“What are you doing?” she asks, covering herself with one arm. The other curls around the back of my neck.
“Taking you to bed,” I say, kicking her bedroom door open.
“Are you staying with me?”
I falter, not expecting the question, before looking down at her big blue eyes.
“Do you want me to?”
Briar nods wordlessly, and I lay her down before taking off my boxers. She arches a brow.
“I’m not sleeping in wet clothes,” I explain, and she bites her lip, looking directly at my cock.
“Don’t
look at me like that,” I warn.
“Or what?”
“Or else I’ll fuck you again, and this time, I won’t hold back.”
“You’ve been holding out on me?” she asks, a playful lilt to her voice. I groan and climb into bed next to her.
“Don’t tempt me. Go to sleep.”
“Yes, sir,” she mumbles, nuzzling her way under my arm and resting her head on my chest.
“Comfy?” I ask, sarcasm lacing my tone.
“Mhm.”
We’re both silent, her naked body against mine, as I trace her soft skin from her ribs to the curve in her hip. I’m drifting off when I hear her whisper, “I’ve missed you.”
You can’t miss something you never had, but I don’t correct her, because I feel it, too. Being with Briar like this feels like what I’ve been missing my entire life.
It’s a shame it won’t last.
I wake up, my mouth drier than Gandhi’s flip-flop, to curious, delicate fingers, tentatively skimming the sensitive underside of my cock. Briar traces my frenum piercings, and I groan at the sensation, my hips jerking forward of their own volition. Her eyes snap up to mine.
I got these piercings on a drunken dare before I was even old enough. Adrian’s doing, of course. Instead of simply accepting the challenge, I had to show off by getting two. I figured I could remove them, but it turns out they make sex a lot more fun. And right now, as Briar plays with me like I’m her new favorite toy, I’m definitely not regretting it.
“Good morning,” she says, part seductress, part innocent, before she licks the length of my dick. I shudder when her tongue brushes over my barbells, bringing my hands to rest behind my head.
“I’d say so.” My hips flex. Briar flicks underneath the tip with her tongue a couple of times before closing her mouth around me.
“Wrap your hand around it,” I say. She does as instructed, her tiny fist working my shaft while her mouth works my head.
Bad Habit Page 12
