ECSTASY

by KV Rose

  Copyright © 2020 by K V Rose

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For more information, please contact authorkvrose@outlook.com

  Cover design © Books and Moods

  Edited by: Amy Briggs

  ISBN: 978-1-9992752-8-0 (paperback)

  ISBN: 978-1-9992752-7-3 (ebook)

  To anyone who has ever felt lost. To anyone who has ever helped someone find their way again. To the memories of those who never got to tell their stories.

  Playlist

  Check out the playlist on Spotify.

  It’s long. Really, really long.

  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

  This is not a relationship guide.

  This is not a recovery manual.

  This is not a handbook on mental health.

  This is a dark romance that holds a special place in my heart.

  Enjoy.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by K V Rose

  Alex

  “Fucking cunt.”

  She doesn’t back down. “Go fuck yourself, Alex—”

  “Nah, Za. I think I’ll have some other bitch do that for me.”

  Her blue-green eyes are narrowed into slits and usually when she gets like this, it scares me—wondering what she’s going to do next, who she’s going to try to use to fuck me over.

  But it’s too late for that because she already screwed me over for the last fucking time.

  “Get out of my house or I’ll throw you out.”

  She just smiles at me, crossing her arms over her chest. Her pale stomach is exposed, a string bikini tied around her slim hips, a scar across her left one.

  I feel my dick growing hard at the sight of her. Knowing I could take her right here. Right fucking now. Even if she put up a fight, no one would hear her scream. The music is so loud downstairs, my bedroom floor is shaking with the bass.

  And although at five eight, Za isn’t short, she doesn’t have shit on me, not to mention she’s slim as fuck.

  Just thinking about yanking her two white-blonde braids, forcing her to her knees and throat fucking her makes my chest feel tight and my hands curl into fists at my sides.

  But I can’t do it. She brings out the fucking worst in me and I can’t do this.

  Not again.

  Not anymore.

  Not after the shit she pulled last week.

  “You don’t mean it,” she tells me, switching tactics, trying to plead with me. She drops her arms, takes a step toward me. “Don’t do it, Alex, I swear I—”

  “You swear you what?” I ask, grinding my teeth. If she touches me, I swear to God, I will fucking—

  She does it.

  She closes the space between us and she fucking touches me, her fingers trail down my bare chest. All the way to my swimming trunks, and then her hand is on my dick, palming me.

  Despite my promise to myself that that was the last time, that I wouldn’t touch her again after I saw her down on her knees for Jamal Clint, my eyes flutter closed and I just...

  Goddammit, I can’t fucking stop her.

  I try to picture it. Try to think of her, high as fuck as she stumbled down the hall of that house party in Shadow Lakes. Think of how I let her go, how I shot the shit with Dwight, keeping an eye on the hallway, hoping she’d just gone to the bathroom. How I was growing so fucking impatient, but I was going to trust her. Six months together and I never had, but this time, I was going to do it.

  But ten minutes passed and even Dwight seemed concerned. He told me to go check on her.

  I did.

  She wasn’t in the bathroom.

  She was in the spare bedroom, and Jamal was moaning as she was...

  My eyes fly open and she’s already on her knees again, trying to pull down my green swimming trunks.

  No.

  I grab her by the throat, yank her up to her feet. Her fingers rise to my hand, scratching at me. And I know her. I know what she’ll try to do if I leave a bruise on her. Zara Henderson is a vindictive, manipulative, lying, druggie whore.

  I push her away, letting go of her quickly. “Get. Out,” I say again, pointing to the door.

  She rubs her hand over her throat, breathing hard. “You’re going to regret this.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, you’re fucking right. I’m going to regret not doing this shit sooner. Now get the fuck out of my house.”

  She stares at me a moment longer before she marches past me, flings open my bedroom door, and slams it shut so hard behind her it rattles the mirror hanging on my wall.

  I stare at the space she just occupied, trying to feel good about what just happened. About getting rid of her toxic bullshit. But I have a strange feeling it isn’t over. She probably has no intentions of leaving my house at all.

  I’m worried I might actually have to call the police and have her forcibly removed. The last thing I want to do is call the goddamn police because I fucking hate the cops.

  I head to my bathroom and splash cold water on my face, trying to shake that uneasy feeling that twists my stomach into knots. There’s a bottle of vodka on my bathroom counter, unopened, that I forgot to take downstairs. I twist off the cap and down as much as I can without puking.

  I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth.

  Look myself in the eye.

  I’m going to go downstairs, I’m going to get fucking hammered, and I am going to bury my dick into some other chick so I can get Zara off my mind.

  Fuck her.

  Eli

  I see Zara but she doesn’t see me.

  She’s knocking back a shot in the living room, a group of guys around her cheering her on. I glance around the room, seeing no sign of her roommate, Kylie. No surprise, even though she dropped her off. Kylie is a pre-pharm nerd, and Zara...

  Zara is something else.

  Clearly, all these dudes d
on’t know what went down with Alex and her last week or else they wouldn’t be caught dead so close to her in mine and Alex’s house.

  Especially after Jamal Clint nearly ended up in the hospital.

  But I know why they don’t know. Alex doesn’t have the balls to give her up just yet, and in the grand scheme of things, Jamal was a nobody at Caven. An unsuspecting freshman who happened to have the drugs Zara wanted and the stupidity to let Alex Cardi’s girlfriend suck his dick.

  I tip my beer up and take a swallow, keeping myself hidden in the foyer, leaning against the doorway. No one is paying me any mind.

  I prefer it that way.

  It’s why having Alex Cardi as my roommate—now housemate, I guess—is so damn beneficial to someone like me. He’s got the hot temper, the loud mouth, and the suspension for the next three football games. Always causing a fucking scene.

  I’m a wrestler and while compared to his stats, mine are far more impressive, it’s quarterbacks that get the attention in southern towns.

  Which is good.

  Because I don’t want it.

  I’ve been told more times than I care to count that I’m too quiet. That’s because when you’re quiet, people talk around you. If you never shut the fuck up, like Alex Cardi, you have no idea what’s really going on.

  And Alex might be my best friend, but it feels strange sometimes to call him that, considering I’m not sure anyone really knows me at all.

  But as Zara hops up on the coffee table in the living room and starts shaking her ass in her thong bikini, Ecstasy by Young Thug playing way too loudly, I wonder if she could.

  Because I know things about Zara Henderson.

  Things Alex doesn’t.

  For a brief moment, I think her eyes find mine, and a small smile pulls at her heart-shaped lips. A secret floating between us.

  And then I hear Alex.

  Even with the music and the people and the dancing, I hear Alex’s footsteps down the stairs, and I can almost feel his anger when he brushes past me to head into the living room, where he sees her on the coffee table. He doesn’t stop to talk, but says under his breath, “Don’t you dare fucking stop me,” so, like a good friend, I don’t.

  I just watch as the crowd parts for their quarterback and Alex grabs Zara’s arm and yanks her down from the table. Putting on a good show, she laughs, and wraps her arms around his neck.

  I don’t look away from her and I don’t stop him when he twists her in his arms, holding her back to his chest. I don’t stop him when someone hands him a beer and he guzzles it down even though I’m pretty sure he’s already fucking drunk.

  I don’t stop him as the people packed in our living room cheer, and when a girl I occasionally fuck, Rihanna Martinson, saunters over to me and wraps her arm around my waist, I don’t stop her from standing on her tiptoes and trailing sloppy kisses down my neck.

  But I don’t look away from Zara either.

  And when I see exactly what it is Alex is going to do, I don’t say a fucking word. When Zara sticks out her tongue and Alex places a pill on it, then watches as she swallows, I let Rihanna grab my dick in the shadows. When Alex hands Zara a cup, tilts it up to her lips when she doesn’t take it and makes her drink the whole thing, I keep quiet.

  I let Rihanna’s hand cup my balls.

  But it isn’t Rihanna I’m going to fuck tonight.

  Zara

  “What’re you doing?”

  Alex ignores me and I can smell the vodka on his breath. I can smell it and I know by the way he’s hanging all over me with a smile pulling up on his lips, that he’s fucking drunk.

  And that ecstasy on my tongue?

  He would’ve never given that shit to me if he wasn’t.

  What he doesn’t know—or maybe he does, and he just doesn’t give a fuck—is that I took an Addie before I crashed his stupid fucking party.

  I’m not sure how that’s going to affect my MDMA high, but either way, it’ll take half an hour for it to kick in.

  So why Alex is all over me after that shit he pulled upstairs, I don’t fucking know.

  But if he wants to put on a show, well, no one does it better than I do.

  The people packed in the living room are grinding against each other, and Alex’s hard cock is against my back as he wraps his arms around my waist.

  People dance near us, Or Nah pumping through the mounted speakers. Some girl gets close to Alex and despite his dickish behavior and his half-hearted break up, I shove her away.

  She shoots me a glare, realizes it’s me, and scurries off.

  Alex laughs against my ear, his breath on my skin sending a chill down my spine. “God, I fucking love you.”

  I want to remind him that he called me a cunt upstairs right before he tried to kick me out of his house.

  But I’ll indulge him.

  I lean my head back against his hard chest, close my eyes as his hands trail down lower, gripping my bare thighs. “I know.”

  He licks his way down my neck. “You’re such a bitch.”

  I press further back against his dick. “I know.”

  But clearly, he’s a glutton for punishment. I knew he’d do this shit, though. It’s why I didn’t leave. Yeah, maybe I sucked Jamal off but he’s nothing to me. Just a hot guy that wanted what all guys want, and I was only too happy to give it to him.

  For two reasons. One, he had something I wanted and two, Alex let Rihanna fucking Martinson kiss him on the cheek after her cheerleading practice and his football practice just before we went to that Shadow Lakes party.

  I glance toward the doorway that leads to the foyer in Alex and Eli’s house, and I catch sight of Eli.

  Rihanna has her tongue on his neck, her body pressed against his. He’s so tall, and she’s so damn short, it’s almost comical to watch.

  His eyes connect with mine.

  For a long moment, while Alex grinds his dick against my back and Rihanna dry humps Eli, we just hold each other’s gaze.

  I feel warmth spooling in my core the longer he stares at me.

  Eli, like Alex, is fucking fine. But where Alex looks like the all-American asshole that he is, Eli Addison just looks...wicked. Those hand tattoos might have something to do with it.

  He’s got black hair and dark green eyes, olive skin supposedly from the Greek mother that left him when he was a teenager, and he’s just...cold.

  Eli is cold.

  Alex is hot.

  I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to have them both buried inside of me.

  But Alex’s voice, loud above the noise of the party, startles my focus away from Eli. “Who wants to see this beautiful bitch naked?!”

  The fuck? My blood runs cold as everyone cheers around us. Before I can react, Alex leans down and murmurs in my ear, “Hear that, baby? They want to see your tits.”

  I grit my teeth, but if he wants to play this game… “Alex, you’re going to regret this,” I singsong as he runs his hands over my breasts and another cheer goes up around us. People are pressing in from all sides and if he thinks the boys here will be content to look and not touch...

  My stomach churns.

  Maybe that’s not what he thinks at all.

  “Nah, princess, I don’t think so.”

  I bristle as his hand slides up my bare stomach, his fingers edging under the cup of my bikini.

  “Alex.” My voice is strained, and I want to turn around and punch him in the fucking face, but everyone is looking at us with eager smiles, just waiting for Alex Cardi to do something fucking stupid.

  And Alex loves to give the people what they want. Fucking coward.

  I take a step away from him and turn to face him in the crowded living room as people cheer, some holding up their drinks. “You fucking asshole.”

  Six months we’ve been together, since we hooked up at my dealer’s house back in March when I transferred from ECU after a stint in rehab. Six months, and all the shit we’ve given each other, this has to be lowest of
the fucking low.

  I can’t say people didn’t warn me. My roommate, Kylie Jones, specifically said, “Alex is trouble. Stay away from him, Zara.”

  But I don’t listen well to anyone, and Kylie, as good and smart and pure as she is, was no exception.

  Alex’s dark brown eyes are gleaming, those flecks of amber magnified with the flashing lights him and his football friends set up before the party. He’s got a smile on his face, and he lifts up his red Solo cup.

  “Come back, princess,” he says, loud enough to be heard over the music. People around us are definitely staring, and I just want to get out of here. “Come back here.” He points at the spot right in front of him that I just occupied.

  The molly is making the music feel good, and the Addie is making my heart race. I need some water. I need water and I need a bed. A safe place. Or else I’ll end up doing something stupid tonight. And with the way Alex is looking at me right now, that something stupid will be him.

  “I’m leaving,” I tell him, and turn to go. He wanted me out anyway.

  But apparently, not that badly. He grabs my wrist, yanks me back to him and another cheer goes up from the dozens of people packed in this fucking house. He pulls me to his chest, my back against him. He wraps his arm around my waist, not letting me go.

  “Let’s give the people what they want.”

  I grab his forearm, digging my black-painted nails into his skin. “Let. Me. Go.”