When my eyes flick down to his lips, before bringing them back up to his, the light begins to fade in the room just as it does in his eyes. “Ariyal. No.”
Sighing, I groan in ecstasy when his fingers tighten on my hip. The other slowly treks down my spine before tightening to the point of bruising.
His touch lights a fire inside of me, making me crave every part of him.
“Who says?”
“We’re not there yet,” he retorts in a low, gravelly voice.
I interrupt, saying, “We’ve been there. For months.”
Groaning, his hands slide painstakingly slow from my hips. “Trevor,” I gasp, arching my back, pressing my breasts toward him.
As if he’s whispering it to himself, he says, “God, do you know how much I’ve wanted you? How every time I see you, I’m with you, I can barely stop myself from taking you.”
A break in the storm clouds allows moonlight to shine through his bedroom window, bathing every sliver of his skin in its silvery glow. He looks like a god sitting under me, virile, strong … perfect.
“Then don’t stop,” I utter, panting as his thumb strokes the underside of my breasts, almost coming into contact with my taut nipples. “No one’s asking you to.”
“You have no idea. People don’t ask,” he rasps, pulling me toward him as if on autopilot.
My breath halts in my chest as he pulls me closer, his cock growing harder beneath me. First, he softly forces my chest against his. Then, he slides his hands around me, the blunt tips of his fingers pulling me closer as his hands flatten against the middle of my shoulder blades.
My pulse thrums wildly as our faces grow closer and closer, the scent of him teasing my nostrils, almost becoming unbearable. My entire world tilts on its axis as his face continues growing closer and closer, forcing me to tip my head to the side as he presses his mouth against my collarbone.
A breath hisses out of me as I feel the warm suction of his lips pressing a soft, tender kisses on my chest. He continues this action before lightly skimming his lips over my collarbone, steadily rising. Dragging his lips up my throat, I gulp harshly, shuddering in his lap as he sucks the sensitive part of my neck that rests below my ear.
“Mm, your skin tastes like heaven and hell all at the same time,” he sighs, allowing his bottom lip to slowly slide up my jaw until it rests at the base of my earlobe. “You have no idea what you’re asking of me—how hard the temptation is to resist.”
“Take me,” I whisper, my breathing growing shallow.
My wanton pleas break him, shattering his resolve. Licking his lips, his eyes drop to mine as I do the same, seconds before both arms tighten around me and his lips crash against mine. I open for him, wrapping my arms around his body to bring him closer. His tongue slips between my parted lips, skillfully dueling with mine. Groans reverberate in his chest so harshly I feel it all the way to my soul.
Slowly, I rock against him, whimpering into his mouth as I feel his hand on my back deftly undoing the buttons on my silk nightgown. With each button, I feel the dress giving away more and more until finally, the straps fall away from my shoulders, allowing my nightgown to pool around my waist in a mess of silk.
Breaking the kiss, he leans away, his eyes slowly lowering, eating me up with his gaze. My nipples tighten further under the onslaught.
“I’ve never—,” he growls, positioning himself at my entrance. “Fuck, I’m so dead, but I can’t ...”
“Trevor!” I suck in a sharp gasp as he pushes inside, his grip nearly crushing me.
“You’re what every sinner craves; every man’s last wish before he leaps into hell’s fiery lake for all eternity,” he groans, pumping in and out.
Sweat peppers our skin as the sounds of our coupling reverberate off the walls; the melody of our bodies joining over and over again as we moan with each push and pull. His hips connect with mine, growing faster and faster. His body wrings every ounce of pleasure out of me as mine does the same to him.
I don’t know what this feeling is, but if I had to describe it, I’d say it feels like two souls branding each other.
It feels like the start of forever.
But really it was the beginning of the end. I just didn’t see it until it was too late.
I don’t even have to ask what that was about, because it seems Trevor is completely brainwashed by the Kingston bastards. He fails to remember what happened that night in the warehouse when I was fourteen, a quarter of the way from being fifteen. There’s no way he’d be treating me like this if he still remembered my blood-curdling screams of torture and abuse.
What Joaquin did to me was wrong. So wrong on so many levels, and Brett doesn’t even know about it. I don’t know that for a fact, but let’s call it a hunch. For someone, like Brett, that craves his possession and dominance over me, he wouldn’t be acting the way he is if he knew his father was there first.
If he does know, though. I can’t suppress the shudder that races through my body. That’s fucking sick if he knows about what his father did to me yet dismisses it like it’s nothing. That’s not a true master. That’s a child, allowing his father to do whatever he wants to his tarnished toy.
“Get your head on straight before we go in there, woman.”
Trevor’s words make me roll my eyes out of habit. “Fuck off. I don’t give a good goddamn what those sons of bitches do.”
His guttural laugh echoes through the corridor. “You should, or have you so easily forgotten how he branded you, then fucked you like you belonged to him. What I had to do afterward because of him.”
I stiffen at his words. “Of course, I haven’t forgotten.”
“Then shut the fuck up and do what you’re told. I’d much rather see you pushing up daisy’s than in this house at all, but we don’t always get what we want.”
Did he just imply … “You want me dead?”
CHAPTER 8
A cold, numbness spreads through my system. It’s hard to comprehend that my ex, the person I love—loved … more than anything in this world, wishes I was dead. It doesn’t matter the piddly shit that went down between us, the love we had with each other was real until it was stripped from us by my father.
“You never loved me, did you?” Emotion is evident in my voice as I dangle pathetically from his shoulder.
“You’d have to like someone before you can love them,” he inserts, digging the knife he plunged into my heart a little deeper. “Do us both a favor, and don’t pretend like what we had was anything other than a good time. You were always a means to an end.”
Tears pool in the corner of my eyes as the double doors open. But this time, the tears are not so easy to dismiss or hold back as they were last night. Trevor didn’t tease me and lead me on, he completely obliterated everything I’d always thought we were.
We were never lovers.
To him, we weren’t even friends.
We were a means to an end, but … at what cost?
That’s when I piece it together. The warehouse. The branding. The fact he didn’t push harder to stop the meeting with his boss.
He was the runner, but not for the drugs that Mr. Kingston was slinging.
I was the product he was running, and he put me right into the palm of their hands.
Why is every man I know trying to obliterate me until I’m nothing more than a pile of rubble?
“Kneel,” is the first thing I hear when we enter the room. It’s the first thing any of those rich bastards has said to me since yesterday evening with Brett and his father and Dorran, and then last night with Chaz.
And, after everything I just figured out, I do something I never would have done before without a fight … I kneel. Right by Brett’s feet, like the good little submissive bitch he wants me to be. I don’t even flinch when I feel his approval as he strokes my hair. Can’t even bring myself to feel ashamed when I feel multiple sets of eyes eating me up due to my semi-nakedness.
I do nothing, because on the inside, I�
��m raging waters right in the midst of a hurricane. My emotions all over the place, never settling on just one, and the only way to keep them from blazing through the room is to keep my mouth shut and my eyes toward the floor.
But it seems Brett has a different idea.
“What do you say?” he inquires, thinking he’s pushing me. You can’t push something that has no will to push back.
I’m done. Broken. The man I thought loved me and that I loved, ended up never loving me at all. I was a necessary evil to get to where he is today. I always thought it was strange that he never took no for an answer. Even though we were small, around twelve or thirteen, at fourteen he went hardcore until I finally said yes.
Now, I know the reason why, and it’s devastating.
It’s never been him and I against the world. It’s always been him; good, ole Trevor looking after himself, seeing that he gets everything he’s worked so hard for.
What about me? When is life going to stop shitting on me long enough for me to get ahead of the game?
Shutting my eyes, I try to school my expression and keep the emotion out of my voice. “Yes, Sir Kingston.”
Only, it doesn’t seem to work. My words come out monotone, like there’s no life to me at all. Brett may be an asshole, but the shitty thing about it is, he’s never lied. He’s always been upfront about his intentions, as are the other two. They never hide behind soft spoken words and actions. Never pretend to care when they don’t.
They’re them. And, as bad as I hate to do this … I can’t not do it.
“Thank you, Sir Kingston, Sir, Mikaels, and Sir Ivy,” I choke out through a tear-logged voice.
Silence instantly suffocates the dining room. Tension, so thick it could be cut with a knife, radiates off at least three different people in here. The guys know exactly what I’m giving up right now. The others? Not so much. But it doesn’t matter if they don’t. All that matters, is the three people that seem to be the only people that know be best in this room.
This time, Brett doesn’t allow me to get by with just flimsy words. His warm hand slides underneath my chin, shortly before he tilts my face back to peer up at him. When my eyes land on him, the sight of him, with a warm halo of light surrounding him, nearly takes my breath away. He’s always so clean cut and put together.
He doesn’t lie. Doesn’t pretend you mean more. None of them do. That’s when I feel a subtle shift within me. They may have their own agenda, but none of these guys have ever, and I do mean, ever lead me on under false pretenses. From the get-go, I knew I belonged to them. Brett told me that, and since that moment, they’ve done what they wanted.
My breath catches on a gasp of air, a tiny smile tilting my lips as I gaze upon his worried face. He may be my enemy, just like the other two, but he’s the lesser of two evils in this world.
“Brat, what’s wrong?” he inquires, and his worry makes my stomach flip. I just don’t know if it’s from dread or some type of butterfly stuff.
“Nothing,” I whimper. “Just wanted to tell you how thankful I am for you three.”
If it were any other situation, I’d be comical watching his head tilt to the side. He looks like one of those puppies trying to figure something out, but there’s nothing to figure out, though.
It’s a painful pill to swallow, but … Brett, Chaz, and Dorran? Out of everyone in my life, they’re the only three people that’s never lied to me. They never tried to use me for societal gain.
I’m simply theirs, and they don’t exploit that.
It’s … refreshing. In a way, at least.
He continues to look down at me as if I’ve grown a second head. But I refuse to say anything further, because there’s nothing else to say about the subject. I’m not the type to mince words that don’t need to be minced, and I’m not going to start now.
“Aw, isn’t this sweet?” the sound of his voice has anger, fury, and deep-seated murderous intent flashing to the surface. But instead of allowing any of them to see, I quickly look back down to the floor, sort of relieved when all Brett does is go back to petting my hair.
“Father, your antics do grow tiresome,” Brett releases with a sigh, and I’m pleasantly surprised when he places a piece of bacon in front of my lips.
The smell instantly assaults me, causing my stomach to growl an angry tune. My eyes briefly fly to his, cheeks staining with a blush of embarrassment. But instead of touching it, I wait, and end up seeing his eyes focused on me all ready. His features are tight and stiff, a simpering fire burning deep within his aquamarine eyes, as his eyes pin themselves to my lips.
“Eat,” he coaxes.
Hesitantly I reach to take it. However, with one look, his eyebrow slanted inward, stops me in my tracks. When his tongue darts out to teasingly wet his lips, that’s when I know what he wants me to do.
Swallowing hard, I keep my eyes on his and lean forward to take the piece of bacon from him. My tongue skates across his finger as I pull it from the tips of his fingers and into my mouth. His eyes intensify at the action, forcing a subtle blush to tinge my cheeks and my eyes to drop from his to see the beginnings of a bulge gracing his pants.
I lean away from him and start chewing ever so slowly, the flavorful taste exploding on my tongue. But never once do I rip my eyes away from his lap. At this point, it’s more out of fascination than desire. It’s intriguing, watching him become aroused for no reason. I mean, the only thing I’m doing is kneeling like some dog and chewing on a piece of bacon.
Damn, he’s a freak. But what’s even worse … I’m an even bigger freak, and I hate myself for that fact, because him being turned on turns me on. My nipples start stiffening under my shirt. With a barely restrained huff, I settle back and push the thought of him being hard out of my mind.
I will not think about his dick. Stupid fucking Chaz. Dick is all I’m thinking about.
I will not succumb to the temptation of taking another peek. But maybe a little one won’t hurt.
I will … my eyes try to drift back in that direction, and instead of jerking to, I bite down and on my lip to the point of pain, so I stop my movement. A tiny groan filters from deep within my throat at the sharp tinge of pain assaulting my plump lower lip. My little trip down memory lane didn’t help me in this situation.
Brett can apparently read my moans now, because a moment later, his forefinger and thumb grasp my chin, turning my face in his direction. “Brat, slow down or you’ll hurt yourself.”
Goddamn him. He almost seems sincere. He’s not, because Brett doesn’t have a sincere bone in his body. Sensual and domineering? Yes. Sincere and kind? The devil is a lie if someone uses those two words to describe him.
“Yes, Sir Kingston,” I murmur, not being able to help my tongue running across the abrasion. A sting of pain has me sucking in a sharp breath, nearly breaking rank so I can move to attend to my wound. I can taste the little drop of blood that means I broke skin.
I nearly push all thoughts out of my head except the wound. That is, until my eyes land on Brett’s once more. It causes me to do a double take. His face is relaxed, but there’s another emotion lingering on his face, one with a deeper meaning, I can’t peg.
Before I can figure it out, he puts more pressure on my chin. It forces me to close the distance between us, his grip tight and unforgiving. Raising up, my heart beats a fast rhythm in my chest as our face come closer and closer together.
Even hating him as much as I do, the combined scent of his cologne, his nearness, and the fact I haven’t been able to come after being worked up since last night, I’m panting like a demented bitch in heat before he even leans forward, taking my injured lip between his lips and sucking hard.
That’s when I snap.
Hands find hair.
Teeth nip, even as tongues sooth.
Heat burns me up inside, beginning between the apex of my thighs and traveling higher. Every minute—second—I’m this close to him is another moment more I lose what little restraint I have l
eft.
A deep, guttural groan, full of ecstasy and pleasure, releases from my throat before I can stop it. My nails rake through the short strands of his hair, gripping the longer length on top. His strong arm wraps around my mid-back, pulling me into him even as he thrusts his chair away from the table. My body falls easily between his legs, feeling that large bulge between his legs. Dizziness assaults me, and the only thing I feel is Brett.
He’s everywhere. All around me. Inside me. He’s a visceral part of me I can’t kick. I need him more than I need air. Just because I hate him doesn’t mean I can’t hate fuck him. I can feel bad about myself later, but right now, I want him. Hurriedly, I release his hair and bring my hands to the seat of his pants, fingers nearly ripping his belt off him as I open it.
Then, the moment I go to unbutton him, the sound of a gravelly chuckle from the head of the table breaks through my daze.
It all starts coming back to me. We’re in the dining room, surrounded by Dorran, Chaz, Joaquin, his butler, and even Trevor, who’s skulking in the corner. I jerk away, gasping air in and out of my deprived body. Instantly, my body starts yearning for the sweet taste of rapture once more.
Nervousness tickles my belly, and the thought of eating any more of that bacon makes me feel sick. I’ve already concluded the body wants what the body wants, but that doesn’t mean my brain has jumped on the bandwagon yet. I still hate all of them, probably always will.
“I wonder who worked you up and left you to suffer,” Brett releases, causing that flair of anger to reignite itself and force it to swirl along with the nerves like two toddlers playing on a playground. His thumb roams across my jawline, something akin to reverence brightening his face.
“I’m-so-sorry,” I rush out, gasping.
I swallow hard, quickly going back to my place on the floor next to him without acknowledging his statement. Over the next bit of time, I zone out while they all converse with each other, Brett tries to feed me from his plate, but after rebuking more than three times he hasn’t tried again. I couldn’t stomach anything right now even if I wanted to. My insides are thrashing back and forth, trying to make sense of all this, wondering why I react to them this way when I don’t want to.
Dirty Little Secret: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Reighton Preparatory Academy Book 3) Page 7