The Elite Kings Boxset Vol. II

by Amo Jones

  Elena sits beside me on one side and Nate sits beside Madison opposite us. I don’t look at him because I can’t. The drive home is far longer than the drive there and every single mile feels like the air is being extracted out of the car.

  I feel reckless.

  I feel lost.

  But most of all, I feel nothing like me.

  Tillie

  We’re all in the pool house later that night, most of us blinded from top-shelf alcohol.

  “I’m leaving tomorrow,” I slur, standing on the middle of the coffee table. Nate and Brantley are behind me stretched out on the sofa and Bishop and Madison are in front of me on the lazy boy. Hunter, Jase, and Eli were here but disappeared, probably when they saw how dark we all were feeling. People mourn in different ways, yes, but I also feel like it depends on the ferocity of the hole that person leaves in your life. The bigger the hole, the bigger the mess.

  I lift my arm high, tears slide silently down my cheeks. Not an obvious tsunami like earlier.

  “Shut up, Tillie,” I hear from behind me, and I don’t have to turn to know who it was.

  I ignore Nate and continue dancing to “Deuces” from Chris Brown. The slow song possessing every limb of my body. If only music could seize every thought too, turning them into simple music notes instead of the ghosts that meet me behind my closed eyes. I will never recover from losing her. Not ever. There’s no point in me living the rest of life within boundaries. It’s time to shove those to the side. I just want to feel good. Sweat slides down between my boobs as I continue to dance until I trip and fall, subsequently landing on Brantley’s lap. “Talk that Talk” by Rihanna starts playing next. I lick my lip, my eyes dropping to Brantley’s mouth.

  Brantley smirks, his arm tightening around my back. He leans in closer, his lips touching my ear. “Careful, princessa. You’re fair game now.”

  My eyes flick to Nate, who is watching us carefully, a grin on his face. He has no shirt on and loose faded blue jeans. His muscles clench with every movement. I know how ripped he is, but that’s not what I’m looking at right now. Right now, I’m lost in a trance that is his stupid fucking eyes.

  “Fair game?” I ask, my voice coming out way too soft. I don’t even feel hurt. There’s so much of myself that is in pain right now, that nothing, and I mean nothing, can touch the pile of shit that’s already inside of me. Nate included. Seems he’s almost willing to test that theory though.

  The song switches to “Blueberry Yum Yum” by Ludacris, just as Nate blows out a cloud of smoke from inhaling his joint.

  “Yeah, B. You’re fair game.” Nate flicks his hand out, gesturing to my body but looking at Brantley. “Have at it. You two have been dripping all over each other from the beginning. Go on.” He leans back on the sofa, his legs spread wide with a joint hanging between his fingers. I snort, turning around to face Madison and Bishop but staying on Brantley’s lap. Brantley doesn’t touch me. Merely leaves me there, allowing me to grace his lap with my presence. Trust me, any girl who Brantley doesn’t want on his lap will not be there. He’s particular with who he allows to bounce around on him, even more so than Bishop. I swear these guys are the biggest motherfuckers to ever walk this shitty, fucked up world.

  I watch as Madison takes a line of cocaine and then clears her nostril, grinning at me. “Care to pop that cherry?”

  I want to.

  No I don’t.

  Yes, I do.

  Wait. “Will it fix me?”

  Madison cranks her head. “No. Drugs don’t fix people. They just numb the broken ones.”

  I could do with some numbing. I gesture for the rolled up hundred-dollar bill and reach for it. Last time I did this Nate whacked it out of my hand—even though I wasn’t going to try it that time. This time, he’s ignoring me. Not caring. Cold and distant. I don’t blame him.

  I lean down and snort the line, the taste of harsh chemicals hitting the back of my throat on the first suction. I clear my nose and lean up, handing it back to Madison. Everything feels semi-better. Like I can handle being alive for a little longer. Maybe this isn’t too bad. I could do this. For now. Turning around to face Brantley, he’s grinning at me in the way Brantley does. Sometimes, which admittedly isn’t often because he’s so serious. When his legs widen, and he looks to his dick before looking back up at me under hooded eyes, I almost jump on him. “Gods and Monsters” by Lana Del Ray starts playing and I slowly start dancing on Brantley, my ass digging into his crotch. I feel him expand under my butt and a shock of power surges through me. The thing with power, though, is it cuts out. His hand comes to my throat and he pulls my body down against his chest, his other hand coming up my inner thigh. “Wanna fuck me, regina meis?” my queen.

  I gulp, my eyes drifting open and closed. When they open, Bishop and Madison are making out on the lazy boy in front of me. Madison stands and slowly removes her shirt, leaving her standing there in nothing but her little white panties and lace bra. She winks at me, her head swinging from left to right. Bishop’s eyes are lazy, heavy and on her.

  I lick my lips. “Yes.”

  Nate chuckles beside me, and then moves to the center of the room. He goes to the table with the coke on it as Brantley’s hand comes up my inner thigh, his pinky slipping beneath my panties. Nate’s eyes are still on mine as he leans down, pressing the rolled-up bill up one nostril. On mine as he leans down and positions the tip to the start of the dusted trail. And still on mine as he takes his hit. Just as he sucks it all in, Brantley’s finger slips inside of me and I moan, biting my lower lip. My eyes flick to Madison who is straddling Bishop’s lap, his hands on her ass as he directs her grind over his crotch. Her head tilts, the ends of her hair touching her lower back, and just as Brantley’s thumb presses against my clit, Bishop flicks off her bra.

  “I was never there” from The Weeknd starts straying through the room, my head pounding and lost in the moment. When my eyes open again, Nate is standing directly in front of me and my heart thunders in my chest. His fingers wrap around my chin as he tilts my head up to him. Brantley’s fingers are working hard inside of me, his thumb pressing against my clit. My breathing is rough and hard, but my eyes are on Nate.

  My eyes drop to his crotch and I bite on my lip. Nate chuckles, then lowers himself to my level. “You like that?” He asks, tilting his head, his eyes going straight to Brantley’s hand that’s under my skirt. Nate’s hand touches my other thigh, his eyes staying on mine.

  “Play with her tits. She likes that, but you gotta be rough.”

  I know that without the mask of my pain, what’s happening right now would hurt me. It would hurt me to see his disinterest in me and treating me like one of the EK hoes that they always have hanging off them. I can’t find that hurt because the pain of losing the most important person to me is a darkness so bleak that it hides everything else.

  I close my legs and wriggle, grabbing the ends of my dress. When Brantley realizes what I’m trying to do, he pulls his fingers out and I removed my dress, now I’m standing there in nothing but my Victoria Secret panties that have the word SECRET stamped over my lower belly.

  “Take them off…” Brantley orders, and I spin around to face him, knowing damn well Nate is right behind me, my ass directly in his face. It’s about to get closer, because I hook my thumbs under the bands and wriggle my panties down, making sure to bend over, my eyes staying on Brantley. I rest my hands on either side of him, and open my mouth, my tongue poking out slightly. Brantley grins, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. He presses his finger that is still slick with my wetness inside my mouth and groans. “Damn. She’s fucking bad.”

  My lips wrap around his finger as I suck myself off him. “Numb. The word you’re looking for isn’t bad, it’s numb.”

  Nate’s fingers grip around my hips and his mere touch goes straight to my chest. I know he’s using me right now, and this scene right here isn’t something that would be happening on a day that he thinks he cares about me. At least cares enough
to not share me. But maybe I’m using him too. And Brantley. I can hear Madison moaning in the background and the sound of flesh slapping together. It smells like rich cologne, perfume, weed, cigarettes and candy. Sex. It smells like sex. I feel the tip of Nate’s cock press against me from behind and I moan, my head tilting back.

  Brantley takes a swig of whiskey, his eyes going over my head. His jaw flexes a few times, and then he mutters, “Can she fucking touch it at least?”

  What? I missed something.

  Brantley starts unzipping his jeans, and my eyes fall to his crotch. Nate slams inside of me and I let out a slight scream, my back arching. I feel myself clench around his thickness and my eyes roll to the back of my head, my thoughts lost in pleasure taking ownership of my dark thoughts. In Nate. Lost in Nate, but slightly distracted by Brantley’s cock. Two small silver balls are on either side of his tip, and then there’s a ladder going down his shaft. Holy fuck. I didn’t expect him to have his cock pierced. I somewhat expected Nate to have it, since he has other piercings. Nose, tongue, and nipples. Brantley has none—just his cock.

  Butterflies roar inside of me, excitement lashing through my blood like a lethal injection of heroin. I reach for it, my hand clenching around his hardness. I feel Nate’s grip on my hips squeeze tighter and I flinch from the pain. That was fucking sore. Angry at him, I start tugging on Brantley and watch as one of the scariest guys I have ever met starts to come undone under my hand. He sucks in a breath, his eyebrows crossing as his eyes come to mine. My mouth waters and I want nothing more than to take him between my lips and suck him deep into my throat. Nate hits me hard from the back and I moan again, riding the wind of pleasure that tears through me like a category five tsunami. Fuck it. I lower my face closer to his dick, but Nate’s hand slams against my throat and clenches.

  He yanks my head backward, his lips coming to my ear. “If you want to be able to walk after I’m done fucking you, I’d advise you not to wrap those pretty little lips around his cock.”

  Brantley rolls his eyes, his head tilting back to rest on the sofa. “Pussy.”

  I continue rubbing Brantley’s cock, his thighs clenching under my touch. A bead of cum spills over the tip and I use the cushion of my thumb to massage it over him. I’m so close. Nate’s hand comes to my tit as his cock fills me relentlessly, his balls slapping against my clit. I can feel a slight sting ring out around me down there from the slaughter, but I ignore it, dancing on the line that crosses pain and pleasure. Hot cum shoots out of Brantley’s dick and I slow my tugging to a soft massage, pointing his cock onto my tits. Brantley grins and winks at me. A small “fuck you” to Nate. But then I’m screaming in my own pleasure because my orgasm slams into me at lightning speed and I feel Nate’s cock pulsing inside of me. We’re all panting, our breaths slowing as Nate pulls out, his hot cum dripping down my thighs on his extraction. His finger comes to my inner thigh and he swipes up his cum, then I feel his finger come to my mouth. I keep my eyes on Brantley and suck, twirling my tongue around him.

  Brantley groans, snatching the pack of smokes from the sofa and putting one in his mouth. “Fuck me. Lucky bastard.”

  Nate disappears, taking his presence with him and I instantly miss his touch.

  “Was. Was a lucky bastard,” he corrects as he comes back in. He shoves on his jeans, leaving them unbuttoned to hang around his hips and putting a smoke in his mouth, even though I know he hates cigarettes. He lights it and blows out the smoke, dropping onto the ground to lay on his back, watching the ceiling. I want to climb onto his lap. I want him. His touch. I want him to tell me we will get through this together. But I’m deluded. He plays with his phone, and then “American Psycho” from D12 starts playing. When the chorus comes on with Eminem, he raps it perfectly.

  Madison laughs, and it shocks me because I almost forgot about her and Bishop having sex right opposite me. Any other person would be embarrassed, maybe even a little awkward, but it’s not like that with us. It doesn’t feel that way. Madison comes over to me, wasted off her head and naked up top—panties on bottom. She takes my hand and tugs me to my feet. Bishop hits the light, leaving nothing but the outside illumination of the pool spilling into the room. It’s enough to give more of a laid-back vibe, without being completely dark. I love it, it feels secluded. I’ve got to admit, the coke is lame. I don’t know why Madison has been doing it lately. I mean the guys have always done it as a party “upper,” but Madison? I need to talk to her about that one day. When I can be bothered. I yank my panties on since I was still fully naked and dance with Madison to the song until it changes.

  Madison’s hands come to my cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

  “Shut up, Madz,” I whisper, shaking my head.

  She kisses me on the lips, her breasts pressing against mine. She pulls back, searching my eyes. “Okay. I’ll shut up. Let’s just dance.”

  We dance for hours until sweat drips off us and a soft burnt orange touches the sky.

  “Baby,” I hear Nate’s soft voice from the bed. I look toward him, tilting my head. I lived through last night, and now I’m sober. “Come here.”

  Like a good puppy dog, I go to him. One last time, because after this, there will be no alcohol to cloud my thoughts. There will definitely be no drugs, and finally, there will be no Nate and Tillie.

  Nate

  I can’t seem to think straight. I don’t want to think straight. I want to tear apart every single fucking straight thing in this piece of shit world and rip it to fucking shreds.

  I’m angry.

  I have a rage burning in the pit of my stomach that is untamable.

  Turning to my side, I clench my jaw, hate seething to the surface. Is it hate if it makes your fucking heart beat faster? My eyes fall to her perfect soft lips, how they curve and dip in all the right places. Her thick eyelashes that are naturally fluffy but tamed and arched in a way I know most bitches would pay money for. The natural glow of her flawless skin with a complexion that could be painted on. Her thick dark eyelashes that fan out over her high cheekbones, and the fact that I know when she opens those perfect almond eyes, the brightest aqua ocean is going to fucking drown me. Her hair is still pink, though a little faded now, but when it’s not pink, you could see that it was blonde. Same as Micaela. Every fucking thing about Tillie is Micaela.

  My heart seizes in my chest and I fly off the bed, tears threatening to prick the corners of my eyes again. I hate that I can’t stand to be around her. She’s a constant reminder of how I was given the most beautiful girl in the world, and I ruined it. My hands are not made to carry pretty things, they were made to destroy them. I couldn’t even take care of my daughter, and that was the one thing every father has to do. Hell, even junkies and deadbeats manage to not lose their kids the way I have.

  I pick up my phone and walk out of the room, dodging Brantley’s body that’s sprawled out on the floor. “Motherfucker.” I shake my head but chuckle. I don’t know if last night was a good idea. I know that his cock is hard for her, and I think I just made it worse, contributing to their foreplay. I’m shaking my head when the edge of something brown catches my eye under the bed. I reach forward, pulling it out while checking that Tillie is still asleep. Her mouth opens slightly, a small snore leaving her mouth. Yeah, no one is touching you for as long as you live. I’ll make sure of it. At the very least, he would need to not be a piece of shit like me.

  Back to the box, I pull it out and see the words Puer Natus carved into the wood. I freeze. I know what the fuck this is and why it’s here. But how the fuck did Tillie come about it and why the fuck hasn’t she said anything. My eyes flick up to her body and then I stammer through the pages. Sketch after sketch flipping past me.

  I put the book back under the bed and stand, making my way out of the house. Yeah, this is not fucking good. We had a fucking deal.

  I climb the stairs, making my way up to my room while hitting dial on the foreign number.

  “Hello?” Peyton says.

 
; My jaw clenches. “We need to fucking talk.”

  “You know where I am…”

  I hang up on her and have a quick shower, scrubbing away the cigarettes I decided to smoke last night and the coke I hardly ever snort. Once I’m done, I dial Hector on my way out. I’m beeping my car unlocked when he answers.

  “We need to talk. Now.”

  I short shift all the way into the city, frustrated with ghosts whispering from their grave, sharing secrets they shouldn’t be sharing. If Tillie finds out what’s at the end of that book, and if she takes her place as it should be and as it is written, then we’re all fucked. Her included.

  I pull into the underground parking to one of the properties Hector is developing for us in the city. It’s going to be The Kings new HQ, because Bishop didn’t want to bring business back to his home. Typical Bishop, still bleeding secrets into his and Madison’s relationship over a year in. Don’t know how he does it. I’d rather cut myself open and let my secrets spill. Then I’ll be able to see if my girl will let them drown her or learn to swim through them. If she drowns, she drowns, but if she swims, I’ll be waiting on the other side ready to play with her tits.

  I already know where Tillie would fall on this scale. She has proved time and time again that she can handle any and everything. But she won’t be able to handle the end of that book—and neither will I.

  I slam my door closed and head straight for the elevator. There are three levels, and although they’re not done yet, the third level is almost finished, which will be where we will be conducting most of our business. With Hector stepping down next year, Brantley and I have already decided we will be stepping up as Bishop’s right- and left-hand men. The rest of the boys are going off to college, but they’re still Kings, nonetheless. They just have the option to go off and have a life. A family. Jobs. But when the bell is calling, they always have to come running. Unless they want to be ridiculed and thrown into The Rebels. Our gen is good. It’s solid. I know Hunter wants in with us too, but Jase won’t let him because he wants him to try out a “normal” life.