by KV Rose
People are standing around the table clapping and cheering as she spins faster and faster.
One dude with short, bleached-blonde hair and a cartoon character on his shirt isn’t clapping, and he’s watching Zara like a hawk. Jax. Where everyone else is chatting to each other, rubbing shoulders and laughing as they clap, Jax only has eyes for her. I can’t really read his expression, but I’m happy to see his eyes are on her face, not her body.
He seems to actually give a fuck about her. Ironic, because I’m pretty sure she gets all of her drugs from him. One day, I’ll need to do something about this dude.
But that day is not today. I just want to get my girl and get out of here.
I look back at Zara’s long and lean body, sexy as hell, the muscles in her pale thighs flexing as she spins. She has scars, just under that miniskirt.
I don’t know what they’re from. One night, I trailed my fingers over them in the dark when she was naked in my bed. She rolled over, out of my grasp. I’ve never asked her about them.
I’m not sure I want to know about that kind of pain, when she’s still clearly in so much.
She’s humming, I realize as I get closer, shouldering my way through her enraptured audience. A few people look up at me, someone whistles, but I ignore them, my eyes on her.
The dude with the cartoon shirt is beside me and he says, without taking his eyes off Zara, “Hey, Alex.” He says it loud enough for me to hear over all the people in here and the music blasting, but not loud enough to draw attention. Although being the tallest fucker in this room does that all on its own.
I can’t really read his tone, so I just say, “Jax,” with a head nod.
I glance at him before I turn back to Zara. She has her eyes closed, and the table isn’t high enough to give anyone a view of underneath her skirt. But still, I don’t like all these people staring at her. I don’t know what the hell she’s on, but I want to pick her up off the fucking table and take her back to my Jeep. Something tells me Jax won’t let me do that without causing a problem.
He’s short and stocky though. I could easily take him. Still, I’d rather not cause another scene just yet. Watching Rihanna’s sobbing family tomorrow morning at the funeral will be enough of a scene to last me a lifetime. Thinking of it makes my fists clench, dread twisting my stomach into knots.
Goddammit, why couldn’t she have died in someone else’s fucking pool?
“She’s been asking about you,” Jax says.
I cock a brow. Zara is still spinning, rolling her hips and laughing, her eyes still closed as people clap around us. “Is that right?”
He laughs a little. “Yeah. I don’t know what’s going on with you two but be careful with her.”
I nod, feeling uncomfortable. She must’ve told him we broke up. I don’t really like that, and I can’t help wondering if she told him why. I don’t want him thinking of her mouth on someone else’s dick. “I plan to be.” I think.
“Good.” Then he puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles, loudly. It pierces the air, quieting everyone for a moment. Zara comes to a stop, swaying a little because she’s probably dizzy as fuck, but her eyes lock onto Jax.
He jerks his head toward me, even though, considering I’m like a foot taller than him, he shouldn’t have actually had to point me out.
But Zara’s big blue-green eyes flick to me and then she squeals like a kid, clapping her hands and bouncing on her toes.
Without warning, she jumps into my arms and I catch her as she wraps her legs around me, squeezing me with her thighs.
I stumble back a step and everyone around us cheers as she kisses both of my cheeks.
I can feel her heart racing as she squeezes her arms around my neck, her chest pressed against mine.
“You’re here!”
I meet Jax’s eyes, asking him with mine what the fuck is going on. Za and I have spoken during the week but nothing great. She’s pissed at me about the party, I’m pissed at her for having another guy’s dick in her mouth, and I knew she was probably fucked up since she gave me this address in the first place. Which made me think I needed to get to her all the more.
But now she’s jumping into my arms? I didn’t think this would go that well.
Jax steps closer as the crowd disperses, some people dancing around the table, others drifting into the kitchen, some stacked on top of each other on the couch, making out and shit.
“She’s on something,” Jax tells me in my ear. “A new drug. Like K and coke.”
I rear my head back, my eyes narrowed. “Who gave it to her?”
He frowns. “I did. She wanted it.”
“Yessss!” Zara whisper-yells in my ear, making me flinch. “It is SO GOOD, Alex!” She kisses my cheek again.
Okay. So maybe it is good.
Her legs squeeze me tighter, and I keep her close, one hand under her ass to hold her up, the other around her back.
“It’ll probably wear off in a couple of hours, and she’ll crash,” Jax continues, like he’s a doctor or some shit, telling me the side effects. “Make sure she stays hydrated and sleeps well after it wears off, aiight?” He claps me on the back which I don’t really care for.
“I’m taking her out of here,” I inform him.
His fingers dig into my back.
I spin around to face him, hefting Zara up as she’s momentarily quiet, her head resting on my shoulder.
“Don’t fuck with her,” Jax tells me. “If you do, I’ll fuck you up.”
Considering the dude is shorter even than Zara, I want to tell him he’s fucking nuts, but he seems like he gives a shit about her so I just nod, not wanting to start anything. “All right. Thanks.”
“Tell her to text me in the morning, will you?” He nods toward her. “She’s got her phone in her bra.”
I arch a brow, suddenly regretting everyone that got to see her tits at my fucking house and how I’m a dumbass for making it happen. But some girl is tugging on Jax’s shoulder and he turns around, effectively dismissing me.
Thank God. I gotta get this guilt under control. She’s the slut.
“I’m taking us out of here, Zara,” I tell her, my mouth against her ear so she can hear me.
She wiggles in my arms, picking her head up off my shoulder and cupping my face with her hands. I stop walking toward the door as she stares at me. Her pupils are wide, obscuring most of the blue-green of her irises, but she focuses on my eyes, then presses a soft kiss to the tip of my nose.
Her lips are so soft, plump, and heart shaped.
And she smells damn good, like coffee and flowers.
“You are so beautiful,” she tells me, still holding my face.
Despite myself, despite knowing she’s all fucked up, despite the eerie way her eyes look, I can’t help my smile.
“So are you, princess,” I tell her.
She lays her head back on my shoulder and I carry her out of the door.
12
Eli
When she comes down at just after three in the morning on Saturday, she doesn’t know I’m sitting at the dining room table, just off from the kitchen with a perfect view of the fridge. A perfect view of her ass, too, the bottom half of it visible beneath the oversized white t-shirt she’s wearing. One I know doesn’t belong to her.
Obviously, she didn’t tell Alex I came over, or he would’ve asked me about it.
What a sneaky little bitch.
Her white hair is wavy and messy down her back, and when she opens the fridge, the soft light illuminates her pale, tired face. She yawns, covering her hand with her mouth as she stares into the fridge for a long moment, one hand on the door, propping it open.
I take in the shape of her firm calves, her bare feet. She has pink, chipped polish on her toes. Her pebbled nipples are barely visible beneath Alex’s shirt that’s dwarfing her. Those heart shaped lips, and that pale, slender neck.
I steal another look at the bottom curve of her ass, wondering if right now, Alex’s cu
m is dripping down her inner thigh.
I shift quietly in my seat at the table, the lights off in the dining room. No one around to see me as I adjust my dick, bite my lip.
Alex is a fucking idiot, letting her out like this, after what happened to Rihanna. In a few hours, I suppose I’ll have to see Rihanna pumped full of embalming fluid at the funeral, if I go. Maybe that’ll be a good reminder to Alex to be more careful.
Maybe I can give him a reminder sooner.
Zara keeps staring into the fridge with a vacant expression on her face.
I run my palms down my thighs as I watch her until I can’t just watch anymore. I stand to my feet, letting my chair legs scrape against the wooden floor.
She turns her head, but otherwise doesn’t move.
Even her expression doesn’t change. She stares into the dark and I don’t know if she sees me or not, but I feel a little unsettled with the way she’s looking at me. Like she can see all of my secrets. I guess, more than anyone else, she can.
Because she’s fucked up, too.
I take a step, the wooden floor cold on my bare feet.
I slide my hands into the pockets of my sweats, the only thing I’m wearing.
She still doesn’t move.
“Zara?” I whisper her name, not wanting to wake Alex up. He’ll ruin this for me, and I’m sure he already got his anyway. Now it’s my turn to finish what he didn’t let me. And if she’s full of his cum, even better.
She tilts her head, a lock of white-blonde hair hanging over one of her eyes, but she doesn’t say a word. Her expression is vacant, and as I step closer, until I’m right beside the fridge door and I can see that her pupils are blown, I realize she’s not staring at me.
She’s staring through me.
I flick my gaze to the sliding glass door beyond her. The lit pool. The calm surface of the water. I think of Rihanna’s body beneath the surface. Zara staring out at her, her hand pressed against the glass.
A faint chill makes its way down my spine and I almost want to run.
When I look back at Zara’s pale face, those high cheekbones, those empty eyes, “Zara!” I snap, wanting to shake her. The cool air from the fridge is still running out between us, and I know any second it’s going to start dinging with the alarm that signals it’s been left open.
I close it, knocking her arm out of the way.
She backs up, her movements clumsy, her steps awkward. She slumps against the island in the kitchen and I move toward her, the light from the fridge gone, leaving us only the light from the full moon outside.
Her hands grip the ledge of the island, her eyes on me, but still unseeing.
I reach for her waist, pressing my fingers gently against her, Alex’s shirt beneath my touch. I want to run my hand up her thigh. I want to feel if he’s been here. Inside of her.
I want to touch her scars.
But I don’t.
I step closer, my bare chest against her shirt, my eyes searching for some sign of life in hers.
What is she on?
Whatever it is, I could give her more.
I could take her higher.
I press my brow to hers.
“Zara.”
She doesn’t say anything.
“Baby girl,” I try again. She hasn’t said it, but I think she loves when I call her that. Right now, though, she’s just limp in my arms and her breath smells like alcohol. My heart is thudding in my chest and I want to know what she’s on and I want to know where she’s been and what she did, if she fucked Alex, and I can’t—
I can’t stop it.
My hand trails down over her hip bone, to her bare thigh, and then back up, under his shirt.
I try to stop myself. For one single second, I try.
I know Alex thinks I have a lot of self-control. He thinks, between the two of us, I’m the good one.
That’s because he doesn’t fucking know me.
Zara’s skin is soft beneath my fingers and I stare into her eyes as I touch her. She’s like a beautiful little robot, quiet and compliant against me. Unwilling or unable to stop me.
And if she’s not going to, I’m certainly not going to stop myself.
I trail two fingers up her inner thigh, loving the way her muscles quiver beneath my light touch. Even if her mind is temporarily gone, carried off by whatever she got into tonight, her body is responding to me.
Her thigh isn’t damp. I trail higher, brushing my fingers against her smooth, bare pussy. She trembles a little against me, and I feel her chest brush mine as she takes a breath.
I run my fingers up her slit, parting her lips, circling her clit with the pad of my fingers.
I hear her sharp intake of breath, and she shifts her hold on the kitchen island to my shoulders, digging her nails in.
I lock eyes with her.
She blinks.
I move lower, feel the slickness of her against my skin. I want to do more. I want to go further. I’ve watched for so long.
“Eli,” she whispers, and my chest tightens.
“Zara.” I lean back to take in her face.
She bites her lip. She’s awake. She’s conscious.
Her fingers are still on my bare shoulder, and she stands up on her tiptoes, trying to get me closer. Trying to get me inside of her.
“You want me?” I ask her in the dark.
“Yes,” she sighs, angling herself toward my fingers. “Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“I want—” She moans as I circle her clit again. “I want you,” she finally manages to say.
“Yeah?” I taunt her, loving the way she’s begging me with her body, rocking her hips forward as I touch her. Her lips part, a soft moan from her mouth making my blood heat. “You want me? Or do you want Alex?”
She gasps, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “You, Eli, you.”
I keep touching her, then slip down my sweats and my boxers, pumping my dick. I’m so fucking hard and I am dying to fuck her but she’s not really—I don’t know if she really wants me. And when I fuck her, I want her to know.
I stroke myself as I rub her, but she’s still on her tiptoes, and she lets go of one shoulder, shoves my hand down.
“You want me inside of you?” I whisper, still pumping my dick, the tip brushing up against Alex’s shirt on her body.
She nods, biting her lip, her eyes on mine.
I push two fingers into her, loving the way she parts for me, tightens around me. And with only that shirt on and nothing else between us, I can smell her. She smells so damn good. So fucking clean.
“Eli,” she moans, bucking her hips against my fingers, her hands behind her now on the counter to keep her upright. “Fuck, Eli.”
“Are you my good little whore?”
She nods, another low moan coming out of those soft, pink lips.
“Touch yourself,” I tell her, leaning close, my words against her ear. “You don’t fucking deserve it, but I want you to come at the same time I do.”
Obediently, she moves one hand from the counter to her swollen clit, rubbing herself with two fingers as I finger her, still stroking my cock. I want her to touch me. God, I want her to touch me, but I want to watch her touch herself more.
“Don’t stop,” I command her, “don’t stop until you come all over my hand, baby girl.”
She closes her eyes, and I know she’s getting close. I can feel it. I can feel her, so tight and hot against my skin. She rubs herself faster, and I see her pink clit beneath her fingers.
I’m going to come.
I’m going to come all over Alex’s shirt.
And when she gasps my name, her walls so tight and hot and wet around my fingers, I do just that. I can’t hold back my groan as I finish, making a mess on her.
“Eli,” she gasps, her eyes still closed tight, her chest rising and falling, my fingers still inside of her, still coated in her wetness.
She’s still got her fingers on her clit, too, and I rub my dick against her
shirt, pumping myself one last time, making sure it’s all out.
I keep my fingers inside of her until she opens her eyes.
And then I slowly slide them out while she watches me. I bring them to my mouth, sucking her off me.
She trails her hand up, away from her swollen pussy, to the mess I made on her shirt. She dips her fingers into it, and then she tastes me, too, not looking away from my eyes.
Just as I lean in, wanting her mouth all over me, wanting to taste me from her lips, I hear something upstairs.
A creaking.
The sound of Alex’s floorboards beneath his feet. I don’t sleep much; I know all of the sounds in this house.
Zara’s eyes flick up to the ceiling, her mouth open, her fingers on her tongue.
I wait, tense, hoping he’ll just use the bathroom and go back to sleep. But I know better. He’s going to be looking for her.
And he does.
His footsteps pause, as if he might be confused, and then they head toward his door.
I kiss Zara’s ear, her startled breath against my cheek. “It’s okay, baby girl. Get some water.” I reach between us, running my finger up her slit one last time, loving the way she shivers. Loving the way she’s still so fucking wet. “I’ll hide out until he takes you back up.” I trail my hand over her thigh, her scars, just as I hear Alex come to the top of the stairs.
“Eli,” Zara whispers, and it sounds pleading. Like she wants me to stay.
“Shh, baby. Have a good night.” I kiss her again, and then I pull away, rubbing my index finger and my thumb together, the sticky wetness making me hard all over again.
I pull up my pants, and slink back into the dining room just as Alex comes down the stairs.
“Zara?” he calls, his voice soft.
I can see her from where I’m standing, but they won’t be able to see me.
I see her drop her fingers from her mouth, tuck her hair behind her ear. She opens the fridge, and I see she’s nervous in how she moves, her foot sliding up against her opposite calf.