It’s selfish, really. To think that Kira is mine to ruin and no one else’s.
“Tell me what’s in there,” Giselle says.
“I told you. Storage.”
Moving closer, I tower over her. Giselle shrinks, ever so slightly, fluttering her eyelids at me. “Come on, Elias… We both know that’s not storage. Otherwise, you would’ve opened the door to show me, like you did with every other room in the house.”
I’m getting impatient. Release- that’s the only goddamn thing I wanted her here for. Everything else is a waste of time. Especially her poking her nose where it doesn’t belong.
I raise a hand slowly and draw an invisible circle around her nipple. It perks naughtily, poking through the silken fabric of her shirt, and I realize she’s not wearing a bra today. That’s fine. It’s less material for me to strip off. I pinch the nipple, and she sucks in a breath, her gaze darkening. I pinch harder and tears spring to her eyes.
“Baby, please,” she mumbles, breathing deeply and pushing her breast into my hand, quietly asking for more. “What’s in that room?”
“How about we find out what else you’re not wearing, since I’ve already crossed off the bra,” I reply, smiling as I find her other nipple and pinch both a little even harder, making her whimper. She cups my swelling erection, licking her lips.
“How about we find out what’s in that room, and then you can fuck me in it…”
Before I can answer, she slips past me, giggling like a schoolgirl, as she tries to open the door. It’s locked, of course. I’d be amused, if her persistence wasn’t so fucking annoying. I don’t like repeating myself, especially when it comes to a corner in my house where only one other woman has set foot. Plus, after that whole altercation with Kira, I’m just not in the fucking mood.
“Come on, Elias. What are you hiding?” she laughs.
I wonder whether I should entertain her for another minute or two before I cut her off, but the longer I let this play out, the more stubborn she’ll get. Giselle is used to having her way with everything and everyone. Maybe it’s time I teach her a lesson.
“I’m going into the bedroom. You’re free to come along, if you’d like,” I say, walking away from the black door.
She stomps her foot, pouting and threatening to kill my arousal for good. “Elias! Get back here! I want to see!”
“The only thing you’ll see today is me going down on you until you cry out my name and beg me not to stop,” I reply, stopping in the doorway to my bedroom. “It’s either that, or you can keep staring at that door, which I’m not going to open just to please you. Those are your only two options, Giselle. Choose carefully.”
I go into my room and take my shirt off. Unbuttoning my jeans, I let my cock loose. It’s definitely yearning for something tight and hot and wet. Even though there’s a woman out there in the hallway, practically dripping wet for me, my mind wanders away and straight to Kira. “Dammit,” I curse, gritting my teeth. I can’t help it.
The memory of her ragged breath… how she moved against my fingers…
I’m stroking myself while thinking about her. This isn’t even the first time, though it’s quite disrespectful towards Giselle, who’s now behind me, waiting for me to turn around.
Giselle’s silk shirt is open, but she’s still pouting. She didn’t get that door open, but I can at least give her something to distract her for long enough—she’s got the attention span of a Border Collie.
“Sit on the bed,” I tell her.
She grins, revealing her perfect white veneers. “Is that an order?”
“I can make it an order.”
“And if I disobey?”
It’s my turn to grin. “There can be some form of punishment, but I doubt you’ll like it.”
“You never know…”
“Get on the fucking bed,” I tell her, and she doesn’t linger anymore. She sits at the foot of the bed, while I continue stroking my cock. Her image warps before my very eyes, and it’s Kira I see, with her satiny skin and small, but round breasts.
I push Giselle back, and her breathing intensifies as I peel off the black trousers. She’s wearing deep red lace panties, but it’s not Giselle anymore. It’s Kira, and I doubt that deep red velvet would be her thing. I’d see her in something more on the lines of Agent Provocateur. Lacy, sure, but black and slim—a mere strip to pull to the side so I can get inside her.
“Oh, Elias…” Giselle quivers as I sneak a finger between her slick folds. The red lace annoys me, so I tear it off, mercilessly. “Elias!” She gasps, but I can’t be bothered. I can make her walk out of her buck naked, if I want.
I kneel and push her thighs upwards.
“That’s too rough, Elias,” she hisses.
“Hold your thighs back,” I tell her, and take hold of her ass cheeks, spreading her wide. With no red lace to bother me, I close my eyes for a moment, and I curse myself for replacing her with Kira. I kiss her pussy, then lick it several times, enough to get her moaning, begging for more. She doesn’t like the pain, so for a minute, I focus only on giving her the pleasure.
“Yes, Elias,” she moans.
She wants me to go deep. Digging my fingers into her flesh, I lick harder, pressing my tongue against her clitoris. I suckle on it, and her hips start to sway, back and forth, as the tension amplifies. I work her with ravenous hunger, licking and nipping and sucking. My tongue spears her, and she cries out. “Oh, Elias… Yes, right there, yes, baby!”
I wish she’d just shut up. A fire burns in the pit of my stomach, the blaze spreading downward.
I tongue-fuck her, then slip two fingers in and settle on her clit again. Giselle is losing her mind, but I think I’m farther out of sanity’s reach, because all I can see is Kira writhing before me, so close to exploding.
It’s time to shatter her. I nibble on her throbbing little nub, sucking harder and harder as she keeps calling out my name. The minute she moans and comes undone, I let my cock take over and fill her up to the brim. Savagery is unleashed, as I pound her mercilessly. She’s gushing wet, still rippling from her orgasm, as I ride the wave and grip her by the throat.
“Elias…” she manages, slapping my hand away from her throat.
“Shh…” I whisper and set my hands back where I want them.
Again, she tries to push my hands away. And as though disobeying me weren’t enough, she dares to part her lips, her body jerking forward.
“Is this what really fucking turns you on?” she spits, and I can see pure darkness behind her eyes. It’s not the good kind of darkness either. Instead, it’s the kind that’s bound to get her into more trouble than she can handle. “Were you turned on when you had Kira backed up against that wall, squeezing her throat like…” It’s an incredibly stupid move on her part. The only thing she’ll achieve is being able to correctly guess at the fact that I had a boner the size of a mountain when my hands were around Kira’s throat. Something not unlike the one I’m sporting now.
“How about we find out,” I say. My hands are around her throat again. I’m squeezing gently at first, watching as she dares me with her eyes to go harder. To prove to her that this is what I like.
“You want me to fuck you, like I’d fuck her?” I whisper the words against her ear. My hands are so tight around her throat that there isn’t a goddamn possibility of her answering me.
She bites down on her lower lip. The look in her eyes isn’t one I can decipher, and I also don’t feel like spending a second longer trying to figure it out.
“I’m not sure you’re as tight as her, though, Giselle. Not sure I’ll be able to rip you open the way I’d rip her open…” I grunt, thrusting into her, hard. “You just open so easily for me…”
“You sick fuck,” Giselle manages and I nod. That I am. Pity she will never be able to understand just how sick.
I squeeze tighter and my erection doubles in size. Once again, I allow my mind to skip the image of the woman before me and replace it with Kira. My m
ind is a blur, my body asking me to finish what I’ve started. Resentment gets tangled between us, as I move almost violently, her muscles dancing with every thrust. She’s stunned and breathless, her eyes bulging as I tighten my grip and finally release myself inside her, pounding to the point where tears stream down her cheeks, smearing her makeup in the process.
I fuck her lights out. I fuck her until I give the very last drop, exhaling sharply when the image comes back into focus.
Panting, I give her a cold smile. “Yes,” I say, in answer to the question I damn well know she’s asking. Yes, I wanted you to be Kira. Yes, she turns me on more than you ever will. Yes, yes, yes.
Giselle shakes her head at me and makes to say something, before clearing her throat and thinking better of allowing actual words to pass her lips.
“It was so good, you almost passed out,” I chuckle.
Giselle stiffens, her brow furrowing. I pushed her overboard here. I was cruel, but I can’t bring myself to regret it. I wouldn’t hurt her, but she definitely deserves a reminder of who she is versus who I am. Maybe this has cleared a few things for her.
“You piece of shit!” she manages, and I pull back, buttoning my jeans back on. The mere sight of her begins to disgust me, because I know… I know she’s not Kira. She’s not even the tiniest fraction of Kira. I’m a delusional fuckwit.
“I thought you liked the idea of punishment.”
“Not like that!” Giselle snaps. She covers her throat. The skin is almost crimson under her jawline, but it will pass. I’ve seen this so many times, all it does is give me additional erections—not this time around, though. I think Giselle has reached the end of her line here. I’m no longer excited. Just tired.
“You’ll be fine. Relax. Go take a shower,” I say.
“Fuck you, Elias!” she snarls, scrambling off the bed. I watch as she struggles to put her pants back on, having already said goodbye to her panties. “You’re a fucking perv!”
Raising an eyebrow, I throw her a smirk. “You didn’t seem to mind when I was making you cum, Giselle.”
“I’m gonna tell the whole school! They’ll all know what nasty shit you’re into!”
Perhaps my intended lesson did not come across as such. I cross my arms, smiling coldly. She straightens her back, her pants on as she buttons up her shirt, makeup streaking down her cheeks in shades of charcoal and dark blue. Her hair is a mess.
“Giselle, if you go public with this, you will end up a troglodyte, living in a cave somewhere upstate. I see Maine like a good place for you to grow old and eventually die in,” I say, unaffected by her threats. Sure, the word “freak” feels like an insult, but I’ve gotten more out this dynamic of ours than she ever will. It stings, but I’m sure it’s worse for her.
“Is that a threat?! I will destroy you, just like I destroyed Kira!” she screams. My blood runs cold, because I know exactly what she’s talking about.
“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise, Giselle. You know who I am. You know what I’m capable of. And, in case you forgot, I can buy your parents and their businesses twice over, in case you’re thinking of flexing some financial muscles at me,” I reply. “Don’t mess with me, Giselle. As quickly as I fucked you the good way, providing you with enough orgasms to last you a lifetime, I can ruin said lifetime even faster. You tripping Kira during a ballet audition doesn’t exactly scare me. I can ruin you without so much as another look in your direction.”
She’s angry. Maybe feeling a little helpless. But she knows I’m telling the truth. She might hate to admit it, but she’s able to acknowledge it, at least.
“Fuck you, Elias. You’re a piece of shit.”
“No, Giselle, you are. You’re the one who caused Kira to break her ankle just so you can dance in the spotlight, since it was the only way for you to ever play that part,” I say. “You’re the one with a glitching brain and in desperate need of some therapy, sweetie.”
Giselle freezes. Her own anger and bruised ego got the better of her, and now I’ve got enough ammo to destroy her. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman underestimates me. They all do, assuming I’m freshly over eighteen and theirs to play with as they wish.
“Tell you what, Giselle. You go on your way, go home, take a hot bath, do whatever it is you do to relax,” I continue, eager to get this over with. “Come tomorrow, you and I will meet at school, we’ll be polite and pleasant to one another, and no one will have to know what a pathetic little tart you really are. But if you so much as run your mouth off, I’ll make sure your best job opportunity is at the nearest Walmart.”
That’s it. That’s the final blow, and she knows it.
It’s enough to send her crying out of my room and out of my house, forever. I breathe a sigh of relief when I hear the tires of her car screeching outside. It’s like a massive weight was removed from my shoulders. I only started dating her because I knew it would upset Kira. Boy, do I feel stupid now…
15
Kira
I’ve finally found the courage to try my luck on the treadmill again. I’ve managed to make the pain go away before… why wouldn’t I be able to do it again?
Taking deep breaths, I start the casual walking program and get on. At first, I move as though I’ve got a massive pole up my butt, permanently chastising myself for having allowed such physical degradation. I’m so fucking stiff, it’ll be a miracle if I ever perform a decent Arabesque ever again.
Remembering my doctor’s words, I repeat them aloud. “Practice. It takes practice. It’ll be like starting over from scratch.”
Can I do it, though?
Can I really do it?
I want to. The talk I had with Janelle didn’t feel like much progress at the time, since I was more or less hearing my father speaking through her, advising me to not give up on Wharton just yet. It didn’t feel like much progress, but it turns out that it was exactly that. By the time we were done with our coffees, and as the sugar rush from that chocolate cake subsided… I realized that I wasn’t done trying with ballet.
Not yet, anyway.
I could give it another shot. Heck, I am giving it another shot, right now…
“Practice. It takes a lot of practice,” I say the words again. “It’s like starting from scratch.”
That was much easier when I was a wide-eyed little girl fawning over Misty Copeland’s routines on TV. I’m tired now. Glancing to my left, I see the Oxy bottle on a side table, and I’m filled with hate and revulsion. Dammit, I’ve got to find a way to get that shit out of my system.
As soon as the thought worms its way through my head, a sharp pain jolts up my leg, and I cry out. Falling off the treadmill, I land on my ass. Before I can even tell what’s happening, I burst into tears, no longer able to control myself. The pain only gets worse, throbbing, searing through my flesh as I look up at the Oxy bottle, filled with the pills that have both soothed and damned me this whole time.
I have to break free…
But not today. “Fuck it,” I mutter and pull myself back up, reaching for the Oxy. I pop one in my mouth and chew it like candy, its bitterness making me shiver. “Fucking fuck it.”
Maybe it’s time to admit I have a problem. How do I even go about doing that? Do I… what, check myself in at the Betty Ford Clinic? Let the whole world know that the Fowler & Malone heiress has a fucking drug problem? That’ll quickly destroy my very last chance at a Julliard slot. That’ll be it. I will have nothing. No ballet. No Oxy. Just the prospect of Wharton and one day stepping into my father’s shoes—and that sounds like a fate worse than death.
It’s my fault. Crying my heart out, I admit it. My fault. I put myself in this position, and now I don’t know how to get out of it.
I’m so broken, so empty and helpless, so focused on my self-loathing and existential misery, that I don’t even hear the door open. I only hear Margaret’s gasp before she takes me in her arms.
“Oh, honey, what happened?”
Finding her soft and meaty
shoulder, I finally let it all go. Sobbing, I hide inside her embrace as we stand for a few good minutes. Margaret has been like a second mother to me, for as long as I can remember. After Mom died, she acted as an impressive substitute, remembering every single detail of my old routine. This woman deserves a statue and a fucking fortune for all the work she put into raising me.
I know her better than I know my father… which is a sad thing to say, but it’s the truth.
She says nothing, waiting for me to calm down. She just holds me, as I remember the struggle that she went through just to get the morning pancakes right, filled with blueberries. I remember the trips she frequently made into the city just to get our favorite brand of maple syrup. I remember how many days she spent sewing and fixing my tutus. The hours invested in shopping for the right pair of ballet shoes.
Look at me… crying while hooked on Oxy, desperate to get back to dancing… making a fool of myself and basically throwing all of Margaret’s efforts down the drain. And look at her, holding me tight, refusing to let go while I seek comfort.
“I’m so sorry,” I manage, drawing deep breaths. My eyes sting, and I hope I’ve cried all my sorrows out already. It’s exhausting.
“Oh, Kira, what are you sorry for?” Margaret asks gently, as she steps back to look at me. I shrug, pointing at myself.
“Look at me. I’m a fucking mess…”
Her eyes widen, since she rarely hears me curse. I think she might melt into a literal puddle if I say “fucking” two more times. “Kira, you’re having a rough time. It’s not hard to tell. But I know you, honey. You are strong. Stronger than you think…”
I can’t help but scoff at the numbness seeping through my limbs. The Oxy is working, as always. The quickest route through the darkness, only it leads to even more obscure places. I need to look for the light but… where do I start?
Trinity High: High School Bully Romance Page 38